Fall 2014 Update

Autumn is the best season for starting new things.  I’ve always loved this season best – it has the best food, most comfortable clothes, the prettiest variety of colors.  New school supplies were always a highlight growing up.  Even now I have a high appreciation for a fresh notebook with supple paper and a pen that glides smoothly.  For the first time in a long time, I find myself drawn back to writing, seduced by the autumn atmosphere in my home country for the first time in three years.

I must admit that my return to the United States hasn’t gone completely according to plan.  Though I have full-time work, I’m not in a classroom, which is saddening.  I’m a teacher in a salesperson’s clothes….but luckily they’re very nice clothes.  My wardrobe is looking much better now that I’ve landed a management position at Chico’s.  It was timely change considering that I’ve lost over 30 lbs since June.  (So fun!)  It’s also a strange change – only once in my adult life have I been this fit.  I’m finding all kinds of angles and edges to my body that I’ve never had before.  Losing my fat cushion reveals that I’m more of a klutz than I realized.  I find bruises all over from countertops and tables that are harder than they used to be.

My dating life got a bit of a jumpstart this summer.  I decided that after two years in China, my social circles had dwindled and I wanted to meet people.  After a few weeks of emailing on match.com, I had a whirlwind of dates like I’ve never experienced before.  I quickly learned marathon dating was NOT MY STYLE, so I put the kibosh on that and started scheduling more coffee dates with old friends.

This has also been the summer of weddings.  One summer I remember attending seven weddings.  SEVEN.  This summer there were only three, but they were significant family weddings filled with high highs, low lows, countless carbs, and many happy tears.  They’ve left me with a stack of pictures, memories, and a new sister!

I’m reveling in autumn, family, smooshy sweaters, and clothes off the rack with long enough sleeves.  I’m drinking in the fresh air, smooth coffee, and the sound of rain.  I literally got tears of joy the other day over a croissant that croissant-ed to perfection.  It’s been good to be back.

And yet.

It’s strange that I’m not boarding a plane.  I miss being around people who considering relocating a normal part of life.  I miss my Chinese friends, and I keep thinking I see people from my apartment complex everywhere.   I miss cold street noodles, cheap supermarkets, sanrenche (3 wheeled bikes), and CRAZY DRIVERS.  Mostly I mix expatriats, people committed to living as an ethnic and cultural ‘other’ because it’s worth it.  It’s hard, tiring, fascinating, humbling, and quite possibly one of the most rewarding things a person can do.  I miss meeting that kind of person.  Part of me was afraid that I’d lose that part of myself, the learner, the risk taker, the I’ll-figure-out-whatever-happens-because-it’s-completely-beyond-my-control side of me.  I talked with my neighbor about it as I prepared to leave China.  He just said, “Naaaah.  You’ve got it in your blood now, living overseas.  You’ll go again.”  It was a comfort to me then, and even now as I try to assimilate.

American culture is tough.  Productivity is expected at every moment.  A person’s emotional dynamics are much more varied, vivid, and projected, which is fun, but exhausting.  The pace of life has been the hardest to adapt to, and driving is less fun than it used to be.

And then there’s this:

I’m tired of hearing people complain about non-English speakers.  Leaving one’s home country and acclimating to life elsewhere is mind-boggling, challenging, adventurous, and extremely challenging.  Not speaking a language is not a mental deficiency or being deliberately obtuse.  It’s also not something that can be remedied with a few months of hard work.  On the contrary, not speaking the local language demands that a person constantly use practical problem-solving skills and creative deductions every single hour of every single day.  Complaining about people who don’t speak English in America shows complete ignorance about the challenges they overcome every day.  It’s also pretty selfish.  English is the trade language of our era.  It’s common for people to learn it as a secondary language.  However, it’s not moral failing if they don’t.  Come on ‘muricans.  Don’t be such a bunch of whiners.  Learn a language.

That’s one of the goals I’m choosing for myself before I move on again.  I expect to be in America for a while, but I know my international work isn’t over yet.  I spent two years in China.  China was good to me, and I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything!  I fully expect to work overseas again, though I doubt China is the destination.

But now, now I prepare.  My feet are happily planted here for the nonce, but my vision looks outward with hope.

This Is My Life

Beetles.  Scorpions. Locusts.  Centipedes.  Frogs.  Sheep testicles.

This may sound like a line-up of Fear-Factor challenges, but it was actually the MENU of dinner last weekend!  The university hosted a faculty trip to Kaifeng, which is known locally for a great night market and good food.  Apparently "good food" actually means mind-blowing I-can't-believe-people-eat-this type food.  I wandered around gajillion food stalls and watched hundreds of snacks get boiled, fried, pounded, seasoned and served.

I limited myself to new encounters only, looking for new stories to

tell....and wow, did I find a few!  Insects definitely have a crunchy factor, but the taste was actually pretty good - fried, crunchy, spicy - really not so bad as long as you could get over the fact that you were eating wings.  My favorite were the beetles.  The centipede proved challenging when one of my friend's got a leg stuck in his teeth.  It took him almost a full minute to disentangle it.  You know that terrible mental image you just got of the dangling bug?  I got to witness that firsthand.

The biggest challenge for most was the sheep testicles.  Frankly, we

aren't sure if it was sheep or goat, but we ARE sure which organ it was.  Carefully sliced, scored, chopped, boiled, then stir-fried in delicious ways, but even the food vendor was surprised to see a blue-eyed white chick order it.  We passed it around the table, challenging each other to try a bite.  As it turns out, the real challenge was chewing it...and chewing, and chewing, and chewing....

I've been terrible about updating my blog lately - my sincerest apologies - but I just HAD to tell the world about this little adventure!

The Birds of St Sophia

I'm currently sitting in Haerbin China, sipping a Chestnut macchiato in Starbucks, looking out the window.  The sky is clear and blue, with sunlight glinting off the curved copper domes topping Russian buildings.  My toes are painfully numb, while my hands are swelling with the sudden heat of this delectable macchiato.  I hope for the sake of Americans everywhere that chestnut flavoring is not limited to Chinese consumers.  I try to savor it slowly while my toes come back to life.  Hordes of Chinese traipse up and down Center street, while buses trundle under thin metals arches that span the road lined with spindly, naked trees.  As I wandered the city taking pictures yesterday, I noticed that I passed over buildings and monuments in favor of the winter trees.  I have always found leafless trees impossibly beautiful, their exposed skeletons lacing in a myriad of intricate patterns, the structure and strength of the tree refusing to die in the cold.  In a bare tree, willpower and hope are enmeshed.  Outside this window, I see a giant ice sculpture next to a Russian bakery. This American coffee shop is next to my favorite clothes-store in Asia, which is Japanese.  The street is lined with Chinese restaurants and culminates in a town square featuring beautiful St. Sophia, an old brick church topped with dark green domes sprouting golden crosses.  An old Chinese woman sells bags of corn for the birds - I can almost hear her say 'tuppence a bag.'  At her whistle, a flock of white doves take wing, swirling around the spires perfectly synchronized.  My toes are warm enough to feel now.  There are few moments in life as delightful as this!

The K-Train

The Kattle Train.  The Krap Train.

The faces of my fellow laowai filled with the Spirit of K-trains past. "Ugh, full of farmers who don't read signs." "They'll smoke on board." "It's full of Chinese." "You'll stand the whole way." "The toilets overflow."  Then they asked "Hard-sleeper or soft sleeper?"  "Hard-seat," I said.  The stunned, blank silence told me everything I needed to know: I had scheduled the Train of Doom.*

I had no problem maintaining my enthusiasm despite their grimacing smiles, but I began mentally preparing myself.  I imagined a wood paneled interior with unpadded wood seats, propping my feet up on my backpack for thirty hours** as a round, middle aged man named Li yells over the din to his family sitting on the other side of the car. I brainstormed (as always) ways to avoid interacting with public sewage, and reminded myself that nothing can be as gross as wading through 3/4" of human ka-ka at a Xi'an rest stop. I was a little worried that I might need to stand for several hours, but reasoned that the purchase of standing room must be a thing of the past.

I was a bit surprised at some of the comments people made.  The train will be full of Chinese? No joke Sherlock, WE LIVE IN CHINA.  And why complain about farmers? City-folk are definitely more comfortable around foreigners, but country-folk can be really friendly!  I gave several committal, "Oh, hmmm..." kind of responses, and got even more excited for whatever adventure I was about to encounter.

I finished packing at 1am (which is incredibly early for me) and stayed up until 3am, trying to iron out the perfect color scheme for a new blog.***  I was very proud to check every single thing off my list. Laundry folded. Check. Fridge emptied.  Check.  Apartment clean, swept, bleach poured in the toilet bowl.  Check, check, CHECK!  Could anyone be more accomplished than I?  I topped of preparation perfection with a leisurely breakfast with friends and posed for a picture with my very full backpack.****

Navigating a bus or train station is always easier than I anticipate.  Once upon a time, the idea of finding a platform without knowing the local language ranged from daunting to frightening.  If you ever find yourself lost in a terminal where no one speaks English, this is what you do:

          1. Show your ticket to someone in uniform

          2. Walk toward where they point

          3. If you have not reached your desired destination, repeat steps 1 & 2

After that, switch into lemming mode and follow your fellow passengers.  That's it.  No panic necessary.  China has brought out my inner lemming, so I wasn't nervous about finding my train. However, this is my first solo international trip, so I cut myself extra time. Plenty of time. Too much time.  TWO HOURS of extra time.  But there are worse things.

I rounded the corner resolutely optimistic, ready to take on my shabby, crazy train adventure.  I was greeted with row upon row of happy little red and yellow striped trains slowly pulling in and out of the station as neatly coiffed conductors with long blue coats and sharp hats helped milling people find the correct car.  I wanted to take a picture, but didn't want to break the traffic flow as I lemminged my way to my car.

I did not share a small seat with Li.  My seat mates were Lacy and her boyfriend.*****  Lacy had remarkably good English, and she acted as my unofficial interpreter during the trip.   In the past 8 hours, I've exchanged travel photos with Lacy, bought and consumed long kon, and played "Mafia" using a weird mix of Chinese and English.

[For those familiar with the game, when it was MY turn to be the killer, and they accused me, my defense went something like this, "Just because I'm a foreigner, it doesn't mean that I'm a murderer." They laughed so hard, especially when they found out I WAS guilty,]

Other highlights included an ugly fist-fight about 5-6 rows in front of me, an aspiring admirer who tried to give me fruit, and re my seat mates how to play Egyptian Ratscrew.  Our remarkable deck of cards had three makeshift cards made out of an envelope. The game got so loud and involved that we drew a small crowd of spectators as we steamed up the windows. 

11:40PM

Lily is sleeping on her boyfriend, her head covered with a coat like a bird that's been put to sleep for the night.  He has a red horse stuffed animal under his arm, probably a gift for someone back home.  It IS the year of the horse, after all.  A man in front of me is peeling an apple with a penknife.  Considering the amount of natural cushion I have, this seat is remarkably hard.

12:30AM

I'm growing perturbed about the loud TV show people are playing, but I think Uncle is fixing it. I might I love him.  It's starting to get cold.  I wonder if I'll wake up to snow...

I did NOT wake up to snow, but I did watch a hot pink sun rise a set out opposite sides of the train that day.  The K-train was not at all as terrible as people made it out to be.  However, sitting for 32 hours is surprisingly painful.  I really lucked out with my seat mates: 3 recent college graduates, and 4 middleaged people.  I was seated away from the wall, which made sleeping impossible.  The older people had an unofficial rotation going on, swapping seats so others could take a turn leaning against the wall, or putting their head on the table.  Somewhere in the haze after midnight and before dawn, i got put into that rotation by the grace of God and the good hearts of the Chinese people.

By the end of the trip, I felt very Chinese. I had encountered every major, common cultural clash and didnt really feel fazed.  Squatty-potties on the train, questions about age and marital status, being stared at (literally) for hours by people who had no intention of talking to me, questions about how much I spent on things,****** giving and receiving food to and from strangers, getting photos taken, an impressing people with my mad chopstick skills.  My Chinese cellphone always gets me points for being in-the-know too.  Sometimes I feel like a celebrity in one of those articles you see in tabloids: They drink coffee like us! They buy toilet paper like us! They take their kids to the park like us!  This trip was one of those times.  With help from Lacy, I chatted with the older people. They seemed tentative at first, but by the time we got to Haerbin, they approved of me.*******

My taxi driver was a bit of a stinker, and my hotel room is...worthy of its own blog post, but 12 hours of sleep fixed the world.  My ToD experience, while quite memorable, wasn't nearly as awful as I anticipated.  I'm thankful I didn't manage to lose that last 10lbs - goodness knows I needed it to survive the hard seat! 

Stay tuned for more adventures....

*Train of Doom hereafter referred to as ToD.

** This part of my nightmare was inspired by my real-life story of traveling the length of Thailand curled up in the fetal position for 13 hours on a bus with no shocks that blasted bad rave music through the dead of night with an interior lit by neon purple lights.  True story.

***I have an excellent sense of priorities.

**** For the record, I did NOT overpack. Temperatures in Haerbin have been ranging from -30 to -9 C. Warm clothes are excessively fluffy

*****That's not entirely accurate. Her name was Lacey Li....but you get my point.

******Specifically my boots, which I was REALLY proud of! I shopped all ocer two cities to find goosnow boots made out of leather and wool that were waterproof, cheap, and large enough to fit my feet. This is surprisingly difficult to do, and I ended up with a pair of man-ish, yet comfortable boots for around $38 USD. Two men around my Dad's age were checking them out, so I unzipped the side to show them the lining. One guy felt the wool, and they asked the price. When I told them, they nodded in approval of my great shopping skills, and told me they were good quality. WIN!

*******You know a Chinese person has accepted you if they pat you on the arm or shoulder, or if they give you something to eat.

Re-Entry

If ever I take a break from writing, I feel compelled to explain myself when I resume.

On August 26, I flew back to China via LA and Seoul.  Somehow I managed to get over jet-lag within a week, and threw myself into faculty meetings and preparations for the year.  It's amazing how much easier life is this year.  I know where things are, I know how to interact with people I can't talk to, and the culture shock is, well, less shocking.  Surprises are amusing instead of mind-boggling, and I have a better understanding how to balance the expending and recharging of my time and energy.  In addition, I've lost 30 pounds since August!  Sounds like life's been pretty good, right?  Yay for me!

So this is what I've been telling people.  All of it is true.  But that's not what's truly been consuming my energy, thoughts and heart.

A week before I left America, I experienced a significant personal loss.  The blow was unexpected and savage, shredding me in ways that I haven't felt in years.*  My fingertips were numb for days, but the rest of me wouldn't stop feeling.  Goodbyes were stunted as I threw what little energy I had into packing for another year abroad.**  Those closest to me took turns caring for me, encouraging me, or explaining how it would all be "worth it in the long run."  Days blurred, and I kissed my family goodbye, and flew away from everything.

And then the Nothing.  The loss, the Nothing, with its immense, commanding presence, came with me. 

Every day I've looked at Nothing and responded.  I've wished that I could quit, but quitting has never been an option for me.  How can I?  Life moves, and I don't have the choice to stand still.  It feels like playing Halo with my brother.***  There's nothing I muck up quite so thoroughly as playing Halo with my brother.  He's patient with me, but usually ends up laughing as my solider moves around in circles, shoots at the sky, or runs into a wall repeatedly as he gets shot.  I'm proud when I can walk my character in a straight line, and ecstatic when he does what I intended him to do.  That's how I've felt for the past two months.  I look at Nothing, and try.  Sometimes I end up huddled against a wall, trying to remember how to turn around before I get shot.  Other times I walk in a straight line and duck when I need to.  Unlike Halo, I can't opt out of this game with Nothing.

I'm stubborn.  I get frustrated being stuck in this place that I don't want to be in, tired of the colors in my world being dimmed.  God knows all things, but I don't.  Sometimes it makes me angry that He leaves me out of the loop, even when logic tells me that it may be for my benefit.  He's been patient with my frustration, leading me when I'm able to bear it, and not before.  Look out for more on that in future posts.

It's been a grim season.  I've learned that faith doesn't always feel sustaining, and that trusting doesn't always encourage the heart.  One can trust and hurt.  One can have faith and suffer.  For the past two months, I've vacillated between wanting to hide inside myself, and wanting the world to understand how deeply this struck.  My experience as a performer has been invaluable; I'm experienced at boxing up and setting aside my feelings to achieve a task, even if it feels unnatural.  Much has felt unnatural these past weeks.  It's only been in this last week that I feel like I'm coming back to myself a bit.

When I first re-entered China, I thought often about how I needed to update my blog.  For the first three weeks, the idea of writing made my hands drop heavily to my sides.  I can't lie here.  It's one thing to wear a smile for a stranger, and it's another thing to write with shallow happiness.  For me, to write is to create Something, and my Nothing was too agonizingly vivid.  I write now to re-enter my writing world, to create again.  It may not be pretty, but I have to start somewhere.

To all my dear friends who will be concerned on my behalf: I'm not alone here, just choosing a little quiet space.  Many good things have happened in the past two months that have encouraged and uplifted me.  I'm not going to break. :)

*To the person I lost: I still exist.  Your silence is so very loud.

**If I failed to REALLY say goodbye to you, I apologize whole-heartedly.  It was due to my pain, not to the lack of affection I feel for my friends.

***My brother and I do a weird variety of really enjoyable stuff so we can spend time together.  Sometimes that includes late-night happy hour after 8-hr shifts, running errands across the city, picking out weird instruments in a soundtrack, or cooking really great food.

Wonderful Water

After sleeping for 31/2 hours, I taught three classes and managed to eat dinner before collapsing on my sofa.  I was covered with a fine layer of China-grit, my legs and stomach ached, and my noses-knowses-my-toeses-weren't-roses.  My living room bore the wreckage of Hurricane Semester-Grades, but I tried to ignore it as I zoned out on my computer, chatting with a friend.

I decided that putting China-grit in my bed was an option too disgusting to consider.  I maneuvered around dirty dishes and piles of laundry* to flip on my hot water, weeping inwardly over my lack of a bathtub.  Then I remembered that I had hot water.  Not just hot water, but a hot water TANK, which I inherited (for free) when I moved into my apartment.  Having a tank means that I can have hot water whenever I want it, and I don't run out.  Then I thought about how I had finished my grades on time without feeling stressed out or having to run to class.  Of course, I HAD to finish them early because I had a morning Skype-date with a friend in Portland.

And then I had a mocha.
Then a student checked up on me after class because I seemed down. (Tired.)
Then talked with another friend in Chile after my classes.
While I was drinking an imported beverage.
Then I streamed a TV show. (Because I have the best wifi signal in our apartment building.)
A TV show in English.

These thoughts were running through my head, and before I realized it, I was singing along with the radio, thanks to technology, awesome wifi, and companies who think that music should be free.  And to top it off, a friend gave me a water dispenser this week.  I put down a one-time, refundable $6.50 deposit.  I now have access to free filtered water delivered to my door for as long as I want.  Things that are the norm in America just....aren't a guarantee in other countries.  I'm not being sarcastic or dramatic when I say that I'm really excited that I can fill my water bottle before class without having to boil water, ask for water from a tea shop, or wait 3 minutes as the machine in the cafeteria fills my bottle one drop at a time.  I have water - hot water in my shower, and clean water in my bottle.  I have access to international friends, music, entertainment, and I live in China, engaging in life through a completely new venue with people that I really enjoy.

I'm still exhausted.  I still want a bathtub and a cheeseburger.  But I have to say, my life is pretty awesome.


*I'm not typically a slob, but at the end of the term housework is low on my list of priorities.

The Future

I miss school. Being IN school. Maybe I just miss the structure of having someone tell me EXACTLY how to go about doing my work, or maybe I miss having colleagues hold me accountable to an extremely high standard. Or the smell of new books or the energy of a college hallway. Which sounds ridiculous considering that I work AT a college. Someday I'll go back. Someday when I have money and know which PhD program I want. When I get there, I will have paid off all my loans, acquired the perfect body and a sailboat that I will be able to sail successfully on my own across multiple hemispheres. I'll be finishing my final draft of a book, which I'll write to satisfy the requests of my blog followers. In my mind's eye, I have the perfect haircut and a grey power-suit with a pencil skirt that never wrinkles. Wonderfully cultured men will vie for my attention, but I don't have time for them. The choirs I teach will perfectly incorporate indigenous instruments from whatever culture I live in. My compositions will be highly sought after, and the concerts I conduct will move people to tears. (In a good way.) Every morning will begin with yoga, a cup of tea, and a good book. Powerful people will listen to my opinions respectfully, and I'll build schools for forgotten people in unfathomable places. In fact, the UN will be grooming me to work in a position developing international educational systems, but I may opt to be a professor at my alma mater instead. I'll have some kind of absurd pet, like a skunk or a monkey or a lemur named either Sylvia or Charles. And I will never sweat. I think I'll get there in the next 10 years.

The future is a good place.

In other news, I'll be returning to China next year.

Culture-Win

The following is an excerpt from a letter I wrote to a friend a couple weeks ago after an incredibly successful evening out with my students.


"I had a major 'culture-win' tonight.

Compared to the stories I hear from other teachers, I am incredibly blessed with amazing students. At the beginning of the year, skill and work ethic levels were all across the board. At this point of the year, all of my students follow me, almost all of them respect me, and many (maybe most?) of them like me. Except for ONE.

In my largest class, there are two stink butts*. One of them is completely disengaged 90% of the time, but she's respectful about it. The other one is AWFUL - heaving heavy sighs, rollings his eyes, laying his head on the desk, looking straight into my eyes and keeping his mouth closed when he's supposed to be practicing new sounds or words. Every student has a day when they're not learning well, but he's consistently a disrespectful jerk that I want to kick in the shins.** I've worked really hard to handle it in ways that don't make him lose face, because 1) if he's embarrassed, he'll shut me out. 2) If the class feels bad for him, they will ALL shut me out. After months of covert effort with moderate success, I finally hit a point yesterday where I felt like I was the one losing face by allowing him to treat me the way he does.

The way to handle conflict in China is to use a mediator to soften the blow. The way Americans (especially me) handle conflict is swift, clear confrontation. See the problem there? I hate involving a third party. Why make more drama than necessary? But my first goal is to create an environment that will help my students learn - their culture, their rules. So after class I invited my monitor (class leader) out to dinner tonight, told her vaguely that I wanted to discuss a couple of problems and invited her to bring a friend she trusted along. I didn't want her to feel too isolated. Chinese business meetings are 90% social exchanges, then a 10% business, usually at the end of a full meal. When I met my student that night, I saw she brought not one, but NINE STUDENTS from my class! I thought, 'Well....nevermind then. We'll just have fun.' Following tradition, we got a private room in a nice little restaurant, they gave me the honor seat (such a subtle, lovely nicety), and ate fantastic food. It was really fun to swap girl-talk with my students!

After we had finished, the monitor asked me what it was that I wanted to talk about. Then I realized that they were all aware of and completely ready to talk through the issues. I never mentioned the problem-student by name, but when described the problems, it it was obvious they knew who I was talking about. I said over and over that as a CLASS I was very pleased with them, but that I felt loss of face because of this one person's disrespect. What followed was an excellent and open conversation.

These 10 women are all committed, consistent students, and there are only 35 students in the whole class. I talked through my problem, described how I would approach it in America and my concern with the cultural conflict if I used the same tactics in China. They appeared to respect and appreciate the consideration, and they gave excellent feedback. I cannot explain how affected I was by the riveted attention and serious expressions on their faces. They were concerned WITH me about the problem, displaying an amazing level of maturity and invested care. I felt respected on a very deep level.

We exchanged ideas, and they laughed when they told me, "Back in the dorms, we talk about how smart you are about how you respond to people who don't listen very well and how you rearrange the classroom!" They also mentioned the overall positive change in attitude about class since the beginning of the year. We talked about activities that did and didn't work well. Luckily they were most critical about stupid activities that I was REQUIRED to teach! So I told them, "Yeah, I thought that was dumb too. My boss told me I had to teach this idea this way." We all laughed, and had a wonderful conversation about learning theory and how an activity that isn't helpful for one person can be very important for the learning of another person. I could see their worlds exploding a little bit - I love it when that happens!

An unrelated but meaningful part of the night were a couple of short, powerful conversations about how to recognize the difference between good and bad men. (Chinese college-aged girls have a reputation among the foreigners for being idealistic, naive, and uneducated about relationships. They idealize traditional male-female roles and they have no sex education. Many of my college-age students are sexually active, but they don't know how babies are made or what STD's are because it's taboo to talk about.) Many Chinese women are victims of physical abuse. We talked about the personality traits of good men, how to see them, which kinds of men to avoid. They were so attentive - I could see that some of them had only talked about it once or twice, and many of them not at all.

After dinner we took a walk through the park holding hands (yes, I've expanded my cultural comfort-bubble to accept holding hands with a woman), learning words in Chinese and telling stories. We made plans to go to KTV (a karaoke chain), ride bikes to the mountain, and go pick strawberries.

I feel like this was an all-around complete "culture win." I had a problem, stepped out of my cultural comfort-zone, followed Chinese protocol, and won the respect of my students. They felt empowered to speak openly and wholly considered a perspective very different from their own. Now all I have to do is show that I've truly heard their feedback, which won't be difficult at all. Even if the stinker student completely flies off the handle, I know that a third of my class made of the best, most vocal students will see it as a temper tantrum instead of a reaction to an "offensive foreigner." They will be supporting ME. There was so much potential for things to go badly tonight, but I took the time, did it right, and it really paid off.

It was such a rich, rewarding experience. It was one of those times that remind me just how much my students matter to me."

I still prefer direct communication, but I'm proud that I was able to relate with my students in the way they needed me to.

*Stink-butt is a technical teacher-term

**I've never actually tried this

Not Dead

Hello friends and family!  First of all, I want to take a moment and assure you,

I AM NOT DEAD.

Secondly, I apologize for the gigantic pause I took between posts.  There are a few reasons.  Wait wait - here, lists are more impressive:

• I took a vacation.  For a month.  Worth every second.
• We started a new term of school, and working legitimately eats up a fair amount of time.
• God and I had a couple things to talk through.
• I had to decide whether or not to return to China, and my thoughts were all over the board.  It was consuming a lot of my thinking, and I decided that it was a private process.
• I still haven't settled on what my plan for next year is.  I feel like a high school senior who hasn't picked a college or made a plan yet - in that awkward phase when every friendly person asks you what you're going to do next year, and you struggle to come up with something more eloquent than, "Uhhh...."
• During my vacation, I met a friend who loves writing as much as I do.  Correspondence became my primary writing outlet.  Basically I've been cheating on my blog with my pen-pal. I apologize.  It's nothing personal.
• I felt guilty about my failure to blog, so I avoided it even more.  Then my mom told me that my Papa put in a personal request that I start writing again.  (Sorry Papa!!)
• Expressing 'in-the-moment' feelings of culture shock isn't always constructive.
• I've been lazy.

If you were to flip through a lifetime of my journals (please don't) you'd see that every time I stop writing for a few months, I have to explain why.  This is the first time that OTHER people have cared! I have to admit, the fact that people read this still feels a little unreal.  If you bother to follow my life and times,* send me a comment every once in a while so I know you're real!  It's so encouraging when I hear from you.

I have so many stories to tell, stories about my vacation, about students, pollution storms, acupuncture, haggling wars...  I'm sorry for being a lame blogger lately.  More to come soon!

*I was typing fast when I wrote this sentence, and my typos read 'lies and ties,' which is really funny!!  ...and not at all reflective of a secret agenda. =)

Computer Use in China

Dear Friends,

As you've seen, I am fairly free and open in my speech here on blogger (my blogging venue).  Over the past week several of my colleagues have been struggling to get service because their VPNs* were failing.  I've felt very lucky to have such good coverage!

I got a message from my VPN server this morning saying that internet security has increased because the Chinese congress is in session.  I adjusted the settings on my computer accordingly, but it does make me a little nervous because I speak so freely.  However, I have no plans to change that!

If we've Skyped recently, don't worry about it.  Skype is supposed to be very secure.  Frankly, I've found the general atmosphere in China to be for more open than I anticipated.

Please pr. for the thorough work of the people who manage my VPN and for the safety and communicative ability of my colleagues.  They're having a hard time being cut off from their emails, facebook, and families.  What a blessed person I've been!



*A VPN is a virtual private network.  Basically it tricks my computer into thinking that it is always operating in the United States.  This protects my information and allows me to have access to sites that are otherwise blocked in China, like facebook, youtube, and some google applications.

Bonnie Bunny

Many little girls grow up dreaming of the day they can be a mommy.  I wasn't one of them.  My momma told me I could be whatever I wanted to be, and that God had something special just for me.  So instead of naming my children, I grew up dreaming about being a writer or astronaut or scientist or explorer.  I even had a brief fire-fighter stage.  It hasn't been until recently that I've been bitten by the mommy-bug.  There are several single female teachers here (and yes, eligible men as well) and a recurring conversation theme: When will we have families?  Do we HAVE to wait for husbands in order to raise children?  Personally, I speak strictly from the 'what-if' category on that; I have no plans to adopt at this time. =)

However-

My friend recently bought a bunny, and my maternal instincts instantly went into overdrive.  In lieu of adopting a Chinese baby, it occurred to me that adopting a Chinese bunny might fulfill my need to mother.

Where's PETA when you need them?

This instigated a bunny-hunt, which involved talking to several Chinese friends and students, renting motor bikes (bikes with motors, not motorcycles - a stroke of Chinese brilliance) and spending hours touring all over Xinzheng to find the pet-market.  Interestingly enough, the pet rabbits were right next to the meat rabbits.  The poor things were all jammed into metal baskets so tightly that they couldn't move.  From what I've seen, Chinese people are not gentle with their animals AT ALL.  Adults allow children to smack and poke them, and the sellers are rather rough with them, ripping off matted hair and carelessly squashing their faces as they pull them in and out of cages.

Cassie

Chatting after a stressful ride

I chose my bunny, a beautiful little 'Panda-rabbit' with black ears and a speckled back, picked out a spacious cage, and marveled at my student's ability to maneuver a bike AND a caged rabbit through the crowded streets of Xinzheng.  (By the way, riding those bikes is not as easy as it sounds.  I almost biffed once when my student wasn't looking.  I saw an old Chinese man watching me, so I said, 'Shhh!' and pointed at my student.  Conspiratorial laughs with strangers are the best!)




My bunny had a bit of a messy tummy, so that night I did something I've never done before: I gave a rabbit a bath!  Blow-drying a rabbit is not as easy as blow-drying a dog. The fur is really soft and short - it's impossible to brush, and took forever to dry, but she was too little to leave wet.  Wet bunny in a towel?  Maybe the cutest thing.



After much deliberation I decided to name her 'Bonnie' because she was such a perky little thing, and I liked the alliteration.  She especially liked running behind the sofa and exploring my bedroom.  I decided to potty train her (which required hunting down cat litter) but she pooped on my blanket and peed in my favorite shoes within the first two days.  Not ON my favorite shoes - IN my favorite shoes.

It was worth it though. She spent a lot of time meeting my friends, and hanging out around my feet.  What a trusting soul!

She learned how to Skype, met Blake, and spent a lot of time tracking his face back and forth across the screen.  What kind of mom would I be if I didn't photo-capture the cuteness?

Lucy and Bonnie having a bonding moment.  Once she was safely at home and not crashing around Xinzheng, Bonnie was fairly confident.  My apartment must have been a haven of calm in comparison to the craziness of the pet market.

She hung out in the pocket of my awesome jammies while I did laundry the other day.



This past week was Culture Week at Sias.  It involves a lot of presentations and performance by the foreign faculty that teaches world history and showcases multicultural performance arts.  Bonnie seemed a little tired (I presumed it was due to my late nights) so she was in her cage while I was turning my friend Elizabeth into a salsa dancer.  I was almost done with her hair when I hear a squeak.  "Is that my bunny?" I wondered aloud.  Since when do bunnies make noise?  I stuck my head out of the bathroom and saw poor Bonnie stretched out on the floor of her cage.  Elizabeth and I went over to check her out, and the little thing squeaked again.  I jumped up and grabbed a couple hundred yuan and my shoes while Elizabeth called a Chinese speaking friend to go to the vet with me.  I ransacked my cupboards for a box, spurred on by the anxious little cries.  I found one, but before I could get the cage open, she arched her back, and died.

I've never watched anything die in pain like that.  Surely there is nothing quite as pathetic and heartrending as the frightened, pained cries of a baby bunny.  I would have taken her to the vet earlier if I had recognized the signs of a sick rabbit. So sad...

I was then faced with an immediate dilemma:  what do I do with her?  I have an immense capacity to deal with unpleasant things, but I do NOT handle dead things well.  It's not the death itself that's difficult, it's the corpse.  I try not to show it, but they really scare me.  What an irrational fear - it's not going to jump up at me or DO anything.  I have to mention that this doesn't apply to food sources or animals that I've hunted/caught for food.  I can even grit my teeth and get through a dissection just fine, but fetal pigs are pushing it.  I don't even want to think about dissecting cats!  When I was 17 we had a lovo  (like a luau) for a friend's wedding, and one of my best friends thought it would be a great idea to chase me with the pig's head....outside...in the dark...surrounded by sleeping Fijians.  (PS: I'M NOT OVER IT YET.)

I hate this part of me.  It makes me feel weak and heartless.  Who goes to a funeral of a loved one and shudders at the sight of their corpse?  Why is it that I can adore my dog for years and have a hard time touching her only minutes after her death?  What logic can possibly be behind the fear of a corpse?  None.  There is no logic, but I can't shake the aversion.

I told Elizabeth a little about it as she prepared to leave for her salsa dance.  That amazing woman offered to come back and take care of little Bonnie for me!  I hate that I was relieved, but I was.  She left to dance, leaving me with my tiny bunny corpse.  I covered the cage with a blanket, and sat bravely in the same room, hating my cowardice, but also full of gratefulness for my friend's help.

For the last several years, it's been a goal of mine to conquer my fear of corpses.  They are the only thing that really frighten me.  My independent streak tells me that I should be able to deal with things on my own, ALL things.  If someone breaks into my house, I don't scream - I pick up something heavy to swing.  If there's a fire, I try to put it out instead of calling the fire department (like a sensible person should).  I've wanted to conquer this THING, but now I wonder, why should I?

Chinese people do everything within their power to disperse negative feelings.  They usually try to diffuse tension by dispersing it among many people.  If one person has a problem with another, they get another person to work it out for them.  From an American perspective this looks like 'ganging up' on someone, but in China it's like every person is a mediator.  If you're down, people swarm you with happiness until you can't help but smile.  Even if your smile stems from politeness rather than compulsion, the outward act can lead to the feeling.  In a way, contentment of the individual is the responsibility of the community.  The individual relies on their community's support, but is conscious and eager to support others.

I'm a naturally independent person.  I fear little.  Maybe it's okay for me to have this area of weakness.  Maybe it's okay for me to need other people's help once in a while.  Of course there are many areas in life where I've received help and assistance before, but that has been largely situational.  It's a bit different to acknowledge that I have a constant and predictable weakness.  Moving overseas has been a both/and experience so far; I've grown both more independent in action and more reliant on the support of others in issues of the heart.  In moving here, I wanted to become more independent and free.  Now that I'm here, I feel like I'm learning that relying on your community requires trust and a willingness to release control.  It's scary to admit that you need another person, especially if you don't know if that person will come through.  But it's through that vulnerability that people can truly love one another.

My sweet and sad little time with Bonnie bunny left me with a bag of rabbit food and an empty cage.  It was so nice to have something to love on, but it might be a while before I get another bunny.  She was a sweetheart, and I miss her.

The Only Quiet Place in China

I feel like I’ve just stepped into the twilight zone – I’m in a quiet room.  In earlier posts I talked about the oppressively high volume of everything in China.  The dorms are open and loud, and the restaurants and tea shops are really just for eating, not parking with books.  I knew my students study, but I couldn’t figure out where.

In America, libraries are full of books.  In China, libraries are full of students.  The first floor is filled with books.  The space on the second floor is split evenly between books and students, and the third floor doesn’t have any books at all – just one massive, open, silent room, full of students.  There are maybe 150-200 people in a room the size of a small basketball court or two mammoth choir rooms, and no one is talking.  Apparently ‘studying together’ in China means studying in the same place, not speaking with one another about class content.

This is the first time I’ve felt overwhelmed by my singular whiteness.  Maybe it’s because it’s so quiet.  Or maybe it’s because every face is down and I was surprised with a sea of black hair when I expected books.  As awkward and strange as this is – it’s also so CALM.  I love it!  My phone just went off – so awkward!  I feel the tension seeping out of my shoulders now that I’ve found a place where the loudest sound is a backpack zipper or muted cough.  This is fantastic…    

Awkward Moments

I expected to experience new things in China: tastes, smells, sounds, sights, confusions.  But equally new and surprisingly unexpected are the awkward exchanges between me and Chinese people.  Something will happen, the Chinese person will walk away, and my inner child is left squishing up her face saying, 'Wait. What? Hold on now - WHAT just happened?'  Then I tuck away my anecdote, pat the inner child on the head, and go on with my day.

Sound a little vague?  Lemme 'splain.

I hate my phone, but at least
it's purple and sparkly.

During my first week here, I went to the store with my friend while he bought a phone.  He was busy with the culture student (college students with AWESOME English and extra knowledge of American culture who often help us translate) so I practiced my pantomime skills and discussed the price of iphones in America with the store employees.  The girls got really excited and asked to take pictures with me (of course).  They pulled me really close - friendship in China is high contact - talked about my makeup and then one brave soul leaned in close...and very gently touched my eyelashes.  Then I heard Michael (the culture student gasp) and yell 'No!' and I thought, 'Yup, that happened.'  Poor guy.  I thought he was gonna have a heart attack.

China was a closed country for so long that the sight of foreigners is still relatively new.  People are used to seeing the laowai on campus, but a trip into town reminds me that I'm definitely the 'other.'  I constantly see people sneaking pictures of their white friend (ie: they saw me on the street) or suddenly grabbing me for pictures.  Sometimes people push their young children at me for pictures, like a tourist attraction.  The brave ones hold up two shaky fingers in a peace sign and stare wide-eyed into the camera.  And yes, I've had children run away in fear.  Who does that?  Geez, in MY country we only forced children to take pictures with fat old men in red furry suits or people dressed like giant bunnies.  Because that's not frightening at all....

---> The next section is about a squattie potty.  Avoid if you are faint of heart or an overly visual thinker.

I think the most awkward moment I've had with a stranger so far was at a rest stop on the way to Xi'an. Squattie potties are inherently awkward, and usually filthy and smelly. (I will never complain at an American rest stop ever again.)  Sometimes there are no doors on the stalls, or they don't lock, or won't shut.  Depending on the line and sense of urgency, sometimes you just suck it up and discreetly take care of business.  (Chinese women don't seem to care, so you adapt, right?)  Anyways, I was traveling to Xi'an when this very situation presented itself.  My priority was all about completing business, so I opted to blitz through the crowd to a stall without a door.  A Chinese woman took that opportunity to stare straight into my eyes....and I couldn't get away.  I tried to shoot her a look that communicated something along the lines of 'Surely this is a mistake...' But she maintained a direct and intent study of my face.  The. Whole. Time.  All of my friends stood with their mouths hanging open, and tried to build a human shield as best they could.  I feel like all people know that direct eye contact is not okay when someone is...busy.  Utterly flabbergasting!  Back on the bus I was speechless, (a miracle!) but that's okay, because my friends told the whole bus....groan...  Yeah, maybe I shouldn't post this, but it was SO absurd!

---> End of the potty part.

I was back at my favorite coffee shop the other day, and a teenage girl found me interesting, so she watched me from the table next to me.  She tried to talk to me, but she didn't speak any English, so she kept staring.  Then she walked over to the wall divider by my table, rested her chin on her hand, her face maybe 20 inches away from my face, watching.  Maybe 20 minutes went by as I tried to work.  So very disconcerting.  I go to this shop to get away from people who could distract me from my grading.  Focus fail.  In hindsight, the girl may have been a little mentally impaired, but it wasn't glaringly apparent.  Still, the proximity made it really awkward.



All kinds of strange things happen here, but a special few leave me with that unique, slightly blank feeling and the thought, 'Yes. Yes, that just happened.'  Some of them are purely cultural differences.  Others happen because people allow curiosity to override manners.  I'm sure I've been guilty of that more than once in my life, and I'm sure people could easily provide examples!  At the end of the day you just put your face in your hands, laugh, take your inner child by the hand and move along.

Wretched Edibles

If you know me, you know that I love food.  All kinds of food.  Coming from a long line of inventive cooks makes you believe that any food can be redeemed.  Until moving to China there was only one food I couldn’t manage to swallow: raw zucchini.

(Notice the qualifier?  RAW zucchini.  Yes, I’m aware that zucchini bread rocks, zucchini relish is creative, and broiled zucchini is fall staple, but I cannot manage to swallow that crud raw.)

26 years, and there’s only one thing on the never-never list.

THEN I MOVED TO CHINA.

Preface:  I love the food here!  So creative and different, the best comfort food, ridiculous variety-- I’ve been blown away by how great the food is.  But some things….should just never be.

#1.  Sea Cucumber

I was aware that people eat sea cucumber in China, so when I saw a translucent tentacle-ish thing at an elegant banquet, I was eager to try it.  Imagine a dense jello that tastes like water and slides down with all the elegance of a rubber glove.  It was like eating a tense jelly-fish.  You’re not sure whether to chew, slurp, mush, or just swallow the thing whole and pretend like it never happened.

#2.  Things shaped like eyeballs

During my second week here I went out to hotpot with a group of experienced teachers.  Hotpot is a fantastic eating experience, delicious, social, interactive – all the fun of fondue without the peril of boiling oil.  In my individual bowl of broth there was a random assortment of veggies and spices to which I added meat, mushrooms, and more vegetables.  About halfway through the meal I found a mystery item – something round, slightly translucent, with a thin skin about the size of a quail’s egg.  It struck me as looking vaguely like an eyeball, but I chose to think of it as a marinated quail egg and just eat it.  Then it popped in my mouth.  Grittiness.  End of story.  Add to the never-never list: check.

#3.  Stinky Tofu

People have compared stinky tofu to a cheese before, a fermented food product that smells, but still tastes delicious.  The first time you smell stinky tofu, you expect to stumble over a corpse somewhere, and that’s saying something once you realize it smells worse than the garbage lying mounded in the summer sun.  As I child, I hated dog-duty.  (Yup, the doody-duty.)  Summer was the worst because of the combination of dirt, dried grass, and doody.  Imagine that smell combined with fetid diapers and corpse-ish-ness.  And then imagine putting it in your mouth.  WHY WOULD ANY SANE PERSON DO THAT????  I got some by accident on my last day in Xi’an.  It was disguised by soup and some benign-looking chicken.  The taste?  A whole lot like the smell.  I tried a few bites for politeness’s sake, but I have to say again, WHY WOULD A PERSON EVER PUT THAT IN THEIR MOUTH?? And on PURPOSE?!

If you feel like I’m being judgmental, then you are absolutely correct.  I have adventured, experienced, tasted, and judged that these vile things will never pass my lips again.

(Jesus, you hold the one trump card, but PLEASE, let this plate pass.)