Visa Saga Part Two - Vacation is Not Over Yet

Anytime we enter the country we must call our local police officer and let him know we are back. If you enter on anew visa you must go to his office and have him fill out a new blue residence card. This contact with the police must be made within 24 hours of your return, or you could face fines.

I called our friendly neighborhood policeman while we were in the taxi from the airport to our home. I started out asking about his vacation and was surprised to learn he was still off work. He would be returning to the office in two days. I told him I had a new visa and would therefore need a new blue card, and he told me all that could wait until he got back. So my 30 days had started to tick away while I was sitting at home waiting for his vacation to end.

Two days later I showed up at his office bright and early awaiting his arrival. The officer I was waiting for is a really nice guy and easy to chat with, he was able to fill in my residence card, but I noticed he marked my card ending March 21 (since February has only 28 days - I figured I would have until March 23rd to get it all done). But he is the policeman and what he says goes.

30 days - 2 waiting for vacation to be over - 2 days because February is a short month - 2 days for a weekend = 24 days left and counting.

Visa Saga Part One - Rules of the Game

If you regularly keep up with this blog you will know that back in February I was able to get a work visa while I was out of the country. My friends and I purposely extended our vacation an extra week so that we could arrive back in country after a national holiday was over and civic workers would be back at their desks. The reason behind this was simple; stapled to my new visa in my passport was an important notice that read "The holder of this visa is kindly reminded to go through the procedures for obtaining the residence permit for aliens in local public security bureau within 30 days from the date of entry, to avoid illegal stay."

The procedures for obtaining a residence permit are as follows:

a. Register with the local police in charge of the area where you live (he must fill in your residence cars as well as a letter of verification)

b. Obtain an Alien Employment Permit from the labour department.

c. Register with the local police in charge of the area where your work office is located.

d. Take the above documents to the District Police Station and get their stamp of approval.

e. Drop your passport and above documentations off at the City Police Headquarters in order to get your residence permit.

All of these steps must be done in 30 days or less -- GAME ON!

Texting Is Only for Good Boys and Girls (Jan 28th)

I mentioned that on January 16th we were once again able to send text messages. This fun discovery led my friends and I to have deep text messaging conversations like the following.

Hungry?

Very. Where?

Dumplings?

Good. Bus stop 5 minutes?

C U

We had to keep it short and to the point because even after the texting ban was lifted we were only allowed to send a total of twenty messages a day (believe it or not those can disappear fast). But I guess not everyone was keeping their messaging privileges as pure as we were.

On January 28th (just 12 days later) everyone was sent the following text from the government (rough translation): Some citizens have been caught misusing text messaging and sending inappropriate messages. They have been jailed.

So now I don't know how much hope there really is that soon our area will be technologically back open. I mean if text messaging is only for good girls and boys, internet much be reserved for the perfect.

As Red As a.........

Language learning is an ongoing game. I have mentioned before some of the common mistakes I make in pronouncing Uyghur. Things like; "verb" and "elephant" are only one vowel apart, as are "think" and "house", and "love" and "slaughter". So our teacher likes to laugh when we tell her we "conjugate elephants", have a guest "staying in our thoughts", and that God "slaughters us".

Now a days the challenge is to get deeper into the language. I want to learn how to use idioms and express myself using metaphors and similes that resonate with the culture. To learn how to describe things in a natural Uyghur way.

Today we found out that when Uyghur people get angry, they turn "as red as a lung". When they blush, they turn "as red as a gobbler". It took us two days to remember the English equivalents; sometimes our English atrophies from lack of use. But now I know we beet red when a person is angry. I tried this expression on my teacher, but realized that it fell flat since she had never seen a beet much less eaten one. The comparison was empty to her.

Moreover, Uyghur people don't "get angry"; their "anger comes upon them". They don't "get hungry", they "have an open stomach". Clothing isn't "immodest", it is "open". "Pregnant women" are "two-layered" or "heavy-footed". People who are "generous" are "wide-stomached".

"Putting requirements on a woman" means to propose to her. When your face "turns to the color of a wall", it means you've become pale. To "look to someone's road" means to wait for them.

The Uyghur people give their strongest promise to attend an event by saying "can't not come". (double negatives always threw me for a loop in English). They have the same word for "bitter", "spicy", and "angry". There are two words for jealous--one with a good connotation (like "I'm so jealous of your new car") and one with a bad connotation (I'm jealous of my brother"). They have ten or twenty expression for happiness depending on situation, mood, and accompanying actions.

The heart also plays a key role in the unified language. To have "half a heart" means that you're sad. To "lift someone's heart" means to comfort them. To "put someone's heart on the ground" means to disappoint them.

Picture Perfect

A favorite activity among Uyghur people is going to have pictures taken. This can be an elaborate

affair involving traditional clothing, make-up, hair (often fake), and several hours in a studio. Since we were on school brake some other foreign friends and I decided to take a day to get this done. Here are the results.

Hope

I mentioned a few weeks ago that the government had given me a birthday present by promising to open up communication again in our province. Today we had our first hint that they intend to keep that promise. Today, (January l6th) I got a Text message from my friend.

I know that doesn't sound like a big deal to most of you, but if you are a faithful reader of my blog you will remember that I used to be addicted to texting friends as a short simple means of communication. Since July of last year the government has turned off our ability to send and receive text messages. The only ones we have gotten in the last seven months were text from the government either reminding us to be good citizens, or ones telling us how they have punished people who weren't.

But today's simple text message is like a ray of hope in our world. Today text messaging.... tomorrow international phone calls or Internet?

Coughing, Whistling, Stomping and the Such

The lights in our stairwells are sound sensitive, meaning they come on whenever you make a loud noise. It is the same idea as the 'Clapper" that was popular in the Eighties, It is not just the stairwell in our building, but everyone around the entire country. As you sit in your apartment you can hear different people ascending and descending the stairs using their own unique ways to get the lights to come on. Some people stomp (I find this hard on the knees), others can make a high pitch whistling sound, I personally find coughing/clearing my throat the most effective noise to make to turn the lights on.

The other night as my friend and I were walking home late at night we noticed that many of the street lamps on our block were out. Without even realizing it I started coughing loudly hoping more light would come on. Apparently I an not the only one that has this reaction to darkness. You could hear other pedestrians clapping, whistling, stomping and the such, in hopes of lighting their way home.

Snow a Blessing and a Curse

Over the last two days the city has once again been blanketed in a thick covering of snow. Every snow fall really is a mixture of good and bad, both a curse and a blessing.

The days leading up to a snowfall are often bitterly cold and gloomy. The air is heavy with pollution that sticks to the inside of your lungs, and is so thick you can't see across the street.

The only thing that can solve this problem is falling snow to clear the air. And when it does it is a welcome break......

But then the roads are slick and icy, the bus lanes are slippery, and getting around town seems so much more dangerous.

Not Setting the Price

Around town there are real taxis and fake ones. Real ones are red and come with a meter that clocks the fare as you go. Black ones (actually they can be any colour, we just call them black, like the black market) are just any guy driving his own car who is willing to take pity on you and give you a lift where ever you are going.

I use to stay away from the black taxis because I was convinced the driver was going to try to rip me off and charge me way more than a normal fare should be. When I first started being willing to go in fake taxis I would make sure I had negotiated the price before even getting in the car (and trust me they always seemed to call a higher price the minute they noticed my white skin), but the more I travelled with local friends the more I realized none of them did this. They just get in the car, tell the driver the destination, and when they are getting out give him the amount that everyone knows a ride that fare should cost.

I wanted to try it. So I started taking more blacks taxis and just stated my destination as I climbed in. I find that if I just sit there they still end up wanting more money, but if I speak to them in Uyghur and try being all cute and adorable (my friends words not mine) I often get offered the ride for free, or can at least get away with paying less than a regular cab. In fact even when I don't have correct change they will break up my big bill and give me back more money than I expected. This new strategy is not only saving me a lot of money, it is giving me a lot of language practice and keeping me updated on current events (taxi drivers in any culture hear a lot of news and have a lot of gossip to share). The only thing about taking fake cabs is that my marriage proposal rate increases. Taxi drivers are good they can go from "where are you from?" to "will you marry me?" in a ten minute ride or less.

Buying Bruises

My friends and I had a hard week last week and in order to encourage us to complete tasks we were dreading we had set up a reward system. If we got certain tasks finished we were allowed to go for a massage (in hopes of removing some of the tension).

My friend went for the whole body massage, but I have tried that before and the massage therapist spends more time trying to get my legs to move in directions that they can't reach. So I decided to just get a simple back and shoulder massage. When I asked the price they told me something reasonable and then said it was an extra two dollars for something else. They lady was speaking really fast and I didn't really catch what the extra two dollars was for, but I agreed anyway and lay down to relax.

The first thirty minutes were great and I was almost asleep, when it was time for the two dollar extra bonus part of the message. The next thing I felt was this huge suction cup feeling on my back in not one or two places but a total of nineteen places. They take glass jars, light a candle inside them to suck up the oxygen and create a vacuum or sorts before sticking them to your back. The vacuum sucks up the skin and creates big black and blue bruises.

When I realized what they were doing to me, I tried to ask what the purpose of this particular treatment was. The answer was somewhat confusing; it was something about keeping me from getting sick by getting rid of the cold in my body. I didn't have a cold and I didn't feel like I was getting sick, and I really didn't see how bruising me was going to help get over these none existent symptoms.

It was a good cultural experience, but it was a little painful sleeping on my back filled with nineteen bruises all about four centimeters in diameter for the next few days.

Broken Door

The apartment I share with my friend is on the third floor. I know I have told you before about the lack of elevators in the city. Any building that has less than eight floors is not required by law to have an elevator. That means we spend a lot of time climbing stairs. Living on the third floor really isn't too bad, but this past week the door to our stairwell broke. People coming by to visit can no longer ring the bell downstairs to let us know that they have arrived, and we can no longer unlock the door by simply pushing a button. Instead our friends call us on our cell phone and we have to run down three flights of stairs to open the front door. We walk them back up to our apartment, and after they have visited for a couple of hours we should really follow good Uyghur custom and walk them out all the way to the road, (which of course means going back down three flights of stairs again. Up and down, up and down, it really is quit the work out.

Invitation Letter

So I am still trying to get a work visa. I know I have been talking about this for months now (actually I think it has been more than a year already). I have spent the last five months going from one office to the next, collecting red stamps and handing in copies of my passport. I finally got my Invitation Letter that I have to take out of the country to an embassy to apply for the much sought after work visa. This paper said in big bold letters that I had to return to Canada, and I had to have done it by January l0 (only ten days from the time it was in my hand). The story of my life, having to make last minute trips out of the country.

There was a lack of consensus on this date and its meaning. Some other foreigners who have gone before in this process claimed that the date was only an estimated time frame and that I had up to thirty days after that to get it in. Others said I had to not only have left the country before then, but I had to also have come back before that date.

All this confusion and stress was really starting to wear me down, when I finally used someone else's good connection with a government office, to re-issue me a new Invitation Letter with a date that better suited my own personal travel plans. Now that is what I call a real gift from the government.

Governments Gift

My friends aren't the only ones who decided to give me a gift for my birthday. The local government published an article on the one web page our province has had access to for the last seven months saying that they are going to "slowly start to re-open" international communication (ie: Internet and phone calls). I have been asking my friends when they think this slow opening will have us back up and running full throttle. Most people guess it will be at least another six months before we are back to where we were before this summer's situation. While six months still seems like forever without being able to regularly check e-mail, at least we have an update, at least the government has given us some news, some hope, the mention of some sort of plan.

Timmies Run

If you are a Canadian, or if you have ever been to Canada, I don't need to explain how much Timmie Runs are a part of the everyday ebb and flow of life. When I was in college I use to stop in everyday on my way to work or school and grab a large double-double and a sour cream glazed doughnut. There were many days that I would need another pick-me-up half way through the afternoon. I have so many good memories hanging out at Timmies with my friends, and now I can add one more big one to that list.

With the Internet still being off I don't know when you are reading this....but December 28th was my 30th birthday. Sadly the day didn't start the greatest for me (I was still really exhausted from basket delivery the night before. Yes the Christmas season was just so busy we put off playing Santa until two days after Christmas. We figured people here always celebrate their holidays for days after the event and they would never know the difference). This old body could barely make it out to the living room. My roommate unexpectedly had to head into work for the morning, and I couldn't find my favorite Tim Horton's coffee mug anywhere.

As I was laying on the couch trying to recover from the long trip from my bedroom one of my friends called. She was also not feeling well, I guess she had eaten something the day before that had sent her stomach into convolutions (it is funny this girl and I often are affected by the same foods). She was calling to see if I could come over and take care of her. Normally the three minute trip to her house would not be a big deal, but on days when I am moving slow, and the ground is slippery it seems like miles to me. I made apologies that I just wasn't up to it and hoped she felt better soon.

She called me back a few seconds later to tell me that she had been lying and that she was on the road walking towards my house to pick me up and take me back home with her. I have to admit to being a little mad, I mean if she had a birthday surprise that was worth lying to me for, why didn't she just bring it with her instead of making me go back to her place.

We made the slow cold trek to her house and when the door flew open I was greeted with the most amazing sight. There were all of my closest friends wearing Tim Horton name tags. They had moved the kitchen table to act like a front counter. There was my favorite "missing" coffee mug filled with freshly brewed Timmies coffee (they had had the grinds sent from Canada) and homemade sour cream glazed doughnuts. They had traced the logo off my mug and had made signs for the walls. We spent the morning just sitting around Tim Hortons on the other side of the world, drinking coffee and hanging out. It was the sweetest birthday treat ever.

10 Baskets in 1 Night

This year my friends and I decided to celebrate Christmas like we did last year, trying to outdo Santa himself by delivering baskets of goodies to friends and neighbours. Last year we were set on the people we wanted to deliver to. We went to homes and if people weren't there we tracked them down at restaurants or offices to deliver our gifts.

This year we were a little more flexible. While we had developed pictures of us with our friends and framed them, we were willing to grab out the picture and change who the basket went to at the last minute. We gave them to our vegetable lady, the lady who owns the photo copy shop, the young girl who works at the convenience store near our house, the wait staff at our favorite restaurants and more. Only one of the homes we went to was a repeat from last year's basket delivery extravaganza. At each stop we sang one stanza of a Christmas carol in both our native tongue and theirs. We also included a letter that we had written in both the local languages that told the reason for the season. It was a great night, but once again we were totally exhausted.

2012

I don't know how big of a deal this movie has gotten to be back in the west, but out here it is the have-to-see-flick of the year. Everyone on the street is buzzing with talk of this movie. I have now watched it in both English and Uyghur, and while yes the cinematography and special effects are pretty amazing, like when all of California falls into the ocean, the truth is I still don't really know what all the fuss is about.

But apparently this movie has a lot of people worried about the end times. There are men standing on street corners selling nothing but copies of this one movie, reminding people to be prepared for the end. The movie shows rich people being able to buy their salvation. My friends here see themselves as having no hope to be saved if this is the case.

Country Cousin

My Uyghur mom and her family recently took in a distant relative to help them raise their grandchildren. They have two small boys that it is mainly their responsibility to raise. Their son is living in Europe and their daughter-in-law who, lives with them, is a police officer and is so busy with work that she is hardly ever home. That means that my mom, who is almost 65 spends her days running after a five year old who is tough and has never heard the word "no".

I kept telling them it was too much for them to handle on their own. In the end their daughter-in-law asked a second cousin living in the country to move in with them and help with the children. She is a 12 year old girl, who like I mentioned before is not registered. Twelve is a weird age for girls some of them look like they are going on 30, and others, like this young girl, look like they're still 8. She has learned how to read and write along the way, but doesn't really speak any of the national language. She can barely lift the baby but she is very dedicated to helping with the laundry, dishes, cooking, and such.

My Uyghur parents have offered that if she is willing to stay and help around the house they will pay for her to go to a training school after their grandchildren have started school. It sounds like such a sad life for a young girl, but living with my Uyghur mom and dad and having an opportunity to learn a trade is a lot more than she could have hoped for otherwise. Her mom is getting remarried and her soon-to-be-step-father wants nothing to do with her. Sad stories like these are a daily part of my life.

Give or Take a Couple of Million

If you read my last blog post you might have noticed that I took an estimated guess at how many people live in this city. It might not be an exact guess considering I allowed for a difference of up to 2 million people, but population is a hard thing to nail down around here. For instance, there is a law on the number of children a family can have. Uyghur families living in the city can have two, those in the country can have three. But some people don't abide by the law and end up having more children. In order to keep these extra children they either have to a pay a big fine to the government, or else keep the child a secret by not registering them. A non registered child officially does not exist, which means they can't go to school and they are not included in a population count. These children will end up being street sweepers, house cleaners and such. They will never be able to move up in society because they officially don't exist. As sad as it sounds it is actually a very common thing, so common that some people actually figure there are likely two million unregistered, non legal children.

Weird Sights and Smells

So the other day I stepped out of my apartment to see a cow standing by the garbage pile. Keep in mind, we are living in a city of 3-5 million people, but the sight of the cow in the middle of my apartment complex was somehow not that surprising of a sight. I naturally assumed that many of my neighbours would be eating beef for dinner. As sure as sure could be a little over an hour later when I came home there was no cow, but the ground outside my front door was all bloody and red.

No Saying No

I was babysitting some of my friends children recently and was amazed at how well they listened. They understood that when I said no, I meant no. They willingly accepted my authority and listened so well.

I am not use to this attitude. Uyghur's believe that you should not discipline a child until they are thirteen and old enough to handle it. I have been over visiting some of my Uyghur grandmothers and while they were in the kitchen getting tea their grand kid has punched, bitten, and kicked me. When the lady came back and saw their precious child playing roughly with me, they didn't tell them "no" or get the child in trouble. Instead they just joked with him "you better stop this or big sister might not come back to visit you" "if you keep hurting your big sister her father might have to come and beat you up and he is a big, mean, strong man" (she issues the threat without knowing what a gentle and kind man my father really is). Disciple was issued only in terms of empty threats, it doesn't take a kid long to understand there is nothing behind them. It is just supposed out here that young children will be naughty and there is nothing to be done about it but wait.

Visiting some of these friends once landed me in bed for almost a week with a sore back. The kid had head rammed me in the stomach, driving me back into the wall. I was actually scared to go back to that ladies home and actually found out when her grandson was in preschool so that I could do my visiting when he was not around.