Many years ago, my husband and I had a chance to hear columnist Gwynne Dyer speak in our town. It was during the "holiday from history," after the end of the Cold War and before the rise of militant Islamism. Dyer pointed out that the world was basically at peace (as it was at that time). He pointed to what he saw as the greatest threat looming on the horizon -- if China and India industrialized to Western levels of prosperity, he warned, the planet would not be able to sustain all the pollution they would generate. 

At the time, I was indignant on behalf of the Indians and the Chinese, as he seemed to be implying that they simply could not be allowed to aspire to the same things that we had. But I probably misunderstood him. In this more recent column, he acknowledges that if China and India were to put environmental curbs ahead of economic growth, many of their citizens would remain impoverished. He concludes that the developed world should pay the freight for keeping the planet clean. 

I arrived in China at Beijing airport and and took the train the following day to Zibo City. The entire region is heavily polluted, folks. I arrived on a day when the pollution was especially bad; the sky was grey from horizon to horizon with no hint of blue. Fortunately, not every day is that bad -- today for example, it was clear enough that you could see blue sky and even fluffy white clouds, which are usually invisible in the hovering murk.  The grime settles thickly on the windows and the window-screens. So that's just the way it is. China burns a lot of coal and there are a lot of factories in and around the region. 

As Gwynne Dyer pointed out, the West got a head start on ruining the environment. The old premier of my Canadian province, WAC Bennett, used to say that the stench from the pulp mill was the smell of money. And London was once notorious for its "pea soup" fogs. Once upon a time, all men lived and worked by wood smoke and candle flame. 

In the short term, if you are thinking of coming to China to teach, research the pollution levels in the areas you're interested in and ask yourself what level of psychological and physical discomfort you can put up with. I'm not crazy about the pollution, of course, but it came as no surprise. What has been a pleasant surprise is the number of trees in the city and on the campus. There are many city parks, all beautifully tended. Soon large planters all over the city will be filled with summer bedding plants. The cherry blossoms are gone, but climbing roses are in bloom and calendulas are budding out everywhere. Today I also saw some gorgeous peonies, the nation's national flower. All the greenery helps a lot. 

In contrast to the little smiley face cartoon characters who represent authority figures in Zibo, the architecture of public buildings is designed to impress and awe. The vocational institute where I work has three campuses and each campus features lavish use of public space, huge plazas, granite columns that wouldn't be out of place in Karnak, long flights of stairs and imposing (in one case cantilevered) buildings. At these temples of knowledge, the lone human being takes on ant-like proportions.
A former teacher told me that walking across the plaza is not fun in winter with a stiff breeze in your face. To be fair, there are also lots of trees and plantings on the campuses and even an ornamental lake at the South Campus.

It's not hard to spot government buildings in Zibo City. They are huge and often more architecturally interesting than the equivalent structure back home. Take the government buildings in the city where I used to live in Canada. Kelowna's school district headquarters, its City Hall, the college, and the auto insurance office, are one or two-storey buildings that have a sort of modular, semi-permanent look to them.  In China, an orgy of building means lots of new government buildings.

Living in a foreign country means that every day you are confronted with a succession of little surprises, as you realize that procedures, routines, even hand gestures that you took for granted, are different in your new home. 

In Canada, when our government posts a safety notice or warning to the public, it's a sober, matter-of-fact pronouncement.

For example, below is a bilingual notice about radio frequency radiation.

Outside the hotel, another large sign offers family planning advice, while down the street, Smiley internet policeman warns underage patrons to stay out. (Or so I am told -- I am entirely reliant on my students and new friends to explain things to me.) 

It's easy for a foreigner to get around in Zibo, even one like me who hasn't begun to learn much (any) Chinese apart from "hello" and "thank you."

There is a taxi stand at every bus stop, and the bus service is inexpensive and much better than in my home town in Canada.  With a bus pass, a bus ride costs the equivalent of 30 cents Canadian. The bus drivers, I've noticed, are the only people who seem distinctly unimpressed by the sight of a foreigner. I've discovered that the bus that runs along my street has a great route for getting downtown and to various interesting parts of the city. Easy-peasy. 

This shot shows the three road boulevard structure I described in an earlier post -- the wide multi-lane road to the left, (mostly blocked from view by the bus stop shelter), and to the right, a single asphalt lane for bicycles and scooters, and beyond that, a brick lane for parking and pedestrians, all separated by plenty of trees and other greenery. I will try to get more pictures of the amazing variety of scooters, electric bikes, carts, three-wheeled cars and so forth. This picture is deceptively calm but it was actually taken during morning rush hour.

Zibo residents (Ziboans? Zibo-ites?) are early risers. By the time I head out the door at 7:40, the morning commute is in full swing. During my morning walk to the bus stop, I pass a small strip mall which includes several restaurants, a pharmacy and a car wash place. I pass the car wash place just as the manager starts assembling all the employees (young men in coveralls, young ladies in short skirts and very high heels,) in the parking lot for their morning pep rally or song or chant but unfortunately if I stayed to listen, I might miss my bus. Then I turn up the alley to an open market square where there is a cluster of street vendors selling vegetables or food to the commuters. The street vendors here have realized they don't need to sing or chant loudly for hours on end to advertise their wares as street vendors in all countries have done for centuries. They just use a megaphone and a looped recording. 

I'd love to serve up National Geographic-style pictures of wizened Chinese farmers selling produce from their carts, but until I can say, "Can I take your picture and post it on the internet?" in passable Mandarin, I won't have many close-ups of people to share. 

After the open market area, the other pedestrians and I continue to dodge scooters, bikes and cars while walking past a rather lavish-looking primary school. Some of the children walk to school with their grandmothers, other kids arrive in Range Rovers and Mercedes-Benz, others on the back of bicycles and electric scooters.  Friendly guards greet the children as they arrive and happy music is played over loudspeakers.  Then more scooter and bike-dodging and I'm at the bus stop. You don't want to be day-dreaming or wearing headphones or texting while crossing the street around here.

I don't take a city bus to get to work. The institute lays on a bus for the teachers. I get on at the last stop before the drive to the campus, which takes about 15 minutes. The bus swings through the campus gates and the guards snap smartly to attention and salute the teachers as we arrive for the day.