So I totally Febrezed my hair this morning. For those of you who know me well, you know this is not the first time this has happened, and I am afraid it will not be the last, especially living in China. They smoke everywhere in China. In the year before I left to come to China, Columbia had begun to ban smoking all over. Now I will own up to it I have a weakness for smoking particularly when I drink, but I prefer to sit in a restaurant or bar that is smoke free.
For a long time in America smoking has been banned in elevators, office building, hospitals and all those “common sense” type places. Well that is unfortunately not the case in Xi’an. Of course I cannot speak for all of China because I have only ever been in this one city, but it seems to be a very cultural thing. All men seem to smoke whereas women, especially older women, don’t.
To me smoking tarnishes an environment. I don’t mind it in bars because, well let’s be honest tarnishing is a main factor in why we go to bars, we don’t go there to be calm and stay clean. But smoke in my home bothers me. I don’t like walking out of a shower into a room that smells of smoke. I don’t like walking out of a classroom full of 8 year-old students into the smell of dad’s huddled around an ashtray. I will get off of an elevator if someone gets on with a cigarette; but I must say the most disturbing of all is the hospital. Whether it is a clinic or a multi-functioning medical facility there is smoking; smoking in the waiting area, smoking in the cafeteria and smoking in the rooms. Doctors and patients alike smokey smoke smoking.
The whole separation of smoking by gender is fascinating. At home it is young girls who start the most and keep smoking. Everywhere you go girls are smoking, tell a girl something is an appetite suppressant and watch them flock to it in hordes; but not in China. None of the girls I teach with smoke, most of the women I see in restaurants aren’t smoking, asking upon the notion I found out that women who smoke are kind of seen as “bad girls,” rebels if you will. I find this fact appalling and amazing all in one.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
The Battle's Won
My ears have a slight constant hum, reminiscent vibrations from last night’s festivities, a night where the sky seemed to rain sparks and fire. Exploding candles and rockets bounced off the courtyard walls, tiny hands stuck out into the cold from sliding windows holding glowing sticks of wonder as the energy throughout the town seemed to run through your body with each blast, each breath, each bang. I felt an entire country watching with me as I marveled in the fireworks display. Although an outsider, an observer, I was a part of the glowing night. A lazy day on my couch turned into a blood boiling night of intensity, just by being here; it is as if I drank the spirit of celebration, with each explosion my heart pounded harder and my body warmed and my dizzied head tried to steady itself, in vain.
Of course like all matter of drinkable spirits comes the inevitable crash and burn. Today although not having consumed any tangible alcohol I feel as if I spent the night pounding shots and dancing to the vibrating speakers from the disco’s walls. The discarded paper shells littering the ground outside are comparable to empty beer bottles that cover the living room floor after a late night of drinking, the smell of sulfur in the air is like the stale dry aroma of an empty bar after a night of merriment. I feel as if I have walked through a battle field the morning after, where bright light and sound had fought to triumph over the dark and silent night.
All over the country today those families that burned and cheered through the night will join together to feast. Generations will gather around a table, in a kitchen or in a living room. They will enjoy the warmth that family brings on this cold Sunday. I imagine televisions across the nation will be tuned to that classic tale of the Monkey King.
Not having a family home to go to I find comfort in the home I have created for myself in this foreign country. Glad to have been welcomed into the night’s festivities I feel a slight emptiness today. No where to go, no one to see. My kitchen will not be filled with the busied hands nor will my living room fill with sweet and savory aromas; my walls will not hear stories or laughter, we will stare at each other blankly but contented.
The cold snowy streets are lined with hollow empty stores. Where there are usually kind inquisitive faces standing at doors or sitting in shops, there are now unreceptive gates of locked metal. There is peacefulness in a city of constant commotion. There are fewer buses and taxis bounding around. The souls out on the streets today are hurried on towards their destinations, their warm gatherings.
I appreciate the gatherings behind the doors and the windows. I look at the buildings and am comforted by the families participating in the tradition. There are not many days where the billions of people in this country can all be counted on to think or do the same as their neighbors, except for today. From the warm southern country to the frozen northern towns the Chinese are all united on this day. In the west today will be Valentine’s Day, an overtly commercialized day for expressions of love. In the east today is truly a day for love and togetherness, appreciation and gratitude for today is February 14 New Years Day.
Of course like all matter of drinkable spirits comes the inevitable crash and burn. Today although not having consumed any tangible alcohol I feel as if I spent the night pounding shots and dancing to the vibrating speakers from the disco’s walls. The discarded paper shells littering the ground outside are comparable to empty beer bottles that cover the living room floor after a late night of drinking, the smell of sulfur in the air is like the stale dry aroma of an empty bar after a night of merriment. I feel as if I have walked through a battle field the morning after, where bright light and sound had fought to triumph over the dark and silent night.
All over the country today those families that burned and cheered through the night will join together to feast. Generations will gather around a table, in a kitchen or in a living room. They will enjoy the warmth that family brings on this cold Sunday. I imagine televisions across the nation will be tuned to that classic tale of the Monkey King.
Not having a family home to go to I find comfort in the home I have created for myself in this foreign country. Glad to have been welcomed into the night’s festivities I feel a slight emptiness today. No where to go, no one to see. My kitchen will not be filled with the busied hands nor will my living room fill with sweet and savory aromas; my walls will not hear stories or laughter, we will stare at each other blankly but contented.
The cold snowy streets are lined with hollow empty stores. Where there are usually kind inquisitive faces standing at doors or sitting in shops, there are now unreceptive gates of locked metal. There is peacefulness in a city of constant commotion. There are fewer buses and taxis bounding around. The souls out on the streets today are hurried on towards their destinations, their warm gatherings.
I appreciate the gatherings behind the doors and the windows. I look at the buildings and am comforted by the families participating in the tradition. There are not many days where the billions of people in this country can all be counted on to think or do the same as their neighbors, except for today. From the warm southern country to the frozen northern towns the Chinese are all united on this day. In the west today will be Valentine’s Day, an overtly commercialized day for expressions of love. In the east today is truly a day for love and togetherness, appreciation and gratitude for today is February 14 New Years Day.
OSCAR'S
“Illusion is the first of all pleasures.” Oscar Wilde
As the smoke from my clove cigarette curls in the glow of my computer screen I contemplate the pleasures that illusion gives. Sitting at OSCAR’S, the self-proclaimed “Ex-pat bar” barely big enough to be your best friend’s living room, it occurs that the pleasure this bar gives me is primarily the comfort from the harsh streets of the city. The low lamped lighting and close comfortable chairs invites exciting conversation, an opening to talk of the times and get away from the structure of daily living. To entertain company in your own living room requires attention and detail, the replenishing of drinks and the cleaning of ash trays but there is much to be said for the relaxed environment a familiar couch can provide. All that comes naturally at Oscar’s named for the famed author and poet Oscar Wilde. An eccentric in his own right Wilde was a man who travelled in his life and through his writing. For the foreigners who live in Xi’an we are travelers and seekers, whether we seek thrills, adventure, experience or simple employment we have all found ourselves in this new society. Joined together by our language and natural differences, where we were once similar and familiar we are now strange and interesting. Oscar’s is a place to join together over a glass of imported liquor or beer, take a moment to forget our surroundings and enjoy the placid ease that comes with being amongst friends. Whether you want to make use of the free wireless Internet or bring your guitar for a spontaneous jam you are welcomed, wanted and encouraged to share. Stop by, bring a friend or come alone. Spark a conversation or sit in silent contemplation. Know that it is a place where you can dress up dress down or dress out. When you slide open the door it is a place for you, the illusion is yours to create, each and every time.
As the smoke from my clove cigarette curls in the glow of my computer screen I contemplate the pleasures that illusion gives. Sitting at OSCAR’S, the self-proclaimed “Ex-pat bar” barely big enough to be your best friend’s living room, it occurs that the pleasure this bar gives me is primarily the comfort from the harsh streets of the city. The low lamped lighting and close comfortable chairs invites exciting conversation, an opening to talk of the times and get away from the structure of daily living. To entertain company in your own living room requires attention and detail, the replenishing of drinks and the cleaning of ash trays but there is much to be said for the relaxed environment a familiar couch can provide. All that comes naturally at Oscar’s named for the famed author and poet Oscar Wilde. An eccentric in his own right Wilde was a man who travelled in his life and through his writing. For the foreigners who live in Xi’an we are travelers and seekers, whether we seek thrills, adventure, experience or simple employment we have all found ourselves in this new society. Joined together by our language and natural differences, where we were once similar and familiar we are now strange and interesting. Oscar’s is a place to join together over a glass of imported liquor or beer, take a moment to forget our surroundings and enjoy the placid ease that comes with being amongst friends. Whether you want to make use of the free wireless Internet or bring your guitar for a spontaneous jam you are welcomed, wanted and encouraged to share. Stop by, bring a friend or come alone. Spark a conversation or sit in silent contemplation. Know that it is a place where you can dress up dress down or dress out. When you slide open the door it is a place for you, the illusion is yours to create, each and every time.
Generally Speaking
Hello friends, family and general loved ones. I haven’t written you since I first arrived in China and thought I might take this opportunity to do so. Today is Wednesday, my day off, and I am a little under-the-weather so I am under pile of blankets sipping some tea. Oddly enough in a country overflowing with tea I am not drinking Chinese tea, although I have had a plethora and it is great, I am drinking Yorkshire tea. Or I am “having a brew” as my roommate Lindsay would say.
I thank my lucky stars on a regular basis for Lindsay; this experience could have been a disaster had I not landed a roommate that I get along with so well. She is from Manchester, England which proves for interesting discussions of “what do you call this?” “We call it a …” the differences are sometimes hilarious. I am surrounded by British folks and I am slowly becoming the only American left in my program.
In total we have Vincent from Holland by way of New Zealand, Chris from London, Robert from Coventry, England, Laurence from Liverpool and Mike from some other place in England. The Americans are/were Dwayne from Reno; he learned how to speak Chinese in the military then decided to come to China and try to make use of that knowledge. Sarah from Texas was my other roommate but she didn’t last a week. Then this today we lost Nick from New York, he flew out early this morning. Dwayne hates the program and will probably leave within the next couple of months….then I will be the only American still going.
There is a thriving group of foreigners here though. There is an expat bar not far from here that we go to often. It was started by my now friend Pierre from New York. He is here on a Fulbright Scholarship studying famine relief. He figured he needed a side project so he opened Oscar’s (named for Oscar Wilde). It is a tiny hole in a wall, almost literally, that feels like walking into someone’s living room. It is cozy and inviting, we recently put curtains over the door so that people couldn’t look in. As you might think, a bunch of foreigners sitting around drinking and listening to funny music is quite a sight so people will stop and stare through the glass door, think viewing tank at the Zoo.
It is a nice break from the sometimes overwhelming city. I have made a few friends who are all here for different reasons, either to study or teach or on research grants. I find myself being more fascinated by the foreigners who come to China, and their reasons, than I am at times with China. Recently I was asked to provide training for all of the Chinese teachers (CT) that work with us at my school. They wanted me to talk for an hour and a half about how to improve the relationship between the CT and the foreign teachers (FT). Being a new teacher I took this as a compliment but also as an opportunity to really explain some of the issues that we have when teaching in this program.
I started my training by asking the group, about 30 teachers, “how many of you have ever been outside of China?” One person raised his hand; he had been to Australia for a week. Other than that not a single person has set foot out of their own country. I was able to use that to explain to them that all of the foreigners that work here have done just that, left home. We have all left everything behind, our friends and family our familiarity our entire support system. China is a very isolating place at times and I wanted them to understand that once we get here the school, Gallop, in essence becomes our support system. For example, I talked about how difficult it is sometimes to eat on my days off because I can’t just walk into a restaurant and ask from a menu, of course that is getting easier but at first there are many times where I felt completely overwhelmed and helpless. Trying to explain culture-shock is difficult because it is a very personal thing, and is entirely subjective.
Having been here for a little over 2 months I have started to get used to a lot of stuff. The staring isn’t as bothersome and I am able to ignore. I have started interacting with more people, my vocabulary is extremely minimal but I am taking a 2 hour class each week plus I have a tutor every other week for 2 hours. I have a friend who will text me Chinese characters to show cab drivers when I need to go somewhere. The bus system is very handy but crowded and potentially risky.
As for the job, there are some really great parts about it and like any job there are some really bad parts. I think a lot of the disagreement with the Americans comes from the fact that from the very first day we arrive we realize that a lot of the things we were told are in fact not true or misstatements. Our teaching schedule is grueling. I will give you an overview of my classes.
Tuesday, Thursday and Friday in the morning I teach at Huanghe Primary School. I teach grade 3 from 8:25 to 12:15. I absolutely adore the kids I have in those classes. There are approximately 40 kids in each class and I teach 3 classes. On Tuesday afternoons I go to Jiaoda Primary school where I teach first grade from 2:15 to 4:15 (it takes about 45 minutes to get to this school). This school has about 50 students in each class. On Friday afternoons I go to a Kindergarten around the corner where I teach 7 classes back to back with about 30 kids in each class. The kids in all of these schools are adorable but the size of the classes, the time spent and energy exuded to teach is exhausting to say the least. On Saturdays and Sundays we are required to be at our school Gallop from 9 am to 7 pm. On each day I teach 4 hour long classes and spend the rest of my time there for lesson planning. The classes at Gallop are better because they are smaller which gives you an opportunity to get to know you students and the games and songs are a lot more fun.
I think the main let down from our busy schedule, besides the overall exhaustion, is that we have very little time to go anywhere or do anything. All the teachers have Monday off, which is nice but the day is usually used to catch up on sleep, laundry or grocery shopping. We all get another day off per week but it varies, mine is Wednesdays but Lindsay has Thursday off, that sort of thing. The past couple of weeks I have been better about making myself get out of the apartment and go see and/or do stuff in the city. There are markets to go to and I have my tutoring on Wednesdays so that gets me out of the house; my first month I was spending the whole day in bed, and reasonably so.
They said that we will get used to the schedule, and I am sure we will. I really enjoy the job and so I don’t mind it too much. It is straining though. The weather here is freezing and our heat doesn’t get cut on till mid month so needless to say I am sick. I have pretty much lost my voice and have a cold, but I am bombarded regularly with Chinese teas that will help cure all, or so I am told! I think winter will be hard but, it is like that most places, the cold makes everything just a little bit more difficult.
I know we get some time off in February for Spring Festival, so I am hoping to do some traveling then. Other than that we get 2 weeks off in the summer and I am thinking of doing a Cambodia, Vietnam and Thailand trip. As for now I am just taking it one day at a time and truly appreciating and enjoying the experience. Being away from home has been difficult in some ways but really great for me. It is really nice to get away from everything you know and to test yourself. I have now been in China for 2 months and that is a strange and wonderful fact.
There are things that I miss so much, but that will make my return to them all the more pleasurable. Just know that I am here and I am working hard and I am appreciating every ounce of effort I pour into this job and experience.
All my love from the middle country!
I thank my lucky stars on a regular basis for Lindsay; this experience could have been a disaster had I not landed a roommate that I get along with so well. She is from Manchester, England which proves for interesting discussions of “what do you call this?” “We call it a …” the differences are sometimes hilarious. I am surrounded by British folks and I am slowly becoming the only American left in my program.
In total we have Vincent from Holland by way of New Zealand, Chris from London, Robert from Coventry, England, Laurence from Liverpool and Mike from some other place in England. The Americans are/were Dwayne from Reno; he learned how to speak Chinese in the military then decided to come to China and try to make use of that knowledge. Sarah from Texas was my other roommate but she didn’t last a week. Then this today we lost Nick from New York, he flew out early this morning. Dwayne hates the program and will probably leave within the next couple of months….then I will be the only American still going.
There is a thriving group of foreigners here though. There is an expat bar not far from here that we go to often. It was started by my now friend Pierre from New York. He is here on a Fulbright Scholarship studying famine relief. He figured he needed a side project so he opened Oscar’s (named for Oscar Wilde). It is a tiny hole in a wall, almost literally, that feels like walking into someone’s living room. It is cozy and inviting, we recently put curtains over the door so that people couldn’t look in. As you might think, a bunch of foreigners sitting around drinking and listening to funny music is quite a sight so people will stop and stare through the glass door, think viewing tank at the Zoo.
It is a nice break from the sometimes overwhelming city. I have made a few friends who are all here for different reasons, either to study or teach or on research grants. I find myself being more fascinated by the foreigners who come to China, and their reasons, than I am at times with China. Recently I was asked to provide training for all of the Chinese teachers (CT) that work with us at my school. They wanted me to talk for an hour and a half about how to improve the relationship between the CT and the foreign teachers (FT). Being a new teacher I took this as a compliment but also as an opportunity to really explain some of the issues that we have when teaching in this program.
I started my training by asking the group, about 30 teachers, “how many of you have ever been outside of China?” One person raised his hand; he had been to Australia for a week. Other than that not a single person has set foot out of their own country. I was able to use that to explain to them that all of the foreigners that work here have done just that, left home. We have all left everything behind, our friends and family our familiarity our entire support system. China is a very isolating place at times and I wanted them to understand that once we get here the school, Gallop, in essence becomes our support system. For example, I talked about how difficult it is sometimes to eat on my days off because I can’t just walk into a restaurant and ask from a menu, of course that is getting easier but at first there are many times where I felt completely overwhelmed and helpless. Trying to explain culture-shock is difficult because it is a very personal thing, and is entirely subjective.
Having been here for a little over 2 months I have started to get used to a lot of stuff. The staring isn’t as bothersome and I am able to ignore. I have started interacting with more people, my vocabulary is extremely minimal but I am taking a 2 hour class each week plus I have a tutor every other week for 2 hours. I have a friend who will text me Chinese characters to show cab drivers when I need to go somewhere. The bus system is very handy but crowded and potentially risky.
As for the job, there are some really great parts about it and like any job there are some really bad parts. I think a lot of the disagreement with the Americans comes from the fact that from the very first day we arrive we realize that a lot of the things we were told are in fact not true or misstatements. Our teaching schedule is grueling. I will give you an overview of my classes.
Tuesday, Thursday and Friday in the morning I teach at Huanghe Primary School. I teach grade 3 from 8:25 to 12:15. I absolutely adore the kids I have in those classes. There are approximately 40 kids in each class and I teach 3 classes. On Tuesday afternoons I go to Jiaoda Primary school where I teach first grade from 2:15 to 4:15 (it takes about 45 minutes to get to this school). This school has about 50 students in each class. On Friday afternoons I go to a Kindergarten around the corner where I teach 7 classes back to back with about 30 kids in each class. The kids in all of these schools are adorable but the size of the classes, the time spent and energy exuded to teach is exhausting to say the least. On Saturdays and Sundays we are required to be at our school Gallop from 9 am to 7 pm. On each day I teach 4 hour long classes and spend the rest of my time there for lesson planning. The classes at Gallop are better because they are smaller which gives you an opportunity to get to know you students and the games and songs are a lot more fun.
I think the main let down from our busy schedule, besides the overall exhaustion, is that we have very little time to go anywhere or do anything. All the teachers have Monday off, which is nice but the day is usually used to catch up on sleep, laundry or grocery shopping. We all get another day off per week but it varies, mine is Wednesdays but Lindsay has Thursday off, that sort of thing. The past couple of weeks I have been better about making myself get out of the apartment and go see and/or do stuff in the city. There are markets to go to and I have my tutoring on Wednesdays so that gets me out of the house; my first month I was spending the whole day in bed, and reasonably so.
They said that we will get used to the schedule, and I am sure we will. I really enjoy the job and so I don’t mind it too much. It is straining though. The weather here is freezing and our heat doesn’t get cut on till mid month so needless to say I am sick. I have pretty much lost my voice and have a cold, but I am bombarded regularly with Chinese teas that will help cure all, or so I am told! I think winter will be hard but, it is like that most places, the cold makes everything just a little bit more difficult.
I know we get some time off in February for Spring Festival, so I am hoping to do some traveling then. Other than that we get 2 weeks off in the summer and I am thinking of doing a Cambodia, Vietnam and Thailand trip. As for now I am just taking it one day at a time and truly appreciating and enjoying the experience. Being away from home has been difficult in some ways but really great for me. It is really nice to get away from everything you know and to test yourself. I have now been in China for 2 months and that is a strange and wonderful fact.
There are things that I miss so much, but that will make my return to them all the more pleasurable. Just know that I am here and I am working hard and I am appreciating every ounce of effort I pour into this job and experience.
All my love from the middle country!
Anecdote
China is a country that makes absolutely no sense, and therefore everything that takes place within it makes no sense. You know when you get on the plane that you are headed to a country where you do not speak the language and their language isn't even written with letters, so you have to realize that there is going to be an overwhelming mix of isolation and miscommunication. Luckily with an English speaking program most people around you speak English, and you will end up with a roommate that speaks English. So you accept that you won't be lacking someone to connect with or bond over this exciting adventure. However, the isolation is a major part of the transition that you not only have to recognize but overcome.
Not wanting to leave your apartment because you know that outside the door, on the street you will not be able to ask for what you need, won't be able to tell someone what you feel. The smallest detail like buying a bottle of water becomes an epic game of charades, a game that will consume a large part of your life for at least the next month while you wait, hoping one day to find that the mumblings and sounds around you have worked themselves out to become something comprehensible.
In the beginning your mind hears noises and grunts and sounds so different than what you are used to hearing as common speech that it is impossible to distinguish one from another. So the busying street becomes an overwhelming cacophony of horn honking, bus squealing and indistinguishable conversation. But you make yourself walk out of the door, look people in the eye and use your dramatic hand gestures to get what you need or explain what you want. Each moment becoming a little bit easier than the last, each step more casually enthusiastic.
China is a country of people who are very proud and very settled, they have no desire to reach out and experience other places in life, and they don't have the inherent desire for travel or global knowledge. Their life cycle ends, most likely, where it began, same province, same city. Tourist cites around the city are flocked with Chinese people who have travelled from one part of the country to another. That is the extent of their interest. Of course this is the rule, there are exceptions, but in general the Chinese are happy here, they are not worried about over there. Knowing this as a fundamental fact of the Chinese mindset helps you when you are a foreigner living here. Because they have no desire to go see your country, they never quite understand why you have a desire to see theirs.
In the beginning of the process of moving to China it is explained that you must expect a great deal of attention to be paid to you, at all times. You can try to accept that concept before you set foot in the middle country, but you will never truly be prepared. Being a foreigner in this country makes one able to relate, on a certain level, with the famous people who are always noticed, watched and studied. It is exhilarating at times to feel the interested eyes of those around you, taking notice in the little nuances of your life. It is easy to see how many people could fall in love with this feeling, of feeling different, important and interesting. Many people leave their home countries where they are just like the person that stands next to them, maybe always wishing they were a bit changed or stood out a little more. Then they come to China and that exotic difference is instantly granted, and one can feel that they have become a little bit better of a person, naturally, organically.
The burden of a country’s interest can weigh heavily at times on the back of these foreigners. At first the interest is exciting and welcomed, eventually though you can start to distinguish between the many different attitudes with which you are being watched. There are the ones who will stop you and ask for a picture with you, a nice person who helps you pick the best laundry detergent out of a whole aisle of confusing labels, but there are others who are not so interested in seeing you walking through their streets. In general the feeling is pleasant and respectful, but there are many who stare at you with disgust, disdain or complete abhorrence of your penetration into their world.
A country known throughout history as being xenophobic, still has an under tow of people who think that you should stay on your side of the line and leave their country out of your thoughts. There are the young kids who don't feel this way but can look at you and laugh in a way that will make you feel like a kid standing in a school yard exposed with someone throwing sand in your face.
These nasty laughs and disregard are the exception to the rule. A rule that will become blazingly apparent the longer you are in this energetic country. People here want to help you; they want you to know that they are glad you are here. Your interest swells their national breast with the pride that they have always known but are glad to have a reminder that comes in the form of a young American walking through their streets and coexisting with their ways.
Not wanting to leave your apartment because you know that outside the door, on the street you will not be able to ask for what you need, won't be able to tell someone what you feel. The smallest detail like buying a bottle of water becomes an epic game of charades, a game that will consume a large part of your life for at least the next month while you wait, hoping one day to find that the mumblings and sounds around you have worked themselves out to become something comprehensible.
In the beginning your mind hears noises and grunts and sounds so different than what you are used to hearing as common speech that it is impossible to distinguish one from another. So the busying street becomes an overwhelming cacophony of horn honking, bus squealing and indistinguishable conversation. But you make yourself walk out of the door, look people in the eye and use your dramatic hand gestures to get what you need or explain what you want. Each moment becoming a little bit easier than the last, each step more casually enthusiastic.
China is a country of people who are very proud and very settled, they have no desire to reach out and experience other places in life, and they don't have the inherent desire for travel or global knowledge. Their life cycle ends, most likely, where it began, same province, same city. Tourist cites around the city are flocked with Chinese people who have travelled from one part of the country to another. That is the extent of their interest. Of course this is the rule, there are exceptions, but in general the Chinese are happy here, they are not worried about over there. Knowing this as a fundamental fact of the Chinese mindset helps you when you are a foreigner living here. Because they have no desire to go see your country, they never quite understand why you have a desire to see theirs.
In the beginning of the process of moving to China it is explained that you must expect a great deal of attention to be paid to you, at all times. You can try to accept that concept before you set foot in the middle country, but you will never truly be prepared. Being a foreigner in this country makes one able to relate, on a certain level, with the famous people who are always noticed, watched and studied. It is exhilarating at times to feel the interested eyes of those around you, taking notice in the little nuances of your life. It is easy to see how many people could fall in love with this feeling, of feeling different, important and interesting. Many people leave their home countries where they are just like the person that stands next to them, maybe always wishing they were a bit changed or stood out a little more. Then they come to China and that exotic difference is instantly granted, and one can feel that they have become a little bit better of a person, naturally, organically.
The burden of a country’s interest can weigh heavily at times on the back of these foreigners. At first the interest is exciting and welcomed, eventually though you can start to distinguish between the many different attitudes with which you are being watched. There are the ones who will stop you and ask for a picture with you, a nice person who helps you pick the best laundry detergent out of a whole aisle of confusing labels, but there are others who are not so interested in seeing you walking through their streets. In general the feeling is pleasant and respectful, but there are many who stare at you with disgust, disdain or complete abhorrence of your penetration into their world.
A country known throughout history as being xenophobic, still has an under tow of people who think that you should stay on your side of the line and leave their country out of your thoughts. There are the young kids who don't feel this way but can look at you and laugh in a way that will make you feel like a kid standing in a school yard exposed with someone throwing sand in your face.
These nasty laughs and disregard are the exception to the rule. A rule that will become blazingly apparent the longer you are in this energetic country. People here want to help you; they want you to know that they are glad you are here. Your interest swells their national breast with the pride that they have always known but are glad to have a reminder that comes in the form of a young American walking through their streets and coexisting with their ways.
The Pulp
Balancing on the precipice of change.
Teetering on the brink of gratified destruction;
Taking them down.
The fear and enthusiasm, paralyzed and exhilarating,
Forcefully, categorically forward.
Knowing, trusting to step, gracefully, assuredly.
A sturdy base to stand on; cultivated.
Kneaded, nourished with breadth
On the verge, the breakdown, standing, staring,
Stand and stare, unmovable.
The energy the spirit propelling forward,
Kept moving, not stopping.
Gone.
The peaceful quiet awoken.
A tumbling mass, exuberance, electric pulse, the pulp.
A body tired but yearning, a beating, prove and withstand, a chance.
Push, pull, set, test…limitless.
A mind, relieved, unquestioned, constant.
Wandering singularly without reproach; unchained…
Grow, learn, blossom.
A heart poised, ready, unheeding, at home to thrive,
The pulse the prance, a beat of the drum.
Pounds alone, for everyone, masterful, palpable,
A new little tune, rhythms and groove.
Corners to turn, new corners, sights and faces…
Unexplored, unquestioned, conquerable.
Teetering on the brink of gratified destruction;
Taking them down.
The fear and enthusiasm, paralyzed and exhilarating,
Forcefully, categorically forward.
Knowing, trusting to step, gracefully, assuredly.
A sturdy base to stand on; cultivated.
Kneaded, nourished with breadth
On the verge, the breakdown, standing, staring,
Stand and stare, unmovable.
The energy the spirit propelling forward,
Kept moving, not stopping.
Gone.
The peaceful quiet awoken.
A tumbling mass, exuberance, electric pulse, the pulp.
A body tired but yearning, a beating, prove and withstand, a chance.
Push, pull, set, test…limitless.
A mind, relieved, unquestioned, constant.
Wandering singularly without reproach; unchained…
Grow, learn, blossom.
A heart poised, ready, unheeding, at home to thrive,
The pulse the prance, a beat of the drum.
Pounds alone, for everyone, masterful, palpable,
A new little tune, rhythms and groove.
Corners to turn, new corners, sights and faces…
Unexplored, unquestioned, conquerable.
It Only Rains in September, Maybe
Standing on the corner of a busy Chinese street, I wait for a break in the traffic before crossing. My pink and purple portable umbrella hangs high above my head. It was a going away gift from home, and in my single month in Xi’an I have used it often. Standing on the corner, umbrella in hand, I curse the tiny triangular patch of breathable fabric on the toe of my tennis shoes. With each splash from the street, or drop from the sky I can feel the dampening of my cotton socks, and in that moment I remember that cotton is never a good idea in the rain.
Everything is harder when it rains. You start your morning to the sounds of the wet air urging you to stay in bed, cuddled under your blanket, head tucked tightly in your pillow’s crease; however, you must rise and persevere through the damp day. It seems that leaving the home always happens a little later as if your subconscious is slowing you down, delaying the muddy trek. Umbrella in hand, hood up or poncho on you go out, pant legs rolled or tucked safely away from the sodden ground. Head plastered down to aid in navigation around muddy puddles, for on dry days the dirty spots are easily avoided but today, on a rainy day, the muck and wet blend making it nearly impossible to skirt the grime.
All that being said your struggles, which come from that rain soaked day, are brilliantly rewarded; the day after the rain came. You awaken to find the sun peering through your window inviting you out on a new day. Your step is a little lighter as you prance through your morning rituals. The umbrella burden no longer needed, you step out into the daylight finding a surprising treat for your senses. Unlike the usual gray foggy cloud that greets you each morning, you see an astonishing glassy blue sky. White, a color forsaken by these dirty streets, swims through the sky as fluffy clouds riding the breeze. The morning’s gratitude is in this day, the sun is bright and elated to be out and shining for you. If you listen for a moment, past the city sounds, you can imagine the song birds singing, welcoming the clean breath of air that has floated in from some unknown village.
As if stolen from my hometown, that plush southern city with green leaves, blue skies and a sweet breeze, I take to the streets on this day breathing deeply, thankfully. Keeping my head up and my eyes wandering through to catch a glimpse of some other person who recognizes what a gift the rain has given us. A warm clear day that coils its way down to a crisply charmed night, I glance up at the rare stars poking there heads out to walk me home. I offer up a wish on their guiding light and welcome sleep so I may dream of more sunshine before tomorrow’s cloudy smoky day.
Everything is harder when it rains. You start your morning to the sounds of the wet air urging you to stay in bed, cuddled under your blanket, head tucked tightly in your pillow’s crease; however, you must rise and persevere through the damp day. It seems that leaving the home always happens a little later as if your subconscious is slowing you down, delaying the muddy trek. Umbrella in hand, hood up or poncho on you go out, pant legs rolled or tucked safely away from the sodden ground. Head plastered down to aid in navigation around muddy puddles, for on dry days the dirty spots are easily avoided but today, on a rainy day, the muck and wet blend making it nearly impossible to skirt the grime.
All that being said your struggles, which come from that rain soaked day, are brilliantly rewarded; the day after the rain came. You awaken to find the sun peering through your window inviting you out on a new day. Your step is a little lighter as you prance through your morning rituals. The umbrella burden no longer needed, you step out into the daylight finding a surprising treat for your senses. Unlike the usual gray foggy cloud that greets you each morning, you see an astonishing glassy blue sky. White, a color forsaken by these dirty streets, swims through the sky as fluffy clouds riding the breeze. The morning’s gratitude is in this day, the sun is bright and elated to be out and shining for you. If you listen for a moment, past the city sounds, you can imagine the song birds singing, welcoming the clean breath of air that has floated in from some unknown village.
As if stolen from my hometown, that plush southern city with green leaves, blue skies and a sweet breeze, I take to the streets on this day breathing deeply, thankfully. Keeping my head up and my eyes wandering through to catch a glimpse of some other person who recognizes what a gift the rain has given us. A warm clear day that coils its way down to a crisply charmed night, I glance up at the rare stars poking there heads out to walk me home. I offer up a wish on their guiding light and welcome sleep so I may dream of more sunshine before tomorrow’s cloudy smoky day.
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