Audio Blog: Biking to School

When my parents visited a few weeks ago, they brought me a new toy - a Zoom H2, which is a dual-microphone high-quality audio recorder. This will serve 2 purposes: 1) to record key language learning moments when we're out and about, for later listening and review; 2) to do some audio recording of the sounds of our lives out here, so that you can better experience what we experience.

So, for our first "audio blog" entry, here is a recording of our Tuesday morning bike ride to school (edited down 8 minutes, 45 seconds). Come along and join us for the ride!

A Visit to the Bike Guy

It's a good idea every two weeks or so to pump up the tires in your bicycle. To do that, most people around here go visit "the bike guy" (or at least, that's what we call him). The bike guy isn't any specific guy. There's a bike guy on a street corner at least every half mile or so. You see them there with a big patio umbrella, a small cart with supplies (tires, locks, pedals, breaks), and a mat laid out on the ground filled with random nuts and bolts and parts. And usually, one or two air pumps.

Adding air to your tires is a self-serve service - meaning, you say, "I want to add air!" and he looks you and then points to the pump on the ground. Then you add air yourself and then pay him 2 mao (that's about 3 cents). Sometimes there's a basket on the ground nearby, and people just toss their money in there to pay him.

Tonight, on the way to volleyball, I biked down a curb ramp, and for some reason... the chain came off the teeth on my gears. My bike was off the chain (yo.). So, I had to walk my bike over to the nearest bike guy to pay him a visit. And I would be late to volleyball.

The bike guy was busy. He saw me, and I showed him the problem (from first look, he could tell that my bike was off the chain). But he was busy working on another guy's tire. I went to his mat of tools, and asked if I could borrow the screwdriver. "Sure. Take it," he said. So I went to work.

Grabbed a different screwdriver. Grabbed a wrench. Got my hands all dirty. By this time, the bike guy, seeing that I seemed to be doing ok without his help, took on another customer and left me alone. And about 10 minutes later... I fixed my chain and got my bike going again.

I return the tools and I say, "How much do I owe you for using your tools?"

In Chinese, when somebody says 看你吧 (kàn nǐ ba), which literally means "look at you", they are saying, "It's really up to you..." The bike guy says 你看-----, and I missed the rest of the sentence. He said something like, "Well, you look at..." and who knows what he could have said afterward (maybe "... how busy I am over here. I don't have time to take your money." or "... how you stole the wrench that I was using. This should be at least 10 kuai."). I have no idea what he said. But I interpreted it as 看你把 - "it's up to you."

So, it's up to me. And here's the big cultural dilemma. How much do I pay him? He didn't help to fix my bike. But I did use his tools. And, for a good several minutes more than I normally use his pump. Give him too little (or nothing at all), and would he get offended and yell at me, chasing me down the street? Give him too much, and would he think I'm a crazy throw-money-around-like-it's-nothing foreigner?

I settled on 5 mao. I figured... if I normally use the self-service pump for 2 mao, now I'm using 2 1/2 self-service tools (2 screwdrivers and a wrench)... so... 5 mao. I threw it in the basket, said thanks, and biked away. He didn't chase me down. But I don't know if he said anything about me to the other customers there.

How much would you have paid?

On a separate note... there were some new guys at volleyball tonight. One of the guys, who was by far one of the better guys on the court, asked me for my phone number afterwards... he said that they have a dorm team (or something like that) and he might call me sometime to play as their setter. In my limited language ability... I think that's what he said. Or maybe he said that the national olympic team is holding tryouts next week and he wanted to invite me to come tryout. Most likely, it's the first one.

The Diagonal Cross

Today is a post about biking the streets out here. I wanted to introduce you to an advanced technique which I had seen done before but had not yet thought through. So, I spent some time thinking about how this would work and then began to test out my technique. So far, I'm still alive.

This advanced technique is what I call the diagonal cross. That's right... crossing the street diagonally

The typical intersection light timing cycle works like this:
1. 40 seconds for straight traffic (say, north-south).
2. 10 seconds for left-turn traffic (northwest and southeast).
3. Then, 40 seconds for cross straight traffic (east-west).
4. 10 seconds for left-turn traffic (northeast and soutwest).

Simple enough. Consistent. And every stoplight has a timer that lets you know how many seconds remaining in that phase of the cycle. So, no sudden yellows and strandedness.

So, imagine I am on the southeast corner of an intersection, and I want to cross diagonally to the northwest corner. Here I am, waiting through the 40-second north-south straight traffic phase.




Here is how the diagonal cross works. As long as you're ready, you use the 10 second left-turn phase that follows:



... and you bike between the arrows. Sure you're trusting that the cars coming from your left will really turn left and not run you over. And sure, you're trusting that the cars coming towards you from your right really will turn left and avoid you. But, 10 seconds is a lot of time to make it across diagonally on a bike.

I think the key to this advanced trick is to know when the diagonal cross is available to you. If you have to stop and think to yourself, "Wait, could I have just crossed that way... right through the diagonal?" and you're examining the lights and the cars... then you've probably lost 5 seconds in your window, and now you'll never make it.

I will have to practice this one this week.

Biking, Pace, and Goodbyes

I recently had a conversation with a visiting friend who was observing the bikers in our city. He noticed that everyone bikes at a leisurely pace... that even the people with the battery-powered electric bikes go at a leisurely pace (usually even slower than if they pedaled). He was right on. In fact, there was only one person I noticed who often bikes down the street at a fast pace, pedaling furiously and passing up all of the others. It was me.

This observations spoke volumes to me about the contrast between the pace of life to which I'm accustomed and the pace of life to which I'm adjusting. Here's my standard train of thought: the faster I pedal, the faster I get there; the faster I get there, the faster I'll be done doing whatever I'm doing there; the faster I'm done, the faster I can move on to do something else; the faster I can move on, the more I can do; the more I can do, the more I am worth. But that last one... the main driver for my drivenness... is a lie.

So, I'm trying to learn to pedal slower. Not just on my bike... but in life. To spend time with and enjoy the people around me. To be less concerned with how productive I am and more concerned with how loving I am. To place a higher value on being encouraging than on being efficient.

"Pedal faster!" was my friend's final words to me (jokingly) just before he left town last week.

Another life lesson I learned today... if there is the option to have your bike watched by an attendant, take that option. Sure, it costs a little bit of money (the equivalent of about 10 cents), and you may need to park underground and then walk back up a ramp. But... it's better than getting your bike stolen. Which... is what happened to me today.

I think all of us who live here are somewhat emotionally prepared to have our bikes stolen maybe once or twice a year (at least). So, I paid my dues today. Tomorrow, I will buy another (inexpensive) bike and with a (better quality) lock.

Goodbye, Yoshi. You were good to me.

Steps to be a Good Local Bike Rider

I have realized that there are baby steps (obstacles) to becoming a good bike rider. After biking for a month and a half, I feel like I have progressed in my steps of bike riding. Yet, I am only on step 6 (riding with an umbrella); I have much to practice.

Steps to be a good local bike rider:
1. Get on the bike and ride it.
2. Learn to cross the street. This is quite hard because walkers and bikers do not get the right-of-way.
3. Learn to maneuver around people and small gates.
4. Riding with something in your basket. This is complicated because it makes your bike unbalanced.
5. Ride and talk on the phone. I can do this, but I try not to do it.
6. Ride while holding an umbrella. Here's a picture of me with the umbrella.



I have used the umbrella now both for rain and to be a sun shade. It is harder than it looks because that means you only have one hand to maneuver, and you also have to hold the umbrella in a way so the wind doesn't blow it aside. They also have hands-free umbrella holders you can attach on your bike. I will have to invest in one.
7. Riding with a person sitting on the back of the bike. I can't do this because nobody wants to be the first to try sitting on the back of my bike. Alvin refuses, although I have sat on the back of his bike a couple times.
8. Doing the local mount and dismount. This includes starting with one foot on one pedal, and then mounting the bike and starting the bike in one swift movement.

Steps 9 and 10 are rare and things I would never do, but we have seen really good bike riders do:
9. Riding a bike while holding and leading an empty bike alongside him/her.
10. Having a whole family on the bike. This includes one parent riding, one parent sitting on the back holding a baby, while the toddler is standing on the bike behind the second parent. We have seen this a couple times, but I promise that I will never let my family do this.