By MEI JIA CHINA DAILY New Yorker Greg Lepkoff, 24, found his future and the chance to realize his dream a er a two month driving trip across China. “I know what I would be and what life I’d lead if I stayed in the US,” Lepko says. “But I want a di erent life, and the trip answered how.” Born in a Jewish-American family, Lep- ko feels connected to China through food, and the Jewish and Chinese people’s shared emphasis on education and family. He became a student of Asian Studies at Binghamton University in 2005. There he spent one year nishing a 30-page research paper on China’s agriculture a er joining the World Trade Organization. However, his extensive reading only made him confused about the country he was study- ing. “From the books I learnt of a country with a great history and the capability of preserving the historical heritage,” he says, “but from the media around me I saw only bad images.” To see the reality with his own eyes, Lepko arrived at Beijing two months before the 2008 Olympics. In October that year, while staying with a Chinese family to re ne his language skills, Lepko was thrilled to learn in the news that farmers are ocially allowed to transfer their land-use rights. “That probably meant large scale farms would be on a rise,” he says. Hans Galliker, a 30-year-old Swiss IT engineer, met Lepko in Beijing, where he was studying business at Beijing Union Uni- versity. “Our qualities complement each other,” he says. A former farming apprentice, Galliker shares Lepko ’s passion for sustainable agri- culture. In November 2008, they began to think about a car trip. “ As questions accumulated, we felt the need to explore and find out more about rural China in person,” Lepko says. With a budget of $10,000, they rented a car, hired two Chinese girls as translator and driver, and prepared questionnaires and small gi s. “We didn’t spend even one minute sight- seeing,” Lepkoff recalls. “We were driving and talking with farmers, o cials and com- panies.” As the journey progressed, they aban- doned their questionnaires, as they realized a machinery business was not such a good idea, as replacing the c ountry’s huge farming popu- lation with agricultural machinery would only create problems, Lepko says. Instead they concentrated on gaining a rst-hand understanding of the condition of the farmlands, the soil, farmers’ income and education, the crops, food culture and the new developments. Lepko says that they made many friends along the way and that in a way they traveled by following people. Both believe they found the answers to thei r questions about establishing an agriculture business in China on the trip. Lepkoff believes the nation’s agricultural policies encourage the growth of an enormous amount of organic farmland. “China’ s policies are really helping the people,” he says. “The Chinese countryside offers huge potential for development,” Galliker adds. ey both agree that the real potential is in sustainable and environmentally-friendly farming, and the pair have begun trading organic fertilizers. Now they are planning to expand the business. Lepko says that he plans to stay in China for at least ve more years. “I know China will be a part of me for the rest of my life,” he says. 20 lifepulse CHINA DAILY THURSDAY, MAY 13, 20 10 Cantonese tongue twisters turn into plot-twisters HOTPOT By GUS TATE FOR CHINA DAILY Standing on the peak of Taishan, hold- ing a camera for a newlywed couple from Shenzhen, I heard the woman suddenly yell to me in Cantonese. “Excuse me?” I shouted over the wind. We had been chatting for several minutes already, but only in Mandarin. “So, you don’t understand Cantonese, then?” e woman looked unimpressed as she took the camera and put it back in her purse. “I thought you said you lived in Guangzhou!” I was unprepared for this response. Chi- nese people are usually abbergasted that I can speak even a word of Mandarin. I managed a meager excuse about it being too di cult, but the couple had already turned to leave. Cantonese is infa- mous among foreigners for its inscru- tability. Judging from cadence alone, an overheard conversation in Cantonese could easily be construed as a heated and potentially violent argument. Cantonese slang is also notoriously prolific and idiomatic. And the tones — are there six, eight, or nine? How am I supposed to learn a language whose native speakers can’t even agree on the number of tones? Still, the woman’s remark was an unpleasant reminder of how little I had learned during my first year in Guang- zhou, so I enlisted my roommate as a study buddy. We found a tutor, bought a textbook, and our journey began. As it turns out, Cantonese is hard. Barrels of fun, but mentally exhausting. Despite the noble e orts of our teacher, we’ve only succeeded in internalizing a few fun-to-say but way-too-speci c sentences and structures. My roommate, for instance, is an expert at assuming an air of exasperation while asking: “How can you say such a thing here?!” (Lei hai dou gong maai di gam ge je ?!) I, meanwhile, have mastered the frivo- lous outburst of a restaurant patron when asked if he would mind sharing a table: “Sitting with others? No way!” ( Tung jan dei maa toi aa ? Ngo dei m dzai gaa !) Problem is, the opportunities to use these phrases in the presence of native Cantonese speakers are relatively rare. It wasn’t until my dad came to visit that I nally had a perfect opportunity to ex my skills. After meeting my father at the Hong Kong airport, we decided to grab a quick dim sum before taking our train to Guang- zhou. e restaurant was full, so we took a number, nervously checking our watches as we waited. e hostess called our num- ber. I leapt toward the desk. She gestured toward a large table already occupied by several diners. “Li dou dak m dak aa?” (“Is this table alright?”) I was torn. Of course we didn’t mind sharing a table. Besides, we were in a rush and couldn’t a ord to be picky. But every ber of my consciousness wanted to blurt out the phrase I had already honed to perfection. I couldn’t help myself, so I sang out, practically exploding with false indignation: “Tu ng jan dei maa toi aa?!” (“Sitting with other people?!”) e hostess blinked. “Super!” I chirped merrily, sitting down in a huff, motioning frantically for my father to join me before the hostess had time to consider what a weird, bipolar customer I was. Like I said, barrels of fun. In all seriousness, I don’t regret spending hours lling my head with Cantonese. At the very least, it has taken this dialect that I hear on the streets and transformed it from mere static obstructing my Chinese education into music enhancing it. I highly recommend studying the local dialect, at least casually, especially for those look- ing to expose themselves to a whole new dimension of embarrassment. B efore May 12, 2008, Fang Dong- sheng’s dream was to nd a job in an international trading company and build a cozy home in a well- developed coastal city. But all that changed aer the Wenchuan earthquake in Sichuan province. “My attitude toward life changed forever aer the devastating earthquake,” says the 20-year-old junior at West China Normal University in Dujiangyan, a city close to Wenchuan, the epicenter of the earthquake in Sichuan province. “I’ve come to see the importance of famil- ial love and found it vital to open my heart and reach out to help others, ” he says. A native of Wenchuan, the single chi ld of a working class family le his home city for the rst time in 2007 when he enrolled in university. Life went smoothly until that fateful day, May 12, when he le his room on the sec- ondoor of a three-storied dormitory for an aernoon class. Fang soon realized that he was experiencing an earthquake, but did not know what to do. His roommates shouted and dragged him to the door. “As if waking up from a nightmare, I stum- bled along with fellow students to the stairs,” Fang recalled. “I guess I was scared and found it hard to move my leg s and to breathe.” He and hundreds of schoolmates gath- ered on the sports grounds. ere he tried to call his parents who worked at a post oce in Wenchuan and his grandparents in Dujiangyan. When he couldn ’t reach any of them, the young man says he was “sud- denly engulfed by panic and despair” , and he burst into tears. at night, he learned that the epicenter was Wenchuan, and rescuers were trying to reach the devastated area. “My mind went totally blank. Panic, despair, hope, they all disappeared for a moment. I felt like I was on the brink of breakdown and did not pay attention to what was going on around me,” he recalls. It was three days a er the major quake that Fang nally heard the tired voice of his mother Liu Hui who had been busy with relief work in Wenchuan. Luckily, all his family members were safe and sound. Instead of going back to Wenchuan, Fang decided to do something to help others, and he joined volunteers building tents in Dujiangyan, distributing food and nursing the wounded. “I had no time to think about my family. We were ghting against the disaster like we were in a battle eld, ” he recalls. His parents nally made it to Dujangyan, traveling amid the frequent aftershocks along damaged mountain roads. “e reunion struck me dee ply. I realized how much my parents loved me,” says Fang, adding that he became a true grown-up dur- ing this time. Two years later, Fang can speak candidly about his experiences during and aer the earthquake, although some of his fellow students still nd it very di cult. Fang is preparing for post-graduate studies, but he is determined to return and work for his hometown as he believes it is the responsibility of the younger genera- tion to help re-build the local economy and infrastructure. With this in mind Fang seized the chance to study at t he State University of New York (SUNY) in August 2008, where he was one of 150 Chinese students who attended a program at SUNY which aimed to “build a team of young leaders” who could serve the quake-a ected areas aer they graduated. e students, primarily sophomores and juniors, were chosen from over 2,000 appli- cants aer a careful review of academic per- formance and English language pro ciency. ey studied for nine months as full-time students at SUNY’s state-operated and com- munity college campuses. “I’m so grateful for what everybody did for me,” Fang says. A major of international business, Fang enjoyed the courses in liberal arts the most. He read English poetry and Shakespeare. “at was my rst time to read an original English novel, I enjoyed it so much! ” Fang says. He noticed that most American students knew little about China. Whereas most Chi- nese students he knew had already “accu- mulated so much knowledge about America before they even set foot on foreign soil” . Recalling the happy days with his Ameri- can professors, fellow students and some American families who held welcome par- ties for Chinese students from the quake-hit region, Fang says: “ is brief but eye-open- ing exposure to society and people in a developed country changed my mindset a lot. I have learned to look at the bright side of life and become more condent. Now I nd it less dicult to speak my thoughts although I used to be an i ntrovert.” Nonetheless, Fang admits he is still trau- matized by the experience. One night last month a minor earthquake shook Dujiangyan. “I thought I had fully recovered from the painful experience,” Fang says. “But I could not help but cry loudly at midnight and run wildly while my roommates were sound asleep.” Fang says he knows that it will get better. e university has psychological coun- selors stationed on campus. Fang and other students oen seek advice from them. “I think it is natural that wounds deep at heart take a longer time to heal... I am always expecting a better tomorrow to come,” Fang says. Finding new meanings The Sichuan earthquake was a life changing experience for student Fang Dongsheng. Zhu Linyong reports PHOTO PROVIDED TO CHINA DAILY Swiss IT engineer Hans Galliker — who has joined American Greg Lepko to explore China’s countryside — enquiring after the price of piglets in a rural market. W estern duo cultivate interest in organic far ms PROVIDED TO CHINA DAILY Fang Dongsheng signs his name with other Chinese students who attended a special program in New York to help rebuild their devastated hometown in Sichuan. Fang Dongsheng (left) with teachers and students at the State University of New York.