I recently became so interested in this idea that I conducted a quick search for relevant studies online. Turns out, in 2009 Dr. Ryan Howell, a San Francisco State assistant professor, published a study that confirmed my hypothesis. In an NPR interview, Dr. Howell commented on his study, explaining that “participants who were in the experiential condition said that they were more likely to consider their money well-spent at that time but also that currently that their purchase was still making them happier, and it made others happier. And that was because they had an increased sense of vitality, an increased sense of vigor. And they also had a sense of being connected with their social world.” This sense of reinvigoration is exactly what I felt in Guatemala, and although months have passed, I continue to feel the remnants of it to this day. Dr. Howell also pointed out an interesting difference between experiential and material purchases: “people’s experiences – their vacations and their times out with their friends - aren’t susceptible to social comparisons.” You might be happy with your brand-new IPhone 3G until a few months later your co-workers buys the updated 3GS version, but a friend’s vacation in Europe is less likely to devalue your trip to Latin America in your own eyes.

Plenty of studies in the fields of psychology and economics have shown that, after a certain threshold of satisfying basic needs, additional income or wealth does not make people happier. What I’d like to see is a study of human happiness that takes into consideration not only income or wealth level but also spending tendencies. In other words, would two people who spend most of their income on experiences be equally happy at different income levels? And conversely, income and wealth held constant, are people who accummulate experiences happier than those who collect material possessions?

A similar study could be conducted on a macro level. Plenty of studies have shown that people in poorer countries are not necessarily less happy than their wealthy-nation peers. However, could this be partly due to a tendency on the part of the latter to spend their wealth on disposable material possessions, which in turn drives the economy? This kind of study would have implications not only on the argument about whether GDP is a good metric of happiness, but also on debate regarding national economic policy.

If anyone knows of already existing studies that answer the questions I’ve posed, or wants to conduct this type of study, please let me know.

Неправильно. Преподаватель оказалась женщиной, а имя, как мне объяснила китайская коллега, означает „учись у мужчин“. Китайцы, огорченные рождением девочки, частенько так называют своих дочерей, как бы советуя им вырасти сильными, как мужчины. Существуют и более шовенистские имена; мое „любимое“ в переводе звучит, как „предшественница мужчины“, то есть дочь, за которой обязательно последует сын. Представляете, как бы Вы отнеслись к своим родителям, если бы они назвали так Вас?

我越考虑中国的教育制度，越跟中国大学生讨论他们上学的经验，就越想到我美国朋友参加美军的故事。他高中毕业之后想找新鲜的生活经历，又想提高自己的纪律水平，因此决定先不要上大学，反而选择入伍。他跟我分享他当兵时期的经历，他说当兵之后军队会先把你杀死，然后又按照士兵的模型把你重建。他的意思是，军队培训首先通过导致身体上和心理上痛苦的手段（比如，从早到晚运动、逼着做没意义的工作、大家穿同样的衣服、理同样的发型、不让休息、不叫名字、不断地大声发出命令等）打破新兵的个性，让他失去自信、自尊和自我意识。到新兵不知道他是人还是机器的时候，军队开始教她怎么做好的士兵，让他开始上课、开始负责任、开始恢复自信和自尊。军队把你毁灭了，军队又要把你重建起来，但是新的你将完全符合军队的要求。这样一群年轻的男孩儿才能成为一队标准的士兵。

听许多中国人的回忆，中国教育制度在某些方面跟我朋友参加军队的经历很像。小学生入学时都有自己的性格、自己的看法。但是，到初中毕业时已经几乎都统一了。中国课堂的中心是老师而不是学生，老师讲话、学生听话。考试考的不是学生能不能思考问题、想出新鲜的意见，而是能不能背下来课本里面的话。难怪中国人经常混淆记忆力和才智这两个概念，把记忆力比较好的人说成是聪明。这样的教育方法破坏了孩子的独特性和创造力，还损坏了他们的自我意识，而原来被自我意识所占据的空间就很容易被群体和国家意识形态所充满。因为中国的中小学课本是统一的，全国的孩子都经受同样的教育，遇到同样的概念。上学中的考试和学生终生主要的考试，就是高考，考的也是这一系列政府选择的题目。并且，学生都要按照政府提供的模式来回答。毕业之后，中国的学生自然地有很多共同点，提同样的意见、引用同样的作品、具有同样的价值观。

首先擦掉孩子的个性，使他变成白页，然后在白页上盖个标准的章，上边写着“中华人民共和国公民”。这种以标准为主的教育制度也把中国的年轻人标准化了，并造成了“一个国家，一个声音”的现象。像中国解放军的士兵一样，中国大多数公民也列队齐步走了。

The young woman approached the Tibetan student with a sincere question, “When the Chinese Communist Party is so good and gives so much assistance to the minorities in China, including Tibet, while the Dalai Lama lives a wealthy life in India while causing nothing but trouble for the Tibetan people, why would you still reject the Party and follow the Dalai Lama?”

The Tibetan student jumped up in anger and answered, “You don’t understand anything about the situation of the Tibetan people, so you have no right to make that statement!”, sending the curious girl back to her desk.

The young narrator of this story then sighed deeply and explained that the Tibetans feel a strong emotional attachment to the Dalai Lama, which makes it difficult for them to see the situation in a reasonable way.

***

In the eyes of the Han Chinese and the many minorities who feel deeply indebted to the Communist Party for its continuous efforts to drag them out of poverty through the means of economic and social benefits, the stubborn insubordination of the Tibetans makes very little sense. After all, why would you bite the hand that feeds you?

In modern Chinese culture, economic well-being is a top priority, which is not surprising given China’s long history of poverty followed by the recent steady climb towards greater material wealth. Another top concern is political stability, which serves as a necessary backdrop for economic growth. The Chinese Communist Party works hard to address these concerns, as much for its own benefit as for the good of the Chinese people. Given the status quo, the Dalai Lama and his team (or government-in-exile, whatever your perspective may be), is an obstacle to accomplishing these important goals.

To my count, four Chinese students attended, and only one had anything to say. Given the gravity and topicality of the issue, you might ask yourself: why so few? I asked myself and the Chinese students the same question. Here are the responses I received* and my personal reactions to each of those responses:

1. There is no “Tibet problem”, so there’s nothing to discuss.

I have noticed that the very individuals who insist that there is no “Tibet problem” or that there is nothing to discuss get into heated discussions on the issue as soon as it is brought up. They also seem to be much more willing to listen and consider alternative viewpoints from Chinese people (especially authority figures like professors) than foreigners. Also, students who refuse to participate in group discussions on the topic need almost no encouragement to discuss it with foreign classmates in private conversations or in small groups over lunch.

2. “Tibet problem” is an internal issue, so it is inappropriate to discuss it with foreigners.

As members of the academic world studying international relations, it is inevitable that we explore issues that are perceived by either side to be “internal” problems. When Chinese students study the history of Native Americans in the United States, the American Civil War, slavery and the Human Rights Movement, the treatment of Japanese-Americans during WWII, and the attacks on individual privacy and human rights within the United States in the wake of 9-11, they are free to discuss these events and to pass judgment as individuals. The Western students at the Center are also happy to discuss these issues with their Chinese classmates, because such dialog will be useful for both sides, helping us both to understand the issues at hand and widen our perspectives. Then why is it inappropriate for the Western students to try to understand China’s internal issues better through similar bilateral dialog? Would that discussion not be useful for both sides as well?

3. All Americans support free Tibet, so there’s nothing to discuss because we will never agree on anything.

It is not true that all Americans support free Tibet. Is it even less true that all Western Center students support free Tibet. Only open dialog can reveal how much agreement and disagreement actually does exist between Chinese and Western students at the Center. Further, the forum’s purpose was not to produce agreement, but to communicate and come to an understanding of both sides.

4. There is little reliable information available to either side, and none of us are experts on Tibet, so we cannot engage in a meaningful discussion

We all know that complete information is a rare luxury, and thus incomplete information, imperfect as it is, is often the best we can get. Policy-makers and business people normally make important decisions based on incomplete information. In fact, the ability to deal with ambiguity is a skill many employers emphasize when looking for professional-level personnel.

It is true that none of us are experts on Tibet. Some of us know more, some less. But the benefits of a discussion between non-experts are two-fold:

1. sharing the information we do have makes all of us better informed;

2. expressing and discussing our opinions on the matter refine our understanding of the various existing points of view.

Ideally, we will all continue to seek out information on the topic, but if we wait until we have complete information to discuss anything, we will never discuss it, because no matter how expert we are, our information will never be complete.

Democracy is in fact based on a multitude of people with varying levels of limited information making collective decisions. An argument against under-informed discourse is in effect an argument against democracy. That is not necessarily wrong, but simply something to consider.

5. Chinese students are tired of defending China’s point of view and being attacked by Westerners.

I understand this feeling, having been repeatedly “attacked” (verbally and ideologically) as an American while living in Europe and Russia. However, as an up-and-coming power, China will continue to come under such attacks. In fact, the more powerful a country is, the more attacks it has to endure from the rest of the world. If they want China’s national power to continue rising, Chinese people must learn to live with the (sometimes uncomfortable) consequences. Furthermore, the Center is one of the safest places to encounter such attacks. The Western students here are much more informed and often sympathetic to China than the average Westerner, and most of them try their best to conform their style of argumentation to China’s more conciliatory manner so as to avoid offending Chinese classmates and uphold a productive dialog.

6. Chinese students already know everything there is to know about the American point of view, so they don’t see the value of attending the forum.

There are undoubtedly many misconceptions among Americans about Tibet. However, in the weeks following the forum, I have learned how many misconceptions, faulty assumptions and generalizations exist among the Chinese students about the “Western” point of view on the Tibet issue, and about the points of view of their Western classmates. There are multiple points of view on both the American and Chinese sides.

(Frustrated aside: At the Center, I am often confronted with the Chinese students’ belief that they already know everything about American culture and opinions. First, this is ridiculous because even Americans can’t make this claim. Second, this makes me wonder why Chinese students decided to attend a Center where their education would focus on learning about the United States. And third, it is both arrogant and ignorant to presume to know everything about the United States without ever having lived there while implying that the Western students, many of whom have lived in China for years, will never understand this country.)

7. All Westerners want to do is interfere in China’s internal issues, and this is what the forum is all about.

Realistically speaking, the current Western students at the Center have few ways of effectually interfering in China’s internal issues. We simply don’t have the power to change anything in China. The purpose of the forum was not to bring about change, but to gain a better understanding of the variety of points of view that exist on both the American and the Chinese side. Although it may have been politically sensitive, in its essense the forum was an EDUCATIONAL, not a political event.

8. The American and Chinese points of view on this topic are widely available on the Internet, so there is no need to organize or attend this kind of forum if your only goal is to understand the other side’s point of view.

The lack of reliability of information gathered on the Internet is one of the reasons in attending the Center for many Western students. If we could learn everything we wanted to know about the Chinese point of view from the Internet and the media, we would not have paid so much money to come to the Center. Supposedly, the Chinese students are also here to learn about America from the source. The insights we gain from private conversations and group discussions are invaluable and (in my opinion) one of the most important aspects of our education here. Besides, reading is informative, but only dialog can provide one with the dual opportunity to respond and be responded to, to question and be questioned.

9. We believe that there is only one way to approach the Tibet issue, and we’re not willing to accept any other solutions.

As recent events have clearly shown, the current approach is not working very well. Maybe it’s time to discuss alternatives or at least adjustments to the current strategy.

10. We don’t want to voice our true opinions on politically sensitive topics in front of our Chinese classmates for fear of criticism or even social isolation.

I wonder how many Chinese students feel that way but are afraid to say so, and I am grateful to those who were brave enough to reveal this concern to me, even if they did so in private.

Basically, the Chinese students boycotted the forum. To me, this action was a refusal to expose oneself to ideas contrary to one’s own (and especially those coming from foreigners) on a topic that is overwhelmingly perceived as an “internal issue.” The motivations of individual students in choosing to boycott the forum might have been somewhat different, but the message was the same: we (the Chinese) are right, and you (the foreigners) are wrong not only in your ideas but also in your insistence on meddling in other people’s business.

* This is a collection of responses of a number of individuals and is not meant as a quotation or direct representation of the reaction of any one person.

It is time to come clean – I still have no news to give. I accepted a job offer in Shanghai and rejected one in Hong Kong, but I have yet to sign a contract or fix a start date. I worry that my employer will back out at the last moment, I fret about getting a visa, I question my own decisions. Have you ever played with a toy that looks like a tube filled with liquid, and the harder you try to hold on to it, the faster it slips out of your hands? If you have, imagine that that tube is your life – a future that you have worked hard to create for yourself – and understand what kind of mental strength is needed to make light of the situation and maintain enough self-control to hold on to the last bits of sanity you may still possess.

All that I can do is keep waiting.

En el Centro, más de la mitad de estudiantes son chinos, y el resto se llaman “internacionales” – los norteamericanos componen la mayoría, y además tenemos un aleman, una belga, un mexicano, una canadiense, dos coreanos y dos japoneses. Los Chinos toman lecciones en inglés y los internacionales les toman en chino. Creo que es mucho más difícil por los internacionales, porque la lectura en ingles no puede comparar en el grado de dificultad con la lectura en chino. Pues por eso los profesores norteamericanos que les dan lecciones a los estudiantes chinos están más rigurosos que los profesores chinos cuando les dan lecciones a los estudiantes internacionales. El resulto es que la cualidad de educación es menos alta que los estudios de postgrado en Estados Unidos.

Este semestre estoy tomando tres lecciones – la teoria de juegos, inversiones financieras y systemas de religión en China. Todas las lecciones son interesantes, pero los profesores de la teoria de juegos y inversiones financieras hablan demasiado rapidamente y tienen dejillos estraños. Porque los temas de ambos clases son difíciles y yo no conozco el vocabulario de economía en chino, siempre me siento como si me ahogara (???). En contrario, el profe de los systemas de religión habla muy despacio, y cada lección discutimos temas como la esencia del humano o la diferencia entre los humanos y las bestias.

Tengo muchos deberes de casa, pero hago menos y menos cada mes. La realidad es que he estado preocupada con buscar trabajo. He observado que suelo vivir en el futuro. En vez de disfrutar la vida en China, estoy pensando constantemente en el futuro. Eso no es saludable, pero no sé como vivir en otra manera. Los deciciones que tomo hoy voy a influir toda mi vida, así no quiero cometer un gran error.

昨天晚上我七点半开始跳沙沙舞，一直跳到十一点。脚痛，身体酸，但是心理开心得不得了。唯一搞不清楚的问题是我为什么十一点就离开了。。。

干什么呢？对了，同学前天过生日了，万一还有剩下来的蛋糕。在网上找她，问她在干什么，昨天晚上玩得好不好？不想提起蛋糕，希望她自己先讲。她走了，没戏了。

真好！两个朋友敲门说今天有两个同学过生日，问我要不要去饭馆吃饭。 这是哪儿来的问题？希望他们选的饭馆有好吃的甜点。

我最近不跳舞就吃饭，不吃饭就跳舞。你们说，生活还有什么其它的乐趣呢？

What is the perfect career, anyway? They say there’s no such thing as a perfect man, there’s only a man that’s perfect for a particular woman. Is there a job that’s perfect for me? Or is there rather a myriad of possibilities, with each one requiring compromise and realignment (or plain abandonment) of your personal goals and desires? I would estimate that the average married person spends no more than 40 waking hours a week with a spouse, while most jobs these days require a far greater commitment. Isn’t it then even more important to find a good match in a job than in a spouse? And yet there’s no equivalent to casual dating in the professional world – no possibility of doing one job today and trying out another tomorrow. Love life has been liberalized, but work life is falling behind.

What’s most important in a job? Is it the quality of the daily routine, the potential to make a contribution to mankind, the compensation package, or the number of hours stolen from your life? I suppose one has to find a combination of these factors that suits one’s needs and wants, but I’m having trouble defining my own.

I have always been an advocate of personal choice and freedom, but faced with career and marital decisions, I longingly envision the simplicity of prearrangement. Communist-style automatic job placement upon graduation and arranged marriages that still flourish in some parts of the world are looking more and more appealing day by day. Choice causes stress, and I do wonder whether resigning to accept decisions imposed on oneself by others is a greater sacrifice than a life of freedom-induced anxiety.

I got to Yangzhou on the bus on February 6, which was the day of the New Year’s Eve (or 除夕). Xingxing and her dad picked me up and took me to their apartment, a pretty nice place in one of Yangzhou’s suburbs. That night, Xingxing’s mother’s relatives joined us for dinner at a banquet room at a local hotel, and one of her mother’s brothers treated everyone. (Normally, New Year’s Eve and Day are spent with the husband’s family, but this rule was amended due to family circumstances.) At the beginning, there were many questions about who I was, what languages I spoke, what I was doing in Nanjing and so on, but they were addressed to Xingxing rather than myself. In general, everyone spoke the Yangzhou dialect of Mandarin the entire time, so I understood very little of what was said.

During dinner, we were all seated at one of those revolving round tables, and to my surprised there didn’t seem to be any seating arrangement except that all the men seemed to sit on one side of the table and all the women on the other. The men mostly drank 白酒, a Chinese clear liquor. According to my Western friends who have been (not so) fortunate to try it, it has quite an unpleasant flavor. The women mostly drank red wine. Surprisingly, there wasn’t very much smoking, as the men tended to wait until the end of the meal to light up a cigarette.

An interesting custom during the meal is that everyone goes around the table toasting to everyone else (an action which is called 敬酒), but one must toast to the oldest person first and end with the youngest. Everyone ate whatever they wanted, but, I suppose as a foreign guest, I was constantly invited to try various dishes.

After the meal, we returned to Xingxing’s home and watched New Year’s programming on TV while browsing the Internet. At midnight, Xingxing’s father launched some fireworks, which are incredibly loud and look like an explosion. Interestingly, the family didn’t even look at the beautiful fireworks lights – they simply launched the fireworks from the balcony for tradition’s sake. Xingxing’s mother also gave me two little red envelopes (红包). One contained 枣子 (Chinese dates) and 蛋糕 (literally cake but tasting far from), while the other had some money in it. The tradition is to put both envelopes under your pillow that night, and then eat the 枣子 and 蛋糕 the next morning before saying anything. The money you get to keep.

The next day (初一) Xingxing’s father treated all the same people to lunch at a banquet room of another hotel, and then we played cards and mahjong at Xingxing’s house. The day after that (初二), we had lunch with Xingxing’s father’s family.

There were several things I observed during my stay in Yangzhou that seem interesting from a socioeconomic perspective. First, and I confirmed this with Xingxing, men generally talk more than women at family gatherings, and couples who make more money talk more than couples who make less. I suppose it has to do with status in the extended family, as couples who make more money often decide family matters and sponsor other family members.

Second, even relatively well-off Chinese families in the south of China don’t use heating very much in the winter. They walk around the house in winter coats and warm slippers and sleep with heating pads under their sheets instead of turning on the heat. I’m still not quite sure what to attribute this to besides habitual behavior that has yet to be altered by economic development.

Third, for several weeks surrounding Chinese New Year’s, fireworks are launched almost constantly every morning and evening, and sometimes at odd hours of the night. In fact, fireworks are constantly going off right outside my window as I’m writing. As the noise makes it difficult to sleep, I have been quite frustrated by this custom. To me, it represents a lack of concern for one’s neighbors, but for the Chinese, I suppose it’s simply a tradition. Another consequence of the fireworks is trash. As fireworks are often launched off of balconies, there are torn paper wrappers all over the streets and even roofs. Even when launching fireworks from the ground, it seems uncommon for those launching to clean up after themselves.

I have to say, celebrating New Year’s in China made me miss New Year’s in Russia. It seems there the celebration was much more soulful and interesting. Although in reality it is probably so only in one’s childhood, when celebrations are still exciting and presents desirable. As adults, we become too spoiled and jaded to appreciate the magic of Christmas or New Year’s, be it Western or Chinese.