Report on Kinsey,
the Gay Chef Store, and other Sexy Finds in
Bloomington, Indiana

Bloomington Indiana is a nice springtime place. Fragrant flowering trees line the streets. The weather borders on scorching. Shootings are confined to 4a.m., and people are only rarely attacked with skateboards. On the whole, not the sexiest place to be, except that it's home to the only gay-themed chef store and the offices, archives, and library of the Kinsey
Institute, where Alfred Kinsey was the first biologist to take the study of human sexuality seriously.

Finding the gay chef store was easy. Rainbows. Slogans. "Let your inner chef out!"

Finding Kinsey was difficult. I had to ask a dozen pedestrians before even one knew where to send me. The curator of the museum said this was a mixed blessing. "It makes it harder for anti-Kinsey people to find us."

"Are there really that many anti-Kinsey folks nowadays?"

"No."

She showed me around the juried art exhibit and the hallways lined with erotic art. I was amused by some of the earliest gay photographs (French, of course). I also asked about Chinese art. There was some. Then she took me to see the Head of the Library, who is from Sichuan.

There I explained to both of them that we had already communicated over email about my departed friend "Ritch" and his erotic art, which I will be donating to the institute in the near future. We hit it off.

An Ancient Erotic Adventure

The next day, I returned to the library because the Head of the Library had something special to show me. It was an old book of Chinese erotica called Su'e Pian. It follows the erotic adventures of a young woman and her lover, nephew of the empress. The sexual teachings are Taoist in nature, and were probably meant to be as erotic as they were educational. It was published in 161o, and, as far as Kinsey staff can tell, is the only copy of the book still in existence.

Opening the book at random, we stumbled across "Chapter 22: People, Goats, and a Cart Pursue Pleasure." There were Su'e and her lover embracing in a cart pulled by two goats, bumping over a bamboo path. "A natural vibrator," the librarian informed me.

In erotic adventures of my own, I found the modern-day Taoist sex manual "The Multi-Orgasmic Man" to be quite eye-opening. But those details are not the sort of thing I should share with you, my gentle readers. We wouldn't want to get too hot and bothered.

Who is Mr. Qiao?
And why does he have a blog on joshuawickerham.com?
Your Narrator Can Use Chopsticks

After much ado, I have finally started posting to my Chinese language blog "I can Use Chopsticks."

Not only is this an attempt to get my Chinese language skills up to an acceptable level for grad school, have random native Chinese speakers correct my mistakes, and gain fame in the Chinese blog jungle, but the first post will also be my chance to connect my disperate identities--and set the record straight.

To most people who know me in China, I'm not Joshua Wickerham. To Chinese ears, that sounds too much like "David Beckham." To all but my best friends, I'm known as Mr. Qiao.

Qiao is a real Chinese surname. Add shu and hua and you get "Qiao Shuhua," which sounds something like Joshua. It also sounds like a real Chinese name, which doubly makes Chinese speakers smile. First, because I'm not Han, and secondly, because the name means "comfortable in China."

There's only one problem. As of this post, the one reference to my Chinese identity on the internet, an article on Xinhua about Fudan University's first undergraduate homosexual studies course, identifies me as "Tai Shuhua."

The reason? The Chinese reporter who interviewed me forgot to ask me my name. She had to get it from my then-boyfriend instead, who usually just called me"Josh" and told her I was surnamed Tai.

Tai means many things, my favorite translation being "sun." But qiao is better. With another character, it can mean "disguise."

So what was this "Mi-xi-gender" （Michigander or Mi-xi-genian to some) with the double-masked identity telling reporters at the Fudan Homosexual Studies course?

He was telling them about the media circus around a similar course at his alma mater, the University of Michigan, that "How to be Gay: Male Homosexuality and Initiation," drew similar media attention, but was less a milestone in American society than the Fudan class was in China. Too bad that Mr. Qiao Shuhua--foreigner narrator for the Chinese masses--never officially attended either class.

If you're inclined, you can read Mr. Qiao Shuhua's blog, "Wo Hui Yong Kuaizi," (I Can Use Chopsticks) here.

Rambling On
in California and then
Los Angeles to Chicago

So, I'm not going back to Caracas. Combination of things, like wanting to see my friends and family, having limited financial resources, and taking the free ticket from South America to Southern California as a sign that I should get back to the MItten.

Southern California has been fun. I stumbled across 50,000 people marching for immigrant rights in downtown San Diego on my way to get a burrito. Mmmm...burrito. Didn't have my camera. I ate some of the best pizza in the world at Abbot's Pizza in Venice. I stayed with old Daily buddy Jane. Jane helped resurrect the Random Student Interview. I went to a lecture on the history of Chinese nationalism at UCLA with Zheng Shiqu from Beijing Normal University. Funny, about 500 yards from the building, while I was looking for the hall, professor Zheng's assistant asked me for directions and we got lost together. Nice chance to practice my Chinese. The Getty Center was well worth it too. And free. Oil money isn't all bad, if it's being spent by J. Paul Getty.

I hope the Midwest isn't too cold. I deposited all of my warm clothes along the cabbage trail to South America.

Cars, Cars
Everywhere Cars
in Southern California

I've resigned myself to seriously contemplating the necessity of buying a car for graduate school at University of California San Diego. As much as I don't even want to consider it, the lack of quick, cheap public transit in southern California makes getting around on bus almost out of the question. And biking on highways is also out.

It is the shame of this nation that good public transport is limited to a few cities. California at the very least should have high-speed rails cutting commute times and pollution in and between cities. Instead, we have Amtrak. I still say, better service in China and Bangladesh.

Now to see a bit more of San Diego before heading back to LA. At least the view on the surfliner is nice, even if the track is so bad that we're limited to speeds of 30 MPH.

Everything From Hampster Races to Chavez
Venezuela in Fotos
a flickr set

I just finished uploading the photos I took from Caracas, Merida, and Choroni Venezuela.

You can access the Flickr photo set here.

To California!
On My University's Dime
Caracas, Venezuela (we hardly knew ye)

Well, friends, this was unexpected. Your narrator is going to America tomorrow. A few days in LA, a weekend in San Diego, and a return ticket to Caracas. I haven't decided whether or not I'll use that. Michigan calls...so hold on!

And, if you're a late filer like your narrator, get your taxes done. You can't just close your eyes and make them go away. I tried.