Address Change

Dear Blog Readers,

I have just changed my blog address. Same person, same blog, but in a different space. The new blog address is www.xanga.com/ruthie_marie. If you click on the link, it will take you there. If you type it in, remember the underscore in "ruthie_marie." Someone already had plain old ruthiemarie (what were they thinking??). Follow me to my new address to keep in touch this next year. Thanks for reading!

Ruth

Girl Talk

Last night as I was falling asleep I realized that I was engaged in conversation as the primary activity of at least 10 hours yesterday. This past weekend my college friend Mallary (known to my teammates as my “pink Texas friend”) came to visit. We woke up and lay in bed talking for an hour before finally getting up and eating breakfast. We sat in my room and talked for another three or four hours before getting hungry enough to stop talking and eat lunch. Then we sat on the floor and talked for another hour or two before driving to the airport. And of course, when we were eating and driving and everything we were talking too. After leaving Mallary at the airport I went over to see Jessie, my friend who I probably knew pre-birth. She just got back from a summer in Africa and is first person I know who has gone to Equatorial Guinea. We went to the Starbucks they just built in our no longer little town of Loganville and then sat outside her house talking until about 1am with the crickets and tree frogs. What did we talk about for 10 hours? Everything. Everything I haven’t had the chance to talk about all year in China. It's good to have friends you can tell anything to, no matter how weird or private, and trust them to understand and not think you are psycho. And they trust you enough to tell you everything too. I miss that in China. I am working to get in my talking allowance for the rest of the year...and doing pretty well with that so far.

What is Church?

Sunday Morning
On Sunday morning I walked to church. Wheaton is a very churchy town, and as I was walking I passed dozens of people all dressed up walking and driving to and from churches on almost every corner. By the time I got to the church I was headed for, I decided that I was a little weirded out by the whole church culture. Everyone dressed up picture perfect flocking into stately buildings. It felt like…pride? I wonder what it would look like to an outsider. I walked by a park and almost stopped there because it seemed so beautiful and friendly. But it’s not like I go to church often, at least a church I can understand.

Church culture is kind of hard to crack. I feel really awkward visiting churches, and I’ve grown up in them. Even in a crowded room, everyone is alone, focused on the singers or pastor or whoever is up front. They talk about community but people hardly look at each other. They notice the clothes you wear or check to make sure your purse matches with your shoes and avoid looking into your eyes.

The music starts. Even voices, smooth transitions. It reminds me of elevator music or the “easy listening” selections. The lights dim, the music fades, and the people pray. They stand and sit down and pass the little silver trays. They all do it so smoothly, and the leaders always say the right things. The pastor speaks slowly, pausing unnaturally at places that don’t need emphasis. Do they have classes for that in seminary? When he prays at the end, the song leaders slip in quietly and are back in place by the “amen,” seamlessly moving into the closing song. The lights come back on and the performance is over.

I am left feeling surreal. This doesn’t connect to normal life. I don’t mean to bash the church people or say I am better or more sincere than them. I am sure they were sincere and that some need in them was met. I just can’t understand it anymore, because my life is full of unmatching accessories and awkward transitions and people saying the wrong things. And if my prayers had background music it wouldn’t be easy listening.

Sunday Night
Sunday night I went to a potluck kind of dinner with others from my class. We are all teachers in Asia and therefore a unique mix. We aren’t around friends most of the year, so we like to take advantage of this time to be as social as possible. After eating we sat around singing songs – hymns and rounds and even one gospel song with a three-part harmony. We aren’t too embarrassed by sounding bad or forgetting the words.

We prayed too, in between the songs, and after a while I asked for prayer about the depression. I didn’t want to, because who wants to suddenly be the vulnerable one in a big group of people? But I felt that pounding in my spirit saying, “Just do it. Just do it.” For a brief minute everyone was quiet while I looked at the floor. Then someone asked if I’d move closer in so they could pray for me.

I didn’t have to look at their eyes. I could feel the warmth in their hands and their voices as they surrounded me. I wasn’t alone in this; I couldn’t have been less alone. I don’t know that I’ve ever been surrounded by such love and acceptance. I don’t know that I’ve ever experienced so closely what community is. Some people knew me pretty well, some people hardly at all. But we were all connected together. We realize we are in this race together, and that means sharing the burdens and pains.

Wednesday Night
On Wednesday night I went to this mega church complex called Willow Creek. It was huge. For example, it had…
- A huge auditorium with two balconies of stadium seating.
- A parking lot big enough to need the rows numbered like in an airport.
- Sight maps and computer information stations.
- Waterfalls.
- Escalators in the main atrium area.
- A bookstore (the size of any independent Christian bookstore), cafeteria, and coffee shop.
- At least 6 large television screens within the main auditorium so everyone could see the speaker up close and personal like.
Thus the “church complex” part. Kind of like an airport or Disneyland. It was interesting. Kind of sensory overload.

Enculturation

Chicago is a great city. On Sunday night I went to Green Mill, a jazz club that’s one of the oldest in the country. We got really lost trying to go there and spent about 3 hours wandering around Chicago, but it was okay. I had my first taxi ride in America, in addition to my first jazz club experience. I’m now a big fan of jazz clubs. On Tuesday night I went to see “Rebel without a Cause” in Grant Park. There were lots of people at the park, but I’m still amazed by how comparatively empty the streets in Chicago are. There are big wide sidewalks with nobody on them. So it was fun to watch a movie outside with the Chicago skyline rising up on the right and fireworks going off over Navy Pier on the right. The people in front of us were serious movie watchers who kept turning around and glaring at any noise we made. The people behind us were drinking and smoking and interacting with the movie, making funny comments the whole time. My friend Easten was explaining the cultural and historical significance of all the scenes cause he’s smart and knowledgeable about that sort of thing. So even though James Dean movies are notoriously depressing, it was fun. On Thursday night I went to the Art Institute, which is probably the best art museum I’ve been to yet. It was overwhelmingly good. All these famous paintings that you’ve seen hundreds of times are suddenly two feet away and are real. Plus there were bunches of other less famous but still amazing things. I spent most of the time in Impressionism and Modern Art, but I’m thinking of going back next week to see more. It’s free two evenings a week. And last night I went to see Superman, or Superman Returns, or whatever movie it is that’s out. Friday night at a movie theater – still cultural, but in a less refined way. We sat in the very front row (another first) because it was all that was left and scrunched down in our seats so we could actually see most of the screen at one time.
Oh yeah, and in between all that I’m going to classes. I don’t want you to think I’m squandering this precious learning time or anything like that. I just want to make the best use of the precious social time too. It's not everyday you get to hang out in Chicago. It's not everyday you get to have friends around.

America Moments

I used to have these weird, “Wow, I’m in China” moments. Now I sometimes have “Wow, I’m in America” moments. Most times everything seems all normal and then suddenly you realize that you are sitting in a coffee shop. Or on an empty sidewalk by a busy street. For all the good sidewalks in this country, people don’t walk much.

I just finished the first class that I was taking, and on Monday I start the second two weeks of class. It’s kind of nuts. The last class was really interesting – Contextualization. We looked at how culture impacts all the aspects of life and how to put things into the context of different cultures. We had lots of discussions and looked at case studies and wrote papers. It gave me lots to think about but not really any answers. It’s amazing how much culture shapes everything.

My longtime friend Patti came to visit for the past few days. She saw a rather scary brain-dead, sleep-deprived version of myself. She said since going to China I have lost the ability to talk correctly. Quite true. I tend to leave out articles or put them in the wrong places and use words in forms that don’t exist. I think I’ve also lost most of my multiple-syllable vocabulary.

Wheaton

Well, I'm back to being a student. An easier role than being teacher, but one that makes it possible to tune out for longer periods of time. Classes are interesting so far, but today we were in class from 8-5. It was a long time. We did have 4th of July off, though, and that was cool. The night before I went with a group of people down to Chicago to see fireworks. There were large crowds of people kind of like in China, but unlike China, there were breaks in the crowds and nobody elbowed each other. In fact, in an American crowd, you aren't even allowed to touch other people. Everyone tries to keep their personal space barrier, which is kind of funny. So we watched fireworks and ate at an outdoor restaurant. There were lots of drunk people and lots of security guards. Walking back to the train station, there were about 6 cops on every corner - just hanging out talking to each other because nothing was going on. And on the train, there were lots of security guards. They were big and intimidating and kept walking through the cars keeping everyone calm, if not quiet.
And then Tuesday morning I saw part of the Wheaton parade. Wheaton is a small town, and it was a small town parade. Lots of families dressed in red, white, and blue waving flags. It was cute. There were bands, old cars, politicians, tractors, and two bagpipe bands. Who knew there were so many bagpipers in Wheaton?
Now I am sitting at a little coffee shop that has free wireless. I have a big mug of coffee and a soft red couch. I have my homework sitting out next to me, but clearly I'm not doing it. I've noticed that being a teacher doesn't so much make me a better student. More sympathetic maybe, but not better.
Just wanted to let you know I'm still alive. And I will be for the next three weeks, even if you don't hear from me. Happy July.

First Impressions on Visiting America

After five days, I’ve already got some funny America stories, but I’m afraid to tell them. You might not find them amusing or you might be offended. It’s harder to write about America because I’m afraid people will take me serious, and that’s scary.

When the plane wheels first hit the ground in San Francisco, I felt a little thrill go through me. Living in China has made me more patriotic in some ways because I realize that homeland is important. The first thing I noticed when I walked through the airport was how different people looked. So much blond hair, but also red and brown and black hair. Even a girl with blue hair sitting by the window. She looked scary. I also noticed families. People had children, several children not just one. There were people who were tall and athletic and petite and overweight. They all wore matching clothes. It was weird because it was normal.

This week I went to the doctor, the grocery store, a restaurant, and a bookstore. The doctor’s office was clean and efficient. He didn’t tell me to wear more layers. The grocery store was big and clean and brightly lit. I bought a bunch of stuff to ship back slow boat - baking mixes and granola bars and shortening. I talked to two little blond girls at the deli counter who had cute southern accents. The restaurant (Applebees) was clean and the menus were big and colorful and English. The food was covered with cheese and they had real salad and free refills. The plates were big enough to be platters, but everyone got their own instead of sharing. The bookstore was beautiful even though I was only there for a few minutes. It was clean too.

I’ve eaten sharp cheddar cheese, homemade bread, Cherry Coke, salad, and white sauce pizza. My stomach is re-learning to accommodate American size portions. I am really surprised though, to realize how many people are overweight here! I appreciate not being surrounded by two-dimensional people, and I’m glad for different body shapes, but Americans really are large.

I enjoy hearing country music on the radio, good southern accents, chirping crickets, and silence. I like listening to other people’s conversations but they tend to be boring. I like sitting on the floor looking up at our extensive book collection. I enjoy driving again, but I miss walking and biking.

I’ve never visited America before. It’s turning out to be a pretty interesting country.

Melancholy

It’s raining on Stinky River today. The surface of the water is ever moving and changing in brown-green dapples. It starts raining every year around this time. Kristina says practically that it’s the beginning of the rainy season, but Katrina claims that Yangzhou is crying to see us go.

I stand over the sink, washing dishes and looking out the window. In some ways, though I hardly relish a seemingly endless supply of dirty dishes, it’s still my favorite spot. Beneath the window a rusty-green trash barrel is overflowing, colorful piles of garbage scattered in soggy piles on the ground all around. A woman in a red baseball cap bends over it, picking through the remains in hopes of something salvageable. A little ways off, a straw hat lies quietly in a puddle, waiting patiently. The branches of spindly trees droop sadly.

Students walk by, their voices muffled by the quietness. Umbrellas, brought out on sunny days to shield from sun and prevent tanning, are now put to what we would consider their original use. And the rain continues to fall.

It’s hard to believe I’m leaving. Change always leaves me a little melancholy. I have put away most of my decorations to shelter from summer dust. But even so, the apartment doesn’t look nearly so bare as when I first stepped in the door last August. At that time it seemed gray and cold, and I remember being disturbed by the pasty-yellow doors. Now, even empty, it looks like home. After a year there are still a lot of things in China that seem strange and foreign. But not my apartment. I have a set of dishes and two little house plants and pictures on the fridge. Somehow because of those things I know I belong. I’m glad to go home for the summer. And in August, I’ll be glad to come back home again.

Face to Face

I can feel the sweat rolling down my back and I’ve only been sitting in this classroom for 15 minutes. I am already stuck to the chair. The fans overhead jerk at the papers on my desk but they do little to cool the room. A student walks nervously into the room, and I glance at the list. Four students down, thirty-eight left to go. Ah, final exams.

The next student comes and sits in the desk chair right next to mine. I can see the sweat beads on her face. Of course, it is only about two feet from mine. Right…not the same concept of personal space. The students have all done an oral final before, so they are not nearly as nervous as the first time around. Some of them still shake a bit and stumble over words, but no one looks like they will run out of the room screaming.

The freshmen finals are a short conversation, testing their ability to speak clearly and communicate their ideas in a comfortable, colloquial manner. I ask some open ended questions and the students answer – usually either in a 3 minute monologue until the timer goes off or in about three whispered words. We talk about school, parents, roommates, travel, dating, the future… It’s kind of interesting what students will open up and tell you. Some of the conversations I would have been glad to continue for half an hour, if not for the half a dozen other students peering anxiously through the door.

At the end I ask if they have any questions for me. A few quickly rattle off the inevitable, dreaded questions: “How do you feel about the Chinese? Do you like Chinese food? Can you use chopsticks?” Outwardly, I’m smiling and answering as quickly as possible. Inwardly, I’m bashing my head against a wall. I’ve known you for a year! Have I taught you nothing? There’s nothing offensive about these questions (except the fact that I’ve lived for a year in a place where Chinese food and chopsticks are pretty much what’s available, and clearly I haven’t starved), but after hearing them from at least half of my 300+ students, it’s hard to handle.

Next semester I think I will start out the first class with “the top 5 things that make foreigners want to bash their heads against the wall.” I’ll have them memorize it and write a speech on it. Maybe we’ll recited it as an opening to each class. No, I doubt it would work. It’s too engrained already. I guess I’ll just have to put up with it until they get tired of asking such boring questions and move on to something we can really talk about. Like, “How do you feel about armadillos? Do you like Bosnian food? Can you use a power saw?”

As the classroom dims in the evening light, the last student flees in relief. They are cute, really. Several said, “We hope you will teach us next semester!” And I found myself saying, “Yeah, I hope I will too!” What? What am I saying? I've been counting the days until I was done teaching them. Hmm, I guess it’s true though. After all, they said they would miss me. They said I was the best (though sometimes the first…) foreign teacher they’ve had. One said I have a beautiful, clear voice (when I haven’t lost it, like today when I sound like a beautiful, clear frog). They said they learned a lot and improved their English. They liked my green skirt. Okay, keep the complements coming. I’ll be back next year.

My Life as a To-Do List

Hi, I’m still alive. It’s been kind of busy. Only, let's see, 10 days until we leave, and still so much to do! So the best means of updating you on my life is by giving you my to-do list.

Thursday
*Fresh oral finals – bring class pictures
*Office hour
*Team lunch, fill out paperwork
*Junior oral finals – Bring copies for Christina, get gradesheets from Linda!
*Banquet for Chinese class

Friday
*Baby-sit Logan?
*Lunch with girls from fellowship (call Tammy)
*Shopping for gifts with Katrina
*Open House - clean, snacks, drinks, buy cups!

-Enter GL fresh grades
-Enter CC fresh grades
-Print GL Fresh, Soph finals questions
-Make Soph finals gradesheet
-Combine GL Fresh 2, Soph, and Jr grades with Corrine
-Figure out GL Fresh 1 grades with Katrina

-Student descriptions for summer cards
-End of year card for Ling, Tammy
-Newsletter? Type questions
-Write Partnership paper
-Start reading We are the World


Unfortunately, I know I won’t have it all done by next week when I’ll need to make a new to-do list. I hate transferring items without being able to scratch them off. And next week will be full of finishing finals, recording grades (lots of numbers hand written onto multiple sheets), cleaning, organizing, packing, goodbye visits, etc. But there are still good points. Like last week when I had the pleasure of catching two students who were trying to explain that they hadn't been in class practically all semester because they had leave. Did they think I wouldn't check it out with their head teacher? Busted! I can't wait to see them for the finals... hehe (evil teacher laugh).

Student "Riot"

It was 11pm, and I was just settling into bed when the yelling started. Every night at 11pm the electricity is turned off in the dormitories and the students are technically supposed to go to bed. Sometimes the guys in the dorm just across from us decide it is too early though, and they will yell in objection. Usually they will yell a couple of times back and forth and then settle down, but tonight, the yelling continued.

A few minutes later the cheering was still going on, getting louder and bursting forth in waves. I looked out of the window by my bed, and I could see flashlights jumping around in the darkened dorm rooms. I could see a few guys peering out of their balconies, but that was all.

When the yelling had continued for about five minutes, my curiosity was raised. Had something important happened that I don’t know about? Was this some sort of spontaneous celebration? I looked out my other windows but still couldn’t see any cause for the commotion. I saw that Christina’s light was on above me, so I gave her a call, but she didn’t have any idea either. We decided to scope out the scene.

I threw on some clothes and we walked outside. As we came out the door, we met a couple of post-graduate friends who were also headed toward the dormitories to find out what was happening. In the middle of the four large dormitory buildings (each housing about 1000 students) is a long, wide roadway. We joined a small crowd of students gathered nearby in frilly nightgowns and boxers and all manner of dress or undress. Even in the darkness I could see that the balconies of the dormitories were crowded with students.

Every minute or so a water bottle (mostly plastic, but a few glass) would come flying from one of the upper balconies and shatter on the ground. Each explosion brought a new round of shouts and cheering. On the ground a lone security guard stood, vainly waving around his flashlight. He yelled a few times but quickly gave in to the futility, realizing his powerlessness against the thousands of students sheltered by the anonymous darkness.

A police car drove up behind us flashing lights, and three policemen jumped out. They surveyed the scene then also stood back to watch. Even the little group of spectators on the ground barely glanced at them. Obviously they weren’t intimidated.

It was such an interesting sight that I just kept laughing. The spectators were clearly enjoying this break from the routine. Our friend said, laughing, “It’s a student riot!” (When I asked students today, they said it was perhaps a protest of the electricity shut off or seniors who are about to graduate protesting everything they couldn’t protest in the past four years.) Though confined to their dormitories, the students were united and empowered. The air was charged with excitement. There was really nothing to be done except wait for the students to get tired or bored.

Christina and I got bored before the students did. We bid our friends goodbye and went back inside. Finally at around 11:40pm the lights were turned on and the noise died away.

Really, I felt happy for the students. Sure, it was random and mostly useless, but it was one of those things that makes you wake up and remember that life is fun. Today, in our last class for the semester, I asked my students, “What is you best memory from this year?” Some of them yelled out, “Last night! Last night!” amid more cheers and laughter.

Tired of Playing the Foreigner

What is it about culture that makes it so difficult sometimes? Sometimes when I am talking to my students and Chinese friends I feel very close and think, “we are all just people. We are all very much alike.” But then other times I am frustrated by the difference. Despite our love for each other or desire to be open and honest, there are constant misunderstandings. I feel that about half the time we are talking past each other. The slightly-perplexed expression leaves our faces only in those brief moments of connection.

Or maybe it is that you have to start at the beginning, trying to explain something. Is the TV show “Friends” what life is like in America? Are families very traditional or more open? How do you answer questions like that? I really am a “representative of all Americans” -even though I know that I am some crazy kind of a representative. When you know 500 people that are all very different, how can you lump them all together into one vague generalization?

Much as my students may like me, mostly they like me because I am foreign and fascinating, a little weird and very white. While discussing cultural differences is interesting and enlightening, often I think both sides come away thinking, “Wow, we are so different…” Even the complements – “You are so beautiful…Your skin is so white…You are very adventurous” – are all just because I am different. One guy even told me, “Your eyes are like the sky,” which is probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard since my eyes are brownish-green. Umm, a tornado sky…?

Tonight my students complimented me on a green skirt I wore this week. “We all talked about how much we liked it.” Another student, who I had only met one other time, chimed in and said, “Oh yes! I saw you wearing that skirt too, and it was very beautiful.” I don’t know…it still weirds me out a little that my students discuss what I wear and that everywhere I go, random strangers are noticing my clothes, my hair, my shoes... Students say things like, “You are thinner than last semester,” or looking at pictures, “I think you are prettier now.” I’m not really sure how to take things like that. Just when I think I am feeling at home in the culture, I remember that I am still uncomfortable with the spotlight. I wonder if we’ll ever really connect, and I get a little disheartened when I think about starting the process all over again with new freshmen in the fall. Oh, it’s been good. I will miss my students and friends. Tonight though, I am just tired.

Salad Barring

Last weekend Christina and I went to Pizza Hut. Other than McDonald’s and KFC, Pizza Hut is about the only western food in town. It costs 5-10 times as much as a normal Chinese meal (the prices are pretty similar to the US), so it’s usually reserved for special occasions like birthdays. But on Saturday night the Brennans were gone to Beijing (probably eating yummy Mexican food) and the Hanings were having a special date night, so Christina and I decided to have our own date night.

Pizza Hut is right in the center of town and pretty much fine dining, so it’s usually really crowded on the weekends with the upper-class Chinese crowd. We were surprised to find it not very crowded at all, and while we were waiting for our takeout, we had the bench all to ourselves. We waited and watched the salad bar.

Watching people at a Chinese salad bar is always interesting. If you have never seen a salad bar in China, let me explain. First of all, the salad bar is mostly fruit and Thousand Island dressing, since an “American” salad consists of a little bit of shredded iceberg, a few shredded carrots, and one or two cherry tomatoes, all doused in Thousand Island dressing. Do you see why I’m excited about eating salad this summer?

If you order a salad bar (only found at Westernish restaurants), you are given one small bowl, about the size of a flattened McDonald’s hamburger and one trip to get your money’s worth. This one-trip rule is the reason for the birth of Chinese salad art. People spend twice as long as we would think necessary at the salad bar carefully piling up fruits and vegetables one on top of another in a precarious mound that is twice as tall as the actual bowl. Salad-barring is a skill.

On Saturday at Pizza Hut, the lady at the salad bar had this skill down to a science. First, she brought her dinner plate over to use as a prep plate. She piled the plate high with pineapple and carefully arranged the pieces around the edge of the bowl to form a wall. She kept digging out more and more pineapple, making the wall two layers high and reinforcing the cracks. The wall was twice as big as the bowl. Along the top of the wall she placed a layer of thinly sliced cucumbers. After about five minutes of working on this, she started meticulously filling the inside of her now double-sized bowl, one piece at a time. I could swear she was packing down the fruit like one packs brown sugar before measuring.

The Pizza Hut workers kept walking by and watching her, but they didn’t say anything. They are used to the salad art. They could complain about two trips to the salad bar, but not about one trip with salad art. We had to leave before she was finished. She had been at it almost ten minutes and would probably be at it at least that much longer. I’m pretty sure she got her money’s worth. I hope she didn’t drop it on the way back to her table.

(I was trying to get a picture, but I couldn't get it to turn out very well. If you look closely, the big, yellow mound in the center is her pineapple wall.)

And the Streets are Paved with Cheese

So yes, ladies and gentlemen, exactly 30 days from today I will be back in America. Woah! While I am looking forward to a lot of big things like being home with my family, getting to see my friends again, and hanging out in Chicago, there are a number of small things that excite me too, like...

- The cereal aisle at the grocery store
- Playing my harp
- TP in the bathrooms
- Free water
- Ridiculously large drinks
- …with ice
- …and free refills
- Driving a car
- Houses with yards
- Restaurants that aren’t Pizza Hut and McDonalds
- Sharp cheddar cheese
- Cherry coke
- Salad
- Good bread
- Mexican food
- Okay, I could go on and on about this food thing…
- Hearing some really good Southern drawl
- Talking to the cashier and the waiter and the bag-boy and anyone I feel like
- Listening in on other people’s conversations
- Libraries and bookstores
- People of all different races and ethnicities
- Beds that don’t resemble planks
- Couches that don’t resemble planks
- Walking outside barefoot
- Outside being so clean that you can walk inside with shoes on
- All kinds of good coffee
- Underground sewage
- Fresh air that even smells healthy
- Crickets, tree-frogs, and lightening bugs
- Abundant sarcasm
- American-sized clothing
- Walking through a store…and nobody noticing
- Watching dumb shows on TV just cause they’re in English
- Country radio stations


Things I sure won’t miss while I’m gone:
- The loudspeakers
- Spitting and emptying of noses on the sidewalks
- Public nose picking
- The pointing, staring, and yelling of “Nice to meet you”
- People peering into my cart at the store
- A billion freakishly skinny people
- Dust, dirtiness, and red skies
- The smell of Stinky River
- The constant noise


Things I will miss about China:
- Bike riding…oh wait, I don’t have a bike anymore…
- My plants, which will die
- Rice. Seriously, I love it.
- My students (anyway, most of them)
- The new collapsing giraffe toy I just bought
- Walking and biking everywhere
- A world stock-full of people
- Talking about the weird hair of the person next to you and knowing they can’t understand
- Christina telling what people are saying about us without them knowing she understands
- Little kids who stare at you like they’ve just seen superman.
- Being able to eat out for less than a dollar

A Good China Day

20 Reasons today was a good day:
- My freshmen gave really impressive persuasive speeches.
- Tomorrow morning I teach my favorite freshmen. (Shh, don’t tell that I have a favorite)
- Several former students, who I hadn’t seen in a few weeks, I saw 3 times today.
- Logan was looking exceptionally cute and laughing a lot.
- I got my lesson planned for tomorrow.
- The weather is warm, quite warm, and sunny.
- The loudspeaker nearest my apartment is broken again – finally!
- I only have four more classes of teaching my...not so favorite students.
- The campus copy man practiced speaking to me in English. I love our little copy family, and they love us because we make tons of copies!
- I got an exceptional number of stares on the way to the supermarket, but they didn’t seem unfriendly or angry.
- I discovered pasta at the supermarket.
- I bought juicy, purple plums.
- I saw a shirt that said “Juicy American.” I’m going to have to buy one.
- A man on the bus wearing a yellow construction hat smiled through three stops. Most people don’t smile that much.
- I made banana bread.
- While listening to Sara Evans' "Real Fine Place" that I borrowed from Corrine.
- I am re-reading Till We Have Faces for about the 7th time.
- I have kept two plants alive for almost two months.
- In 33 days I will be flying back to America.
- For no particular reason, I’m just in a good mood…

Weird

Corrine and I were talking about what it will be like to be home this summer. To see people we haven't seen in a while. People who have moved or gotten married or bought houses or maybe haven't changed that much at all. It will be weird. I think we'll realize how different our lives are. Right now it doesn't seem so different. Except that I guess most people can actually talk to the people around them.

We remembered back to the beginning of a year when we arrived in a daze. We looked around thinking, 'Oh my gosh, I live in China.' We wondered when it would become normal and routine.
It struck me that what is weird now is not that I live in China, but that everyone else doesn't...

Random Thoughts About...

Dishwashing
I have had dishes piled up on my counter for 4 days how. Everyone, be impressed. I have this particular OCD behavior related to dishwashing. I’ve been working on that. My teammates are both impressed and disgusted (that I have to force myself not to wash dishes…) I am disturbed though, that the water in my kitchen sink is coming out warm. I don’t get warm water to my sink. I wonder where this water is coming from, as I stare out at the warm, murky waters of Stinky River.

Centipedes
Last night I saw a huge (well, at least 2 inches), black, furry centipede on my bathroom wall. Or is it a millipede? Who knows the difference. It had a ridiculous number of long legs. When I smashed it with a shoe it still tried to run away. It ended up splattered all over the floor. Gross. So gross. What if there’s more? I hear that some are poisonous. It would be so…meaningless to be killed by a centipede.

Chinese Language
We found out that we are going to have a final exam in our Chinese class. I think we would have freaked out if it hadn’t seemed so surreal. What happens if we fail? Will they kick us out of class. Either they will have ridiculously low standards (“Say thank you in Chinese”) or I will fail. I’m doomed.
In fact, I seemed to be entirely doomed when it comes to Chinese. I am bad at Chinese. So I think, I should study more Chinese. But there is this strange natural response to avoid things that you’re really bad at. I find myself avoiding studying Chinese at all costs. So I’m still bad at Chinese.

Crazy-Exploding Flower Torches
Last week was Logan’s first birthday, so he had two big parties to accommodate everyone who wanted to come. Our school Foreign Affairs Officials came to the second. They brought a Chinese cake and a special Chinese flower-candle. I guess it would be called a candle. Here’s how it works.
Light eight little candles around the outside petals.
Candles light big torch in middle.
Flower petals burst open and torch shoots up 6 inch flame.
Flower starts squealing Happy Birthday.
Flower starts melting and drops burning pieces onto cake.
Candles are quickly blown out.
Flower is disassembled to stop incessant squealing of “Happy Birthday.”
You want to know what modern Chinese culture values? Crazy-exploding flower-torch has the answer. The louder, pinker (did I mention it was pink?), tackier, shriller, more combustible an item is, the better.

Okay, off to study some Chinese. Really, I am. And those dishes I was talking about? Yeah, I already washed them. I couldn't help it. I'm so much happier now.

Zilda's Wilmart Adventures

Written by Zilda
[This is a true story. Names have been changed to protect the privacy of involved people and shopping centers.]

Once upon a time a mom (we’ll call her Zilda) wanted to get cold medicine and allergy stuff for her daughter, so she went to “WilMart.” At WilMart, Zilda found pills of Tylenol Sinus Nighttime, so she put that in her cart. There was no nighttime cold medicine (for coughs, too) except for the yucky lemon stuff. (Editor’s note: yucky lemon stuff makes daughter feel even sicker.) Then Zilda got 2 cards for Claritin-D and took them to the Pharmacy. Since Claritin-D contains sudafed which some people buy in large quantities so they can make meth, Claritin-D is kept behind the counter.

When Zilda handed the lady (we’ll call her Wilhelmina) her cards, Wilhelmina says she had to have her driver's license and put her into the computer. Then Wilhelmina, sounding like she is talking to a naughty student, said, "Oh, you can only buy one box!" Zilda replied, "But I want to send these to my daughter in [an unnamed east-Asian country], and I need more than one box." The scornful Wilhelmina says, "They will only let you get one box!" (Who is they???) Zilda says, "Okay, give me one box; I'll go somewhere else and get another." Wilhelmina is horrified! "No! Your license number is in the computer system. You will not be able to buy more today."

Zilda started to wonder if Wilhelmina was going to call the police and report a potential meth dealer. Wilhelmina looked at Zilda for a while and finally said, "Maybe your husband can buy some using his driver's license." Zilda explained that she wanted to have it in the mail in 30 minutes so it would start its long trip to [unnamed east-Asian country]. Wilhelmina had no sympathy.

But -- ah ha! Zilda did not give up easily. She went to “CVF” Pharmacy. There she found a box of Claritin-D on the shelf. She also found some Nyquil that looked like a possibility for cough/cold symptoms. Zilda quickly went to the front of the store. The lady (we’ll call her poor Dora) started to check her out and the computer system locked up! Meanwhile the line gets very long. Poor Dora gets a register working and quickly checks out Zilda and doesn't even ask for her driver's license since the computer is messed up. Ho Ho Ho. Zilda wins again!

Note from the Author: It takes something like 30-60 boxes of straight sudafed to make a small batch of meth. Do they think I am going to separate the D from the Clartin?????
Moral of story: plan ahead for allergies and colds. Stock up!

Worth It All

The last time I went through a period of really bad depression was in college. It was a rough time for both my roommate and I, and we kept this song on repeat for about a year. It gave us something to cling to, and I think it got us through. Once again, I don’t understand, and praise seems almost impossible, almost ludicrous. But this is all I have to believe in – that it will be worth it all.

I don’t understand your ways
But I will give you my song
And I’ll give you all of my praise.

You hold on to all my pain
And with it you are pulling me closer
Pulling me into your ways

Now around every corner
And up every mountain
I’m not looking for crowns anymore
Or the water from fountains
I’m desperate in seeking
Frantic, believing
The sight of your face
Is all that I’m needing…I will say to you

It’s gonna be worth it
It’s gonna be worth it
It’s gonna be worth it all.

Not Just a Victim

I can’t say I’m just an innocent victim in all of this. That is how I like to think of myself, to dodge any responsibility. But I know that my rebellion, anger, and selfish pride have brought me down, and my unwillingness to admit their existence has kept me in darkness. The Israelites, wandering in the desert were not blameless. They were angry and bitter and rebellious as well. They could not leave the desert because they were not willing to leave. No, their stay in the desert was not a result of cruelty or punishment. It was a result of their own unwillingness to be led. If they would not acknowledge their Leader in the desert, how could they follow him out of the desert to victory in the promise land? They were finally led into the promise land not because they had perfected themselves but because they were finally willing to follow. And so, with much failing and faltering and many small victories, they gained possession of the land.

A Grown-up Six Year-old

When I am teaching or around other adults, I usually feel pretty young. But sometimes I have these really adult sort of moments, the kind that would have perplexed and disappointed the six year old that I once was. I was determined to stay young and play with toys forever, never sitting around having hour long conversations (what is there to talk about for so long anyway?). Not only did I fail to meet my childhood dream of living with Jessica Davis on a horse farm, I have become a boring adult at only (almost) twenty-three.
Evidence: Today I bought shelves for my kitchen, and I was really excited. I opened them and put them together as soon as I got home, then I spent the whole afternoon cleaning and organizing and rearranging my kitchen. And I had fun. It was the same thrill as building forts in the backyard or dressing up Barbies or escaping from an evil stepmother in the middle of a raging hurricane (with probably a war, a fire, and a daring horse-race thrown in for good measure).
It’s moments like those, or when I exchange recipes with my friends, or basically every time I buy vegetables, that I really wonder when I stopped being six.

The Wilderness

It always seemed a bit cruel to me that the Israelites had to wander around in the wilderness for 40 years. What a miserable waste of time. Was this some kind of a punishment for something they had done? Maybe because they didn’t have enough faith or they complained too much so God got mad and left them in the desert. I’ve heard it told that way. It would be justified after all; justified, but still cruel.

I just thought of it in a different way, though. The Israelites had been slaves for hundreds of years, and perhaps they just weren’t yet ready for the promise land. People rarely get over the slavery-mindset overnight. If they entered the promise land still thinking of themselves as slaves, still acting like slaves, how could they ever live freely?

Sure, the Israelites did a lot of things wrong in the desert. They grumbled and felt bad for themselves. They built idols. They refused to trust. It can’t have been fun, battling the scorching sun by day and shivering through the cold nights. Rarely finding relief of water or shade. Wondering why they had left Egypt if this was all they had to look forward to. Almost giving up hope of a different kind of life. But I don’t think those forty years were useless punishment. I think it was a time of preparation.

Through all the trials they were strengthened. They entered the desert as a group of fleeing slaves and left as a nation of people. Everything that was not pure was weeded out and only what was good remained. They were strong enough to trust in a Leader that would conquer everyone who stood between them and the promise land. They were ready to set up their own country and to enjoy the benefits of the land.

I guess we all find ourselves in the wilderness at times. Maybe we find ourselves there over and over again, and wonder what in the world we are doing wrong. Maybe we feel like we are lost and just wandering uselessly, looking for direction. Maybe we feel empty and forsaken and hopeless. We’ve left Egypt behind, but what good did that do? We hear about the promise land and wonder why we can’t get there.

Everyone goes through different kinds of wilderness. Right now my wilderness is depression. I keep wondering what I’ve done wrong to get here - and to have to stay here for so long. It’s hard not to think of depression as a character flaw. People who are depressed tend to think it is somehow their fault. People who aren’t depressed tend to give all kind of well-intentioned advice—think positive thoughts, get enough sleep, don’t sleep too much, spend time with other people, exercise, eat the right food. All of these things may be good, but they also imply that if you were just doing all the right things, you’d stop being depressed. That seems kind of cruel, like depression is your just punishment for not doing the right things.

Maybe it’s not what I’m doing wrong. Maybe it’s just that I’m not ready. It sure isn’t fun (miserable is more the word I would think of), but I have to remember it’s not just wasted time. I have to ask questions before I can find truth. I have to recognize my brokenness before I can find healing. I have to give up slavery before I can realize I am free. If I can remember that this heat is only refinement by the sunlight, that in the darkness of night I am slowly being transformed into a new person—maybe then my forty years won’t seem so long. I can remember the promise land, not as a shattered dream but as a hope yet unseen. This desert is just part of the journey.

Loneliness

I realized that my nearest friend is 3 and ½ hours away. The others are hundreds or thousands and thousands of miles away. Most of them I will see once a year. With my teacher friends I am lucky – I see them twice a year. Imagine not having any friends in the same town or even the same state as you.

I have my team, it’s true. They can be friends, but they are more like family. When you live with people all the time, sometimes you get tired of seeing the same six faces. I mean, I always like to see Logan, but you can’t really talk to him. Imagine not seeing anyone outside your family.

Of course I am beginning to find Chinese friends. It is such a slow process. Becoming friends, real friends, with a person takes time anyway, and it seems to take twice as long when you misunderstand half of what the other is trying to say. Those moments of connection, of feeling like you’re on the same ground, are very few. I miss being able to laugh and talk without considering every word. I miss not having to explain what cereal is, why I like candles in my house, and the wonder of being able to drive a car. I miss people who know me, or at least understand a little bit of where I’m coming from.

I have students that I like seeing and spending time with. They want to be friends. Mostly our times are question and answer fire-back, trying to understand the oddities of each other’s culture and ideas. The other day one of my students came over to ask for advice about a situation. We had a real back-and-forth conversation for about half an hour, and that was enjoyable. I was happy that she trusted me and would want to come to me. But with my students, I am always still their teacher. There is always a distance, with them looking up to me, regardless of the fact that I’m barely older than they.

Anyway, I spend probably ¾ of my life alone (and standing up in front of a classroom is hardly “hanging out” with others). I can’t talk to my co-workers beyond two minute “Hi, how are you” interactions on the stairs. I can stay in my apartment and be alone by myself, or I can go out and be alone with hundreds of other people (many of whom are staring and pointing at me). I like having my own apartment, but I get tired of talking to myself or to my dying plant Leo.

When I was with the other teachers in Thailand, we realized we had kind of forgotten how to carry on normal conversation. We just sat around waiting for someone to fire questions at us. We kept forgetting words we wanted to say.

I have gained new friends, in that I now know people all across China. I have become almost closer to some of my friends back home because of all the year has brought us through. But e-mail gets lame. I’m tired of having to schedule a phone conversation a week ahead of time. I wish that I could show up at a friend’s house. I wish I could go out to dinner or for coffee or just go to Walmart with friends! I wish I could say, “Hey, come over. I need you.”

You don't have to feel all bad for me. I did choose this. I'm just letting you know how it is.

Wuhu

This weekend about half of the team went to Wuhu (yes, pronounced like “woohoo”), a city about 3 and ½ hours away. Some of the people from our region (the three provinces close by) were getting together just to hang out. It was really good to get away for a couple of days, to go outside the realm of where your bicycle or the city bus can take you. The weekend included…
- Train ride to Wuhu Friday night. I still like trains, although shorter is definitely better in China.
- Hanging out in big, comfy arm chairs (I didn’t know they made that kind in China!)
- Meeting Charlie, the spastic cat.
- Bisquick waffles and Starbucks coffee.
- Half a dozen games of Catch Phrase.
- Climbing across a mini-mountain to get to the amusement park on the other side.
- Bumper cars, ferris wheel, a bungee catapult thing, and other spinning rides. Some people are concerned about those shopping-center amusement parks in America. Haha. The squeaking and shaking and rustiness and lack of any real safety precautions are all part of the adventure.
- Amazingly relaxing hair-wash/head massages.
- Riding on the back of a motorcycle taxi. I can’t believe we don’t have those in Yangzhou!
- Spending time with some region-mates, like Tre, my Southern friend, Tina, one of the sweetest people I know, and Sherri, one of the craziest people over six that I know.
- Watching “Nanny McFee” – which was quite enjoyable. A little bit like Mary Poppins with a twist (and seven really cute British kids).
- Sharing Tre’s foam-padded bed. Yes, this was a highlight. It was actually soft!
- Fellowship time of singing and lifting up the things happening at our various schools.
- Korean BBQ
- Stocking up on pasta and candles at the new Wuhu Walmart. It didn’t have too much special, but they just cut out the pasta supply in Yangzhou, much to our sadness.
- 3 hour really rough bus ride home, swerving over bumpy Anhui roads. I still like trains.

No Break for You!

In just a few weeks, inspectors are coming to evaluate the English department at our school. It’s a big deal – the higher the rating the more money the school gets and the better the students who will want to come. So the department has been preparing all semester. They reduced all the class sizes to 30 (rumor is, it will change back next semester). The sophomores have been loaded up with extra classes in every spare moment since they will be doing some sort of performances for the inspectors. The teachers are teaching the extra classes (not us, but the Chinese teachers) on nights and even weekends. Some classes for inspector week are even scripted and practiced beforehand. It just doesn’t make sense to me. It’s like a big show, and then everything goes back to normal.

And my freshmen just found out that they don’t get May Holiday. The week-long holiday is most similar to Spring Break, right about the middle of the semester. It’s different though, because the whole country has holiday at the same time – students, workers, everyone. Only this year, English department students (and English department teachers – once again, fortunately not the foreigners) are told they have to stay here for extra classes.

The freshmen have been talking about May Holiday for a good month. They have been looking forward to visiting their families all semester. I feel quite bad for them. Can you imagine if that happened in America? A week and a half before Spring Break a school suddenly said – sorry guys, it’s cancelled. Mutiny – that is what would ensue. It’s just baffling, how they can do that.

Trying

It's been an interesting time lately. I can't really figure out my own words to try to explain it, but I think this lifehouse song expresses it pretty well.

Could you let down your hair be transparent for a while
Just a little while
To see if you're human, after all
Honesty is hard attribute to find
When we all want to seem like
We've got it all figured out
Let me be first to say that I don't have a clue
I don't have all the answers
Ain't gonna pretend like I do

Just trying
to find my way
Trying
to find my way
The best that I know how

Well I haven't memorized all of the cute things to say
But I'm working on it
Maybe I'll master this artform someday
If I quote all the lines off the top of my head
Would you believe
That I fully understand all these things I've read

I'm just trying
to find my way
Trying
to find my way
Trying
to find my way
The best that I know how

Well, I haven't got it all figured out quite yet
But, even if it takes my whole life
To get to where I need to be
If I should fall to the bottom of the end
I'll be one step back to you and

Trying
to find my way
Trying
to find my way

Migraines

So I was thinking about migraines, and here is my conclusion. Chinese must be either immune to migraines or they must get the worst migraines ever. China kind of strikes me as a migraine breeding ground. China is probably as bad for migraines as Atlanta in springtime, with its deathly pollen counts, is for asthma.

For one thing, there’s the noise. Noise seems to be an integral part of Chinese society. Partly because there are millions of people in any given small area. Partly because everything just seems to be noisy. Noise is used for advertisement. The bicycle-cart guys who pass behind our apartments a dozen times a day bang on pots, clang bells, or chant into their loudspeakers to summon people out of their homes. The more “high-tech” ones may even play a loud, shrill tune, usually something inappropriate like “Happy Birthday” or “Jingle Bells.” If you pass by a clothing store while riding through town, the music blaring into the street is often loud enough to cease any attempts at conversation. This past weekend, the campus store (which is approximately 1000 feet from our apartments) was promoting some kind of items with hours of karaoke blasting over campus.

And of course living on a university campus is loud. The students pass just beneath our windows in masses from about 6:30am-11pm. Either our walls are really thin or they yell a lot. Probably both. One guy in the dormitory directly across from our apartments has decided to yell at the top of his lungs every night at 11pm when the lights are cut off in the dormitories. He does not realize that he is the object of many a malicious thought. And then there are the loudspeaker announcements and music three times a day. I had gotten so used to it I hardly even heard it anymore. Then they installed a new loudspeaker. 6:30am - 11:30am - 5:00pm. There’s no avoiding it.

People themselves are just loud. I’m still a little confused about the stereotype of the loud American and the reserved Chinese. Chinese restaurants are some of the loudest places I’ve been. People walk by or ride around on their bicycles singing loudly to themselves. Apparently at one time cell phone connections were very bad and people had to yell to be understood. The connections are fine now, but people still yell just out of principle. Coming back from class the other day on the teacher’s bus, I was getting a migraine. The bus driver was yelling, literally yelling, into his cell phone while laying on the horn and screeching the brakes. I was not very happy at that moment.

If the noise doesn’t get you, the MSG laden food probably will. Either that or unavoidable smoking. I don’t mean to sound horribly negative. I can’t say I’m exaggerating anything I said, but most of the time it doesn’t bother me too much. Fortunately, I don’t get too bad of migraines. And who knows, maybe living in China I will help me to build up a resistance to them. Maybe I’ll develop immunity too. For the moment, I’m just really grateful for the Excedrin reinforcements from my mom.

[Case in point: this morning, when I was needlessly awake at 5am, I heard a man ride by singing loudly. Seriously, who sings at five o’clock in the morning?]

Seeking

It’s interesting how we go forth trying to save the world. Maybe it’s the arrogance of youth, an arrogance which seems to pervade the social fabric of our young nation. In one way or another, with war or peace, with words or deeds, we want to bring our knowledge and values and perspectives to the world. We’ve never quite recovered from the “manifest destiny” mindset.

I wanted to save the world. Who doesn’t? That’s what we’re trained to do from childhood – get smarter and stronger and more able so that we have something to offer. We think of service as standing over someone giving them something they need. So long as we are in the position of strength and they (whoever we want to serve) are in the position of meek acceptance, we feel successful. Interesting how we twist around the idea of service to meet the needs of our egos.

I say “we” in all of this. I know that these thoughts and ideas are in me, and I don’t think I’m smart enough to come up with them on my own. I think they are ideas I’ve acquired from 22 years of living with other people. Maybe you aren’t included in the “we.” Maybe you’ve already figured all this out. No, actually I don’t think so. I know that you’re human and you don’t have all the answers either.

I left America sure of what I believed, eager to show the rest of the world how right I was. I know the things which are important, I thought. I just need to enlighten the rest of the world.

And then I realized, am realizing, slowly, that I may not be right. I may not know the things which are important. I’m not so sure of what I believe. I need to be enlightened.

At this point, maybe you are getting nervous. You don’t like uncertainty. Too much questioning leaves you on shaky ground. You are afraid I am rejecting what is right and what is wrong. I am becoming “post-modern,” or “relativistic,” or something equally horrible. You say, “You went to China to influence others, not for them to influence you.”

Do you have so little faith in seeking? I do believe there is Truth. But I don’t believe I have a perfect grasp on it. There are parts of the truth which I can see that my Chinese friend cannot. There are parts of the truth which my Chinese friend can see that I cannot. I am both enlightened and blinded by my background, education, family, society, and culture. I don’t want to sit back in arrogant contentment, unwilling to widen my narrow perspective on the world.

If I seek, I will find Truth. Isn't that a promise? If I seek with my Chinese friends, perhaps we will find Truth together.

Birthday Party

Two weeks ago: My student asked me to come to his birthday party. This student, one of my English name failures, used to be Kucdy and now is Biby. Sometimes you just can’t win.

This week: On one of his rare appearances in class, he asked once again if I would be able to come. “I will call you on Friday,” he said.

Thursday, 10:00pm: Biby called to say that he would call tomorrow at 4pm to say he was leaving Guang Ling campus and coming to pick me up.

Friday, 10:00am: He called to say that he would call today at 4pm to say he was leaving Guang Ling campus and coming to pick me up. Amnesia?

3:15pm: [Telephone conversation]
Biby: Hello, I am at the north gate.
Me (in the middle of mopping my floor): Oh, ummm, you’re there right now?
Biby: Yes, are you ready? Can you come meet me?
Me: I thought you said 4. I was not expecting you to be here yet.
Biby: No, I am here now. Are you free?
Me: Well, I'm in the middle of something right now. Maybe I could be ready in 15 or 20 minutes.
Biby: Ok. I will call you back.

3:40pm: Biby calls back, and I go to meet him at the gate. He is waiting with his new girlfriend and another friend, neither of whom speak English. Biby says, “We will walk to the restaurant. It is not far from here.”

4:30: We arrive at the restaurant (a 45 minute walk) to wait for everyone else to arrive. Biby brings me two cokes and ice cream. Long wait, I’m guessing.

5:30: The other guests start to arrive, some of them classmates, some other friends that I don’t know. I am seated next to one of my students who “has the best English” and is my designated caretaker for the evening.

6:00: The first round of drinks are served. This is important and takes a lot of talking and arguing. Drinking is an important show of manliness, and the “best drinkers” are held in high esteem. Some of the guys don’t really like to drink, but they would lose face if they don’t. From here on out the night is a string of toasts (the central part of any banquet or party) which serves as a competition to see who can drink the most.

The party was mainly guys – there were 4 girls and probably 18 guys. The guys smoked and attempted to down the alcohol while the girls wrinkled their noses and sipped their beer. But I guess there needed to be some girls to show off for. It was okay for me not to drink since I’m a girl. I imagine it would be quite difficult for a guy.

My caretaker translated and explained everything that happened, put food on my plate (a way of showing respect to guests), and apologized for the behavior of his classmates.

7:00pm: As the food dwindled, the room got louder and smokier. The guys around me kept confessing, “I feel faint. I don’t want to drink any more.” They could admit it to me because I was a “outside” person, but after saying it they felt obligated to fill their glasses and make another toast so as not to appear weak. They bragged, showed off their “hip-hop” dance moves, and made a show of draining their glasses. The girls just sat watching and laughing and holding their boyfriend’s cigarettes, acting almost demure. A Chinese girl is supposed to be gentle and quiet and useful. I can’t see that going over so well in America, thank goodness.

8:00pm: After the cake was served, my caretaker suggested that maybe I was ready to go home. The meal was over and even the drinking was slowing down. The guys were now busy with an icing fight. I agreed to leave, as much for my student, who needed an escape from the drinking contests, as for myself. Of course, it had been over 4 hours, and even without drinking I was tired.

I hadn’t really been looking forward to the party, but it really wasn’t bad. It was kind of funny, and it’s interesting to see students outside of class. It reminds me that they have a real life and all kinds of real problems and pressures they face. In some ways they seem like kids still, making a show of impressing their peers but willing to admit to an outsider their desire for guidance and purpose. You can learn a lot just from watching people. And I have to say, China is great for people watching.

Shadows

Sometimes we find ourselves in the shadows. In a shadow the world is not changed, only it looks darker, and it becomes harder to see the sun. Sometimes we stumble, lost in a cloud and wondering if we will ever find our way out. We see only darkness and feel a chill sink into our being. We hear voices that have no faces. We remember the shadow of death, the darkness of despair, and the depth of the long night. We are afraid.

But hopefully we are given grace to realize that this is not all we find in the shadow. Peter, James and John found themselves surrounded by a cloud, and they were also afraid. But they heard a voice that said, “Do not be afraid,” and when they looked up, the saw only One (Mtt 17). The cloud was not darkness and storm but the presence of glory.

Let us remember the shadow of His wings (Ps 34), the shade of the apple tree (Ss 2:3), the cloud on the mountain (Ex 24:15), the shadow of a great rock in the desert (Is 32:2).

“Let us not be afraid of the shadows. Let us not be afraid of the clouds. We often meet Him in thick clouds. The shadow is the shadow of our Beloved. He is very near to the place where His shadow is” (Amy Carmichael).

This is why, though still in the shadow, we can sing.

Windy Season

Spring is the windy season in Yangzhou. Last night I had just gone to bed when the wind started up. I gave up trying to sleep and opened the window over my bed to look out.

Outside my window, the guy’s dormitory stands about 100 feet away with a road in the middle. The space between the buildings became a tunnel, sucking air through in deep gasps. The wind hissed and screamed around the buildings. Though the night was dark, the noise was as loud as daytime. The wind tore at the banners and signs outside the dormitory, whipping them loose. Metal crashed as bicycles fell on top of each other. Papers and trash flew past one direction then were swept back in another, swirling up into the air, hitting the ground, and being lifted away again. The young trees wrestled with the wind and gave way with a bow.

The electricity in the dorms had been off for about half an hour, but the guys were still awake and came out yelling and calling to each other. They scrambled to rescue their clothes hung out to dry that were quickly being swept off the hangers and off into the night. They stood on their balconies, shivering in their pajamas, reveling in the brilliant display of power.

Insightful Grading

I also was looking through some homework where students wrote about how they have changed since senior school. Some were surprisingly insightful.

Some students talked about the new freedoms and responsibilities they now have.

“When I was in senior school, I didn’t know what’s the meaning of “do it
yourself,” because my mother always helped me to do everything except
study. But now, I’ve learned how to wash clothes, clean house, and take
care of myself.”

“I can spend my time more freely. Maybe sometimes I will do something my parents forbid me to do. Because I’m now far away from home. They have no idea about what I’m doing. But I
never mean to hurt them. I love them.”

Many talked about the difficulties of life in senior school.

“In high school, I worked very hard and nearly everyday stayed late for the
lessons. So in the daytime I always went to sleep. Although I knew
that was no efficient, I worried about my lessons. I couldn’t sleep until
midnight. At that time, I felt nervous everyday. I was afraid that I
couldn’t go to a good university. In my free time, I always thought that I
had no interested in anything and was thinking about study, study…”

“I began to work harder for every day we had a lot of homework to do. I began to eat less because I was afraid of being fatter and fatter without chances to do sports. I began to talk less in order to save time, and I began to think my future frequently. That was the hardest
time of my life.”

“Since I was in senior school, my life has changed a lot. For instance, my parents took more care of my studies than ever. They often went to school and communicated with my teachers.
They encouraged me to study hard so that I could go to my ideal college. I
felt nervous all the time. Unfortunately we almost did examinations every
class and every teacher forced us to do their homeworks at the first.
Although we all knew they were good for us, we really needed having a
rest. After all we weren’t robots.
On the other hand, I went home once a month. I missed my parents very much so that I often cried after class. Because my classmates and I often were busy doing homeworks
we were lack of chatting so that our friendship was not good. When I was
at home, my parents didn’t let me watch TV, play with friends and go
shopping. What a pity! Above all, because I did homeworks all the
time, my eyesight was bad. In a word, the life wasn’t good.”

They talked about the things they have learned in university, particularly about how to relate to other people.

“I find the relation between the persons is complex. Maybe we have more
free time to think more. My changes are not the appearance, they are the
minds. I know how to learn from everyone. The others’ advantages and
good things for me to learn, the others’ disadvantages are like a mirror
for me, I can find my own disadvantages.”

“Maybe everyone is selfish and has his or her own personality. Of course I will not like some
kinds of these personalities. I used to go away or keep a distance with such a person. But I know I’m wrong. Everyone has his or her advantages. I must be tolerant and humble.”

A few talked about a vague discontentment or restlessness.

“When I was a high school students, I had many friends…But after I
entered the university, I felt a strong pressure. True friends are fewer and
fewer. I think it’s a pity. Maybe we are grown up, so we can’t communicate with
others so easily.”

“In my senior school, I lived very happy. But since I entered college, I feel lonely. I have too much free time, and if I do the same things every day, I feel boring. Friends are not very care of me as my senior school’s friends, but teachers are friendly. So I want to communicate with
classmates and teachers more.”

“…But there is something bother me. I felt very vacant. I can’t make good use of the most time. We hang around in the campus. There are so little interesting and meaningful activities. Maybe it’s my own fault. I pay little interest in them. Sometimes I think I have been lost in
the forest. I can’t make up my mind to decide which way I can choose and get out
of the forest and see the hope.”

Humorous Grading

I graded about 240 quizzes this week. It was both depressing and hilarious. Depressing, because a lot of the students did really bad. Hilarious because they were very creative in doing so. Often without trying to be. For example…

In class we had talked about some of the different words used to describe dating and love, so I said:
Use the word “crush” in a sentence to show its meaning.

“If you meet with someone you don’t know, and he makes you angry, you can give him a crush.”
“The eggs was crushed when it falls down.”
“A thief ran out of a car and jumped into the crush.”
“If I go to play when I haven’t finished my homework, my parents will crush me.”
“Usually, you go broad, you will find your own country’s culture are crush with foreign country.”

We also talked about childhood and families in China and America. One quiz item said:
Use the word “sibling” in a sentence to show its meaning.

“The girls and the guys in our class are all sibling.” (Yikes, I hope
not!)
“Mother and father sibling their children’s curfew strictly.”
“I don’t know what does the word sibling mean.” (Nice try, but no candy.)
“I’m hankering to have a sibling with me.” (Correct meaning and he actually
used the word “hankering” in his answer! There’s got to be extra credit in
there somewhere.)

Preparations

This weekend we have invited other teachers from the region come to visit for a kind of Saint Patrick’s Day celebration. We are going to be doing lots of cooking. In preparation I bought:
- 3 heads of broccoli
- 7 carrots
- 6 potatoes
- 2 or 3 dozen eggs
- 10 onions
- 700 grams of butter
- 3 packages of sugar
- 70 paper cups
- 1 package of Magnum bars (Do they have these in the US? They’re amazing…)

I felt very healthy buying all the vegetables (have I ever bought so many at once?) but then all the butter and sugar balanced it out…

And speaking of cooking, I would like to thank my aunt Kay for contributing to the fattening up of Team Yangzhou. Her sweet potato recipe has become a favorite dinner and/or desert item. We will probably all die early of heart attacks, but it will be a happy death. :)

In other news, my cousin just got engaged! In Paris, no less.
Also in the last month, three of my friends that I lived with last year got engaged. Yikes! What's happening in the world? By the time I come back everyone I know is going to be well into their third child or something. But I'm happy and excited for everyone nonetheless.

Stagnant

Stinky River (referring to the canal directly behind our apartment building which welcomes us home with its pungent sewage smell) tends to be a reflection of life. I’ve been thinking about that recently. Some days it is a bright reflection of the world above, giving off an illusion of sunshine and cleanness. Other times, it is disturbed and restless when the wind pushes the water back upstream. Or when it is really cold, it looks blacker than normal.

Today Stinky River is green and stagnant. Not fluorescent green like algae, just a dull greenish-gray, its own reflection of the heavy, gray skies. Small pieces of trash float motionless on the surface. The air is so still that the water doesn’t even ripple, yet the water is too dark to hold a reflection.
Maybe it’s the weather. Maybe it’s the time of year, when the warmth has once again receded into a chilly grayness. Life has settled back in and already become monotonous. It’s only the third week and I am already getting bored with teaching. You know if the teacher is bored, it’s a bad sign. My students come in tired and listless and we all leave much the same.

I know you want my life to be exciting. I live in China for goodness sakes. Something interesting or peculiar has got to happen. But this week, I’m just bored. My to-do list sits untouched, with all its tasks seeming too tedious and insignificant to actually complete. I know. Life is just boring sometimes. I’m just ready for some color. Some life. Some sunshine. Some mental stimulation or creative inspiration. I stare out the window, but Stinky River remains motionless.

Advice from a Chinese Doctor

Today I had the fun experience of going to the hospital for the first time in China. Don’t freak out, I'm not dying – it was really more like the university clinic. I’ve had a cold that seems to have turned infection, and since I’ve been doing all the right things (seriously, I have) and it hasn’t helped, I figured I’d try the antibiotic route.
I asked a student today in class if she would go with me, and of course she was willing. In fact, she brought two classmates along for the fun. We walked to the clinic and then wandered down the hall to find a doctor.
We peered into one room, but no, there was already a patient being examined. After a couple of tries we found a free doctor. Actually, two free doctors, since one examining room can hold two doctors, two patients, and apparently as many onlookers as needed. The doctor spoke a few words of English intermixed with Chinese, which my students eagerly translated…all three of them at the same time. The first thing he said was: “You should wear more layers!’
He asked about symptoms, looked down my throat, and poked a glass thermometer in my mouth. “Five minutes,” he said. Those five minutes were probably the funniest. He kept asking questions, which my students would translate, and of course all I could say was, “mmmhmhm.” He asked if I was allergic to penicillin and then he asked how old I was. My students, horrified, said, “You can’t ask that!” We discussed in class that it is impolite to ask a foreigner their age. If I didn’t have a big thermometer under my tongue, I definitely would be laughing. Finally they gave up asking questions and continued to talk about me in Chinese. Several other patients came in and out in the meantime and joined the discussion.
After asking more questions, and prescribing some medicine, the doctor gave a lot of friendly advice. Wear more layers. Drink hot water (actually I’m drinking lots of it). Your apartment is too warm so you feel cold when you go outside. You should lower the temperature so it is more like outside. You should open your windows to change the air. You should wear more layers. Thank you, doctor. Actually, any random person on the street would have given me the same advice. They probably do every day, I just don’t understand it.
We went back down the hall to pay for the medicine (it was 3.5Y, or less than fifty cents) and then pick up the bagful. In China, they aren’t shy about prescribing pills. The doctor followed, telling me a few more times to wear more layers. I was pretty much the highlight of his day. On the way back one student said, “The doctor was very thorough with you. When I go, it is maybe two minutes. But he asked you lots of questions.” They also said, “Is it okay for a doctor to ask about age?” When we got back to my apartment, they read all the boxes and told me what to take when. And they repeated all the friendly advice in case I missed it the first few times.
The good things are (1) they didn’t try to give me an IV, as I’ve heard they’re fond of. (2) I didn’t have to take off any clothes, which would have been highly awkward. (3) The drugs are all reasonable (I looked them up online). (4) I now have some thick, black, extremely foul-tasting cough syrup. Oh wait, this is the good things.
Ah, fun times. Yes, I am still in a foreign country. “Is what it’s like to go to the doctor in America?” my students asked. Ummm, more or less.

Cabbages, Chickens and Freshmen Homework

I was reading over the homework that my freshmen students turned in, and one of them cracked me up. This is a dialogue about an apology and forgiveness situation.

J: Sarah, my kind neighbor, I'm coming to tell you that, that...
S: Oh, what happened, my good friend? You look so upset!
J: My chicken have eaten up your cabbages. I'm very sorry. It's
my fault. I didn't look after my chicken carefully. Will you forgive
me?
S: Forget it. It's nothing serious.
J: Oh, you are so kind.
S: But I also have one thing to tell you. My dog has just bitten your
chicken. Now your poor chicken and my cabbages are all in my dog's
stomach.

Are you laughing? Who thinks of these things? I love students.

China News

• The Serious...

China Tries to Narrow Urban-Rural Gap (February 23, 2006, The New York Times)
Faced with rising inequality and unrest in the countryside, the Chinese government has formally announced major initiatives to expand health, education and welfare benefits for farmers but left unresolved the fundamental issue of whether farmers should be allowed to buy or sell their land. In recent days, President Hu Jintao and Prime Minister Wen Jiabao have given speeches about the "new socialist countryside" initiative, while the National People's Congress, the Communist Party-controlled legislature, is expected to make the rural program the centerpiece of a new five-year plan during its annual meeting next month. The program, which emerged in broad form last October, includes free education for many rural students, increased subsidy payments for farmers, new government funding for medical care and further government investment in rural infrastructure projects. A specific price tag has not been announced, though rural spending is expected to rise significantly.
Another article from AFP stated these statistics:
The poorest 20 per cent of the urban population received only 2.75 per cent of the total urban income, the key economic planner said in a report. Last year, the National Bureau of Statistics said 10 per cent of the nation's richest people enjoyed 45 per cent of the country's wealth, while the poorest 10 per cent had only 1.4 per cent.

• And the Kinda Funny...

Beijing Tries to ‘Civilize’ Residents Ahead of Olympics (February 20, 2006, AFP)
Beijing will launch a major "civilization" campaign to target spitting, littering and etiquette in an effort to clean up the city's image ahead of the 2008 Olympics. Beijing would set up trash boxes and provide sanitary bags for people to spit into on major streets and step up the enforcement of on-the-spot fines of up to 50 Yuan (six dollars) for spitting elsewhere, the Beijing News said. As part of the campaign, which kicks off next month, more than 4.3 million Beijing families would receive a guide on civilization and etiquette, it said. More "civilization supervisors" would be deployed on public transport as pushing and shoving to get on and off, common in Beijing and other cities, came under scrutiny. Other rude behavior targeted by the campaign included littering and pets fouling the streets, the report said, without giving details of fines or other punishments.

Personal Note: Yes, Beijing could certainly use some trash cans. They don't really exist. It will be interesting to see how this "civilization" campaign really works. Still, when China wants to put on a good face, they get serious about it. I have no doubt that Beijing will be amazing...whatever the costs.

**Retrieved from ZG Briefs (www.zgbriefs.com)

Putonghua

I was excited to find, when reading a recent US News (recent being 2 months ago…) entitled “50 Ways to Improve Your Life in 2006,” that learning Chinese was one of the fifty suggestions. The article says,

To be sure, you shouldn’t expect to pick it up overnight. Chinese is one of the
hardest languages for English speakers to learn. Words are depicted with
pictograms rather than spelled out with an alphabet. And saying a word
using the wrong tone can change its meaning from “mother” to “scold” or “horse.”

Difficult – oh yes. But I’m already on my way to improving my life. On Monday evening I had my first Chinese class of the semester. Our foreign affairs office has arranged a beginning (very-very-beginning) Mandarin class for the foreign teachers on the campus. Two evenings a week after teaching classes I get to sit in a very cold classroom and be a student.

We have met twice and have learned things like “Wo jiao Ruth.” My favorite, if someone asks how you are doing, “Ni hao ma?” you can say, “ma ma tu tu” (so-so). It sounds really funny. Our teacher writes the words in characters so we can become familiar with them and then writes it in pinyin so we can actually read them.

Here is an interesting comment on pinyin (the phonetic spelling of characters). Foreigners who have come to the country since the 17th century have used a variety of spelling systems. The current pinyin system was developed by the communist government in 1933 and was only officially used since 1958. One of my students mentioned she is teaching her mother pinyin. It is my only connection to understanding Chinese, but it is not even known by older generations. Now, people use pinyin on the computer and for text messages. You type in the pinyin and the computer or cell phone converts to the characters. There is concern that the younger generations will lose some of their proficiency in reading and writing characters because of this.

To learn Chinese you have to first learn the pinyin pronunciations. Some are the same as English and some are quite different (q = chee, x = sh, zh = j). And then there are sounds that we just don’t have in English. Each sound can be said with four different tones (high, rising, swooping down and back up, and falling) to have four different meanings. You can say the same word with the wrong tones and no one will understand you. Believe me – I’ve tried it. You can be a relatively fluent speaker of Chinese and still be completely illiterate. The characters are fascinating but are completely unfamiliar. Educated Chinese use between 6000 and 8000 characters, and they basically have to be memorized. Suddenly a 26 letter alphabet seems ridiculously easy. And then you can read Chinese and still not be able to write it. The strokes of each character have to be made in a certain order for it to be correct. In case it needed to be a little more difficult, there are traditional and simplified Characters which, to the untrained eye, look nothing alike. Simplified characters are mostly used in everyday life, and traditional characters are somtimes used on advertisements, signs, or for special announcements, since it looks prettier. They are also used in Hong Kong and Taiwan.

Another note. "Putonghua" refers to standard Mandarin, as opposed to a number of other dialects. Recently in taxis we keep seeing signs that say (in Chinese characters) "Please speak Putonghua." We are always like, "Aw man, that's rough." :)

The encouraging thing about starting from scratch: anything is improvement! I can almost feel my brain straining and expanding. Yep, I’d better be getting smarter.

Note to Father

Father,

My dreams are not wild enough. I am too easily satisfied with the mundane, the moderate, the ordinary. You are a radical Master. You challenge centuries of tradition with greater truth. You would not accept harmony at the price of tolorating evil and injustice. Your love is tough, down-in-the-dirt incarnate, and not entirely pretty. Your love became brokenness, left you eternally scarred. Your truth caused controversy. You showed your power through weakness. Your triumph looked like defeat.
My life is too tame to follow a Master like that. I follow you with moderation, not with wild abandonment. I ask for reasonable requests, perhaps not trusting that you still do the unreasonable and impossible. I love from a distance, still shying away from pain and suffering. You are waiting eagerly, longing jealously, for me to catch the vision. Open my eyes and my heart. Show me what this life was meant to be.

Just to Live

It’s not New Years. But for me, it’s the start of a new semester so it seems like the year is just getting started. I was thinking over the break about all the goals I have for myself this semester. I want to be better, more competent, more successful than last semester. I want to learn more Chinese. I want to spend more time with students. I want to be a “good teacher:” to assess more regularly, plan further ahead in my classes, make every class interactive and interesting, be consistent in classroom management, not take student disinterest personally, make more connections to Chinese culture. I want to make a connection with the copy shop girl so that she doesn’t think I’m stupid and I don’t think she’s rude. I want to plan more for studies, be more intentional in my conversations, mop my floor more often, eat more vegetables, cook a real meal at least once a week, cook food for my students, keep in touch with people, exercise, go to the park, and do all my Wheaton work. With each thought, it gets harder and harder to breathe. How am I going to do all that? I’m always failing to reach my goals.

One of the things I was struggling with during conference was the crazy expectations I place upon myself. We all do that, don’t we? Expect ourselves to be super-human. Except…I finally realized that’s totally the wrong way to look at life. How can I have any joy in life when I think the responsibility for the world rests on my shoulders? Of course I’ll feel like a failure. I want to have it all together all of the time, but I realized that doesn’t help people. What does my life say? "I serve a master who expects me to do the impossible. Come, be stressed out with me. Then you too can feel like a failure." Yikes. Of course that's not what I say, but my life can't lie. Think about it - what does your life say?

I can’t save the world. I need to stop trying.

So I put aside all those goals. My goal this semester is to live. To just live an open and honest life. To attempt to let people see what I’m really like – the good and the bad, the strong and the weak, the brokenness and wholeness. I want to be real and allow other people to be real too. My goal is just to live, and I think that’s the best example I can show. He doesn't use perfection. He chose the foolish things…the weak things…the lowly things…the despised things – that I could be humbled and He could be glorified.

Well, There Are 3+ Billion People

I just realized. I have 330 students this semester. Give or take 2 or 3. Yikes! Last semester I had about 220 and I thought that was a lot. I have a headache right now thinking about it. I have all the same students as last semester plus 110 new students. At least I only have 110 new names to learn. Of course, that’s assuming that I remember all my previous students… It won’t be too bad, right? Oh seriously. That’s a lot of students. I feel a little dizzy thinking about it. Or maybe that's travel hangover.

Back to China

Oh, the transition. Coming back to China is a little shocking. Surprisingly, the cold wasn’t the worst of it. Granted, I am bemoaning the fact that two days ago I was wearing shorts and sandals and sweating and today I am wearing long underwear and sitting in front of my space heater.
But coming back to China I was immediately struck with (1) my confusion, (2) my incompetence, (3) my ability to stand out in every crowd, (4) my aloneness. When the lady made us (my friend Tre’ and I) get off the airport shuttle one stop early, I was so confused. I kept insisting that we wanted to go to the next stop, but she just shoveled us off and we were left on some random Shanghai sidewalk encompassed by our luggage. I was still confused when several taxis refused to take us to our hotel. Surely there was a reason, but all I knew was that we were stranded, cold, tired, and confused. Anyway, we got to our hotel eventually.
I forgot that so many people in Thailand speak English. You can just say English words to them and they understand. Not so in China. I feel very incompetent when I can’t speak the language. I was thinking about being illiterate, because I am right now, and it is quite disempowering. You never know what’s going on and always feel like you are doing the wrong thing. Probably you are. It’s frustrating when a crowd of people gathers around, trying to be helpful, but everyone is telling you things you don’t understand. They shake their heads in bewilderment when they realize you have no idea what they are talking about. Can you really be so clueless? Why yes, in fact.
In case I haven’t mentioned this before, let me tell you now: people in China stare. A lot. I forgot how much. I was used to the casual, half interested glances of Thai people who see a bazillion tourists. I had forgotten that in China, people stop in their tracks, turn around, point their fingers, and cry out “Lao wai! Lao wai!” (word for foreigner, literally meaning “outsider”). Probably the only other foreigners going through the Yangzhou bus station this week (or month?...) will be my teammates, so I guess they feel the need to get in their twenty seconds of open staring. But I get to stare back. I appreciate that.
China feels further away from the US. In Thailand, I kept thinking about home because so many things reminded me of it. I guess in a mixed blessing, there's not much about China that reminds me of good old Mei guo. I feel very far away, and all the people staring make me aware that I am alone. Surrounded by billions of people, I am the one that’s the outsider. And now that I don’t have friends around, I have to resort to talking to myself again. Sometimes I’m a boring person to talk to.
This sounds so negative. Life isn’t all negative. I rather like my life. I just spent half the winter in Thailand. And I just watched an inspiring teacher movie that makes me slightly enthused about starting classes in a few days. I’m happy to be back in my apartment. I like having internet again. And I had a happy dinner of Hui noodles and milk tea. All in all, not such a bad homecoming.

Gratifying the Senses

Beauty is healing. I’m realizing that since being in Thailand. For our conference, we are staying up on a mountain outside of Chiang Mai. After six months of China city, I am in awe of the beauty.

All around I see green, open fields of luscious grass. It is February, and everything is lusciously green. I love all the trees: ancient, twisting, vine-covered trees, small trees exploding with bright orange flowers. In the background the tree-covered mountains rise gently in front of the clear skies. The sun rises brilliantly in the morning, and at night we can see whole constellations, not just an occasional token two stars.

It is February, but I hear birds singing outside. Not just one bird, but many different kinds of birds. At night I hear frogs croaking and crickets chirping peacefully. I miss frogs. The wind has no buildings to tear around so it just quietly rustles the leaves and carries them slowly to the ground.
Perhaps more noticeable is what I don’t hear…no horns and squeaky breaks, no yelling and slamming of doors, no loudspeaker music (although we do get our own Thai karaoke), no hacking up spit or clearing of nostrils. I can live without that.

The air is so clean and clear! When I breathe, I feel like I am helping my lungs instead of damaging them. Instead of Stinky River and raw sewage, I smell the flowers blooming all around. I’m serious – there really are beautiful, fragrant flowers blooming everywhere – in February. People even smell good, since they shower, use deodorant, and brush their teeth.

Sometimes I go barefoot, and underneath my feet I feel the scratchy grass or the hotel room carpet. I don’t get to do barefoot much…or ever. In my China apartment the concrete floors are too cold and outside you would probably catch some horrible communicable disease the instant your bare skin even thought about touching the ground. My pillow is deep and doesn’t collapse beneath my head. My mattress doesn’t leave bruises, like the plank-like China mattresses are known to do. It’s the little things that mean a lot, you know? And I can feel the sun and wind on my skin because they aren’t covered by four layers. I like that.

Finally, the tastes. Yeah, there have been some good tasting things going into my mouth lately. Ice cream. Real ice cream sundaes. Whole grain bread. Chocolate chip cookies. Strawberries. Salad. I really appreciate salad. If we just had some ranch dressing, that would be even better. The one disappointment is the coffee, which is pretty abysmal.

I don’t say all this to disparage China. There are unpleasantries about living there. It doesn’t always appeal to my aesthetic desires. But I am glad to live there and am even thinking of things I am looking forward to about returning. That says a lot, considering I am right now in tropical paradise. I am learning to love China, but I am grateful for a retreat into the beautiful.