Mya in China

February 20th 2008

2008-03-24T20:16:00.001-07:00

An auspicious day in China - Josh D Wiens, random of all randoms, put down his little cheese sandwich of pickles and Dijon mustard - looked me in the face and said, "Mya? Mya, will you marry me?" I kid you not. I would have regarded this as just a random musing but for the look of absolute astonishment on his face for having asked a question that had been bubbling in him for some time. OF COURSE, I said yes! We waltzed around the room in a daze which later ended in tears (on my part) that we could not share this joyous burden of great news with those we were most dear. (If I have ever felt homesick before it was nothing compared to the agony of being far away when there is GOOD news to tell!) It actually took us about 3 days before we broke down and talked to my parents (Josh is a nervous bundle - showered and collared for the skyping occasion) and then got a hold of his parents that had just returned from a game park in the middle of Kenya. After that, it became a real occasion with a set date and the reality of our decision pulling our dreams out of the air and making them walk and talk.
So we are engaged - here are two pictures of our cute funny faces in Qingdao China and imitating a picture we found in a Tibetian tea house in LiJiang China.

Currently, I am continuing my teaching at Harbin Institute of Technology - adjusting to new classes and new times which are mostly in the evening (hard for my morning inclined self). I now teach a Historical Survey of British Literature course which causes me anxiety but also increasing bliss as I get to actually read literature for WORK! Josh, the lucky one, is now living on a lovely farm in South Central China in the province of Sichuan - learning about big time organic farming in China - working with laughing ladies - and discovering the trials and tribulations of having no indoor heat in a perpetually damp and rather chilly environment. From what I can tell - it is a pretty amazing experience so far. He will continue to do that until June when we will travel a little more (maybe with my younger brother who will be visiting) and then head back to Canada for all the preparations - including apartment and job searching. (so if you hear of any - write me please!)

HURRAH! The Party will come! See you all there!

Indonesia

2008-03-09T10:15:00.000-07:00

Jakarta (Jan 15th) –
Sitting on a slated wooden bench – backless so I hunch over – ears plugged but happy. Remembering Bahasa Indonesia bit by bit- words come to my lips as I tried to convince the taxi driver that we will take a bus to Gambir stasiun – Josh and I wonder which information is good information (everyone tells us something different). It is about 2am and softly humid. We took out money from a ATM and then proceeded to freak out at the sheer quantity removed until we realized, 50,000 Rupiah is only about $5US. It will take some getting used to; this currency laden with too many zeros.
My childhood rushes back to me like a well-spring within – smooth and joyous bubbling up of familiarity but also confusion. Like coming home in a dream but being unsure why that exact place should be home.
We hope to take a train to Semarang in central Jaya and then bus to Jepara, where Malyssa lives working with MCC in the SALT program, living with a host family and teaching English. Right now we have to wait until a possible arrival of a shuttle bus to the train station, or the decision to take a taxi instead.
Today was a long sort of insubstantial blur of rather odd events. Last night sleep was troubled in the boat like windowless room in the Kowloon area of Hong Kong – an organized but unfamiliar city full of lights and darkness unknown. We were glad to wake up and easily find the A21 bus to the airport for only $33HK each. We sat in the top deck, right at the front like kings in a caravan – sharing bread bits and juice until Josh noticed the, ‘no eating and drinking’ sign and it began to rain – blurring our view.
Hong Kong airport is a huge, organized wealth laden shopping mall-ish island with people from anywhere bearing the often industriously grim mark of ‘rich traveler on route to anywhere but here’. I felt uncomfortable in my grubby runners and hand-made orange shawl, carrying embroidered cloth bag – like a night intruder finding herself in a well-lit house full of – other intruders – made me feel insignificant and unwillingly comical. I looked at Josh and the oddities recede into the comfort of my heart love and closest friend.
We speedily breakfasted on Combo A – Western eggs and toast and the flight to Manila deposited us into a busy other world – leaving us almost 9 hours to discover the day transit lounge of the Pilipino airport. We succumbed to a smiling lady, inviting us to the Manila lounge for the overly tempting price of $15US and all the drink/food/comfy couch we can take until boarding time. Stuffing ourselves, napping and watching the little mouse (or two, who knows) catch our breath as it darts under couch to table like a funny sort of phantom – the time passed quickly and our flight to Jakarta went smoothly, depositing us; sore necked, full tummies and curious-filled on this bench.
Travel to Jepara – Same day
Josh’s head rests on blue pillow and my shoulder – the Argo Muria train clacks and weaves over track past fields of flowing green tended by graceful men and women. Their heads covered by traditional wide coned hats– their arms billowing in worn, loose fitting long sleeves. Now we come to the ocean and the waves crash meters below our steady journey. The wind is strong from behind – as if pushing everything along – no one seems to mind. The sun looks hot, the people thin, the land the birthplace of all that is green.
Bali (Jan 19th) –
Here I sit – hot sun boiling my white skin – hot sand sparkling – white waves with glints of turquoise scoop across the horizon. It is the pervasion of trash that bring you back to the moment – to the day’s reality of waste eating into beautiful spaces. The rainy season brings excess dirt and all the trash thrown carelessly to the ocean and the ocean becomes smaller because it is not a deep abyss that can contain the filth of the world. It is a gentle mighty space that still chokes on the litter thrown at it.
We safely maneuvered through train and bus to Jepara for a happy reunion with Cora and Malyssa then spent 3 days in Jepara with Malyssa’s host family – lots of eating, mandi-ing continuously to wash the sweat away and simple communicating with the 6 year old Fiona – Malyssa’s chattery little host sister. Then, Josh, Cora, Malyssa and I hopped aboard the bis malam (overnight bus) at 4pm yesterday from Salatiga (MCC’s Indonesia headquarters). We slept fitfully, got up at 5am when ferried across from Bali to drink kopi susu (coffee with sweet and condensed milk) and watch the sun rise over the islands – salt wet wind humidifying our brains and faces. Three more hours of driving through Bali island to the other side and we arrived to Kuta Beach, Bali. Paradise beach and piña coladas? Not really. Tourism pervades like a disease and everything (of course) costs money. Vendors are sly and cage about like vultures over dying meat. (Maybe this is a bit harsh.) We ate lunch at Aussie-owned “Sheppy Restaurant” near the beach and then Malyssa and I went on a long journey for a simple swimsuit/hat/water. Everything burns fast in this tropical sun.
Josh and Cora scoped out the beach to find garbagey water and no piña coladas to be had. I get frustrated and sit here on the sand –warding off in coming massages and travel trips – firmly and probably rudely – to write but I tell them, “Saya mau membaca buku!” (I want to read my book!) because I have run out of no’s.
Bali (Jan 21st) –
We found a good place by taking a bus from a small tour company that drove us around to the South East side of Bali to a very small coast town hugging the mountain side. Candi Desa; our oasis. Our driver even found us a very sweet collection of cottages to stay at – I wrote this the first morning after we arrived;
Sitting on the upper porch of our cottage looking at a tiny slice of glorious beauty. Waves crash a little way from the stone barrier, created to maintain a safe harbor for small wooden fishing boats and coral pieces hill up beside them – brought in offering by the ocean. To my left, out on the ocean, four rocks jut into the blue sky creating islands resembling craggy pirate ships – a sail boat slides past them in the morning haze. Above my head is a tightly woven grass-thatch roof and small birds dart around, feet in front of my face, feasting on small insects found there. It is a two story cottage, simple wiring just for a couple lamps, and a bathroom with cold water spurting from a clever clay jar that sits in an open part of the roof – blue sky stretches above you as you shower. The water is clean, clear, warm and the harbor creates a perfect swimming pool in the evening when the tide is high. As soon as we arrived we suited up and headed down for a swim – me, terrified to put my feet down in case of biting things – Josh, a contented sea-angel, needing an anchor to keep him from just drifting out into the blue and joining the mermen in their quest for a watery kingdom. As we sat to watch the sun set over the water, an older man shimmied up several of the coconut (hence the name Kelapa) trees and we feasted, with the hotel staff, on fresh coconut.
Jan 22 (Bali, Candi Desa)
We went snorkeling off the side of two rock islands (the ones we can see from our porch). Breathtaking – battling against the current at times – learning how to breath – when not to breath – the deep taste of salt water ever present – snot smeared into the mask (I have a cold). The sharp pinch in the ears when you dive and, for a moment, become part of the world below. The day was blue – our two boatmen, laid-back smiley fellows, directing us away from the rocks and then just hanging out for an hour or two as we learned to maneuver the flippers and masks. We had purchased a German-made-disposable underwater camera and happily snapped pictures of each other and fish – hoping one or two would turn out.
Arriving home ecstatic, we debriefed over our experience in this other world, munching on various snacks and fresh fruit smoothies. Josh and Malyssa – ready to become career fish watchers – detailed the intricate life of these fish; running errands – going next door to visit the neighbor – popping over to the supermarket to pick up some roast beef for Sunday dinner – etc. And of course, the Wiens fascination with poo-ing fish.
Jan 31st (Hong Kong)
A bit of a jump in days before I had a chance to write again;
Sitting at Charlie Brown Café in Kowloon, an area of Hong Kong. So, Hong Kong, a city of sorts – people of all sorts, food of all sorts, etc. It is highly organized – the MTR and buses run with ease and traffic does not appear to be unreasonable. Things are relatively clean and many parks fill the spaces. Mountains – or actually, green and shaggy hills – rise up, breaking thru the sky scraper line and I feel calmer. The city is built with the earth – not against it. Yet, things are still overwhelming to the senses as the sheer amount of advertising and quantity of things ever for sale, haunts your step and slyly follows you saying “good copies, cheap copies, watches, handbags?” Yet, I feel curious and wish to stay and become a HK norm - To explore and find the hidden gems behind the billboards. The rhythm is a delicious enchantment.
To recap our lasts days in Indonesia: Our last day in Candi Desa we packed and left early with our surprisingly young driver (not the older man we had arranged the drive with). We drove through villages on a day of festival all across Bali. Men and women in traditional dress of sarong and collared shirt – beautiful. We passed through the center of Bali on our way to the north – over the top of an old volcano – a nice view but rather unexciting so we left soon after lunch and found our next bus – hot and sunburnt but only slightly out-of-sorts. We ferried back to Java – again sipping cups of steaming hot kopi susu but this time embracing the sun set.
We arrived a bit crumpled to Yogakarta and found a cheap, only slightly moldy, place to stay. Then we set off with only two eager travel guides tagging along who took us to a batik art school. Batik is a traditional cloth dying technique, using wax pens to draw intricate designs. We pleased our guides by purchasing many pieces of artwork for friend and family. After this, we were all a little zonked out by all our night traveling and, by this time, I was suffering from an earache so we found a local pharmacy and paid almost nothing for prescription drugs. The rest of that day was mostly a blue of shopping and feeling bitten, allergic (Josh’s legs were swollen and red with something) and ear achy.
We went to bed rather too late and woke up rather too early in order to head to a sunrise over Borobudor. Borobudor: a massive pyramid like temple to Buddha built many hundreds of years ago (maybe early 1000AD or something). We wandered in constant fear of being photo-ed, asked questions and followed by eager students wanting to meet the white foreigner. We arrived back to Salatiga (MCC headquarters) weary – hurt – dirty. Dan (the country rep) looked at our wounds, helped us understand the washer, invited us to dinner and then took off. Josh and I washed 3 loads of laundry, which helped settle a lot of traveling consternation. The next day Malyssa and Cora left sadly early – leaving Josh and I feeling unsettled and sorrowful. (Goodbyes are so hard!) Finally, after a long day of train travel and a long night of planes we arrived back to Hong Kong, found a nice hostel, tramped to the library and saw the incredibly cheesy over-done HK light show at Victoria harbor and went to sleep.

Super long super post!

2008-02-28T14:10:00.000-08:00

Josh and I have spent the last few days doing just about nothing and thoroughly enjoying cooking our own meals and not having to arrive anywhere to catch anything. It is a nice vacation from our vacation and I am trying to relish the break before heading back to work sometime in the next week or so. It is a bit of a mixed blessing, to work for a school so mysterious that I have no idea when I teach, what I teach or who I teach and will probably not be privy to such information until the time comes when they see fit to inform the teacher of her teaching duties. It leaves me without anything to prepare for so instead I spend my time learning how to relax a bit and retyping my journal entries to share on my blog. Enjoy!

We begin in Guangxi Province in the town of Yangshuo – Josh, Megan (another teacher here at HIT) and I. Our travels begin January 2nd 2008.

Yangshuo (Jan 4th) – *Picture – On Li River boat – Megan, Josh and I

Josh and Megan nap in the neatly clipped grass of the park nearby the very old Banyan tree, a tourist attraction close to Yangshuo that did not necessarily deserve our 18 kuai (Chinese money) and I sat down to write this:
Chewing on sugar cane, sitting in the arm grass, Josh and Megan by my side, the mountain hills of Guanxi province surrounding us like gentle guardians. We are staying in Yangshuo at the West Lily Hotel in a triple bed room with heat that doesn’t work and two comforters to make up the difference. A good hotel find after almost staying in a nearby Youth Hostel with a slightly overbearing guide. We could not have had better weather, although the cold is rather cold due to the humid air that sinks into your bones when the sun departs for the evening. Yesterday we delighted in a boat trip down the Li River through a more uninhabited bit of these otherworldly hills – slipping between lamas, camels, sleeping giants…the river liquid-air beneath a softly purring boat, the driver whistling a tune to match his carefree smile.
Today we took bikes and coasted through the countryside on our way to visit the Banyan Tree and YueLiang Shan (Moon Mountain), becoming overly sentimental by the fresh air and rosy cheeked children living in the yet serene valleys here. I put a quick check on our lofty ideals by driving my bike over the sharp edge into the small canal on the side of the rode, scraping skin and bruising legs, allowing everyone time to realize how much their bums hurt due to the hard and seemingly unyielding bike seats. Thankfully, we arrived at the 1000 year old Banyan tree to refresh ourselves upon boiled corn, noodles and a freshly cut stick of sweet fibrous sugar cane.

Travel to Li Jiang (Jan 6th)

The next entry comes two days later after we had hopped an early morning bus from Yangshuo to the town of Nanning, taxied across a neat looking metropolis to a large and people filled train station to happily emerge from a long wait in line with 3 tickets for a train in an hour, to Kunming of Yunnan Province. We all had a splendid time on the well oiled comfy train, eating dinner in the car full of cheery travelers and cigarette smoke, then sleeping only when forced into our bunks, after the 10pm lights-out curfew. Awakened earlier than we expected, we clambered out to find a bus station with hopes of catching early morning bus to Li Jiang (maybe 8 -10 hours away). We found such bus, unloaded heavy backpacks into its undercarriage, found Chinese breakfast in outdoor canteen and then I wrote this:
White and blue flowers embroider designs directly in front of my face, adorning the small basic chairs in the Li Jiang bus. Meagan and Josh struggle with legs too long in a world manufactured for shorties (such as myself who sits happily comfy). An easy crossword is the entertainment of the moment through Megan zips thru with mind boggling ease leaving Josh and I to puzzle out the odd one or two. The bus fills up with people; babies, grandmothers with ancient faces, young men and women – colorful, bedraggled, simple and honest. Its cold, my fingers stiffen and I consider buying a steaming hot corn cob from the vendor yelling at the front of the bus – his wares displayed in bucket held aloft by strong brown hand. Instead, I sip cold bottle of jasmine tea, feeling chilly though bemused because my curiosity keeps momentary tiredness at bay. We could be at a circus with all the commotion. A yelling man with a cigarette dangling courageously from his lip skuttles in and out, around people with various packages, loud music plays from the small player the young man sitting beside Josh is proud to have produced – cheap classical tunes. We all hope the bus will depart soon, anxious to get to the destination. It is 9am, we have been traveling since yesterday morning – the bus is trying to leave but there is a traffic jam in the bus yard – we are all beginning to feel the effects of traveling, loud music and pressing voices. It is 9:30am – we are still stuck in the bus yard…
Li Jiang (Jan 7th)- *Picture – Looking at Jade Dragon Snow Mountain
So our bus did actually depart to move our intimately packed selves up and away – to mountains and old town of Li Jiang;
I crouch here on a little stool in the small tower pagoda of the rustic hostel – home for the next few days. Yujong Xueshan (Jade Dragon Snow Mountain) rests not far away but directly in my view and the sun shines clear and bold, displaying a sky so blue you could dip your fingers into it. The roofs, jumbling the sky line around me, produce an ancient aura; cow lipped corners upturned in “the old fashion” with an occasional glossy animal figurine resting at the end or middle of the peak – house guardians and good luck ensurers.
The soft breeze is cold, I grasp a covered tea cup to warm my fingers but do not mind so much being away from my two comforter laden bed; cozy indeed but still too hard for my wide hips and softer bed Western upbringing. I am rather crudely hoping this green tea starts things moving in my stuck bowels – constipation is the price one pays for travel and strange food I suppose – and Megan swears by green tea so here I sit and sip.
Last night we arrived off our long bus, happy to be still for a moment. A lady promised us a hostel so we followed her through the maze of narrow streets with cobbled stones smoothed by years of a past peoples treading. The buildings and streets are old but yet, the atmosphere screams modern tourist and the glitz of disneylandia sparkles ominously in every trinket filled shop or restaurant with keepers dressed in traditional Naxi gowns of bright colors – dancing to a music that seems to have been stolen from the dignity of the hills. The Naxi people – 300,000 live here, a minority holding on to its roots in the fragile almost fruitless way by allowing it to become an attraction. Yet, I am a stranger and I do not know – maybe this is the only way? I feel the sorrow that I cannot understand well inside – for the proud glory of a people who mostly remain only in a few stones and that have lost something of their independence – me, a westerner at heart, I cringe to think of lost independence, lost ways. Yet, there is hope for me – a hope that is extended to us – for the mountains and the hills they remember and hold their shape. Yesterday I saw this hope brilliant in an old grandmother with face like bunched up leather, smiling at her full cheeked grandson. Love and memories creased into her face like the wrinkles in the solemn hills we passed. At night I watched them and felt her, wisely tucking the city into bed with full- bodied blue shadows stealing across the valley and over the small dog guarding the roof nearby. Change comes and the new can be garish or serene but still she comes allowing perhaps only the land to remember with all the memories of love and sorrow pressed deep upon it, wearing it down until its Savior comes to renew and bring mighty justice to a fallen world making it whole. That is how I and perhaps she, this old mother, can be at peace and still smile into the red cheeked future, grinning at us like morning from the seat in front.
(Historical Note of Interest gleaned from Lonely Planet China 2005 – Li Jiang old town is the working remains of an ancient city built by the Naxi people (Tibeto-Burman). In 1996 a massive earthquake leveled Li Jiang killing more than 300 and injuring 16,000 but, while most of the new parts of Li Jiang were totaled, the traditional architecture of the Naxi people survived quite well. The Chinese government then spent lots of money rebuilding Li Jiang with the more traditional cobblestone and wood. Also the United Nations, highly impressed by the Naxi architecture, placed Li Jiang County on the World Heritage Site list in 1999 and put a large plaque up in the central square.)
Last Day in Li Jiang (Jan 9th)- Picture * Black Dragon Pond
Our last day in Li Jiang – tonight we take the night sleeper express “busser” (I quote the spelling on the sign) back to Kunming. This morning I woke with the sun – about 8am here – and took off for a walk in the chilly morning. I walked back to Black Dragon Pond – nihaoing to the early rising others also out to catch a bit of exercise in the clean crisp morning. I walked through the park and across/around Elephant Mountain, guarding Black Dragon Pond below, with my face always towards Jade Dragon Snow Mountain – my breathless noble hero. The park ended. I went on past young people waiting for a bus or inspiration or love – just waiting. I found the mountain, standing in glory beside the vegetable patches between tall bushy trees.
We packed – Josh and I wandered around – found temples – bought souvenirs – talked about life. We stopped at Wang Chan Palace and visited a temple – lit incense to watch the young monk, touring us around in a lazy simple fashion, gong the deep bell three times. We left money and gained an odd sense of suspicion or guilt – who knows.
A weathered old man sold us a copy of the Forgotten Kingdom by Peter Guollart and we are currently enjoying milk/yogurt shakes in a little hillside/good view spot that is under roof rehabilitation as we speak. Chunks of concrete rain down a few feet from us but oddly the sense of simple afternoon calm is maintained. Must be the blue sky and lightly warm mountain air that seem to undulate calmness all around.
Yesterday, we rented a shock-less little minivan and froze our way up through the mountains to Tiger Leaping Gorge – 2 ½ hours away. The sun was just coming up – our breath stood still in a cloud before our faces in the morning chill as the Gorge was still in deep shadow. We paid our 65Kuai and headed off – stepping quickly to bring warm blood to frozen toes. It was a well constructed path with long lit tunnels bypassing places with danger of mammoth rocks sliding down to crush innocent sight-seers. Guarding soldiers loitered around in thick green overcoats for our safety or to keep us minding the signs printed with badly translated amusing commands such as, “Notice the rocks slide, please is run about by cliff” and “Forbid throwing the rubbish to the bridge arbitrarily.”
Tiger Leaping Gorge. Inspiring. It is surprisingly deep – 40m average depth of blue clean water which leaps down, becoming a white tiger to surge around a huge boulder. It is the Yangsti river’s chance to come alive. The power overwhelms me and I stand a long moment, mesmerized by the chaos.
We spent the rest of the day driving back home and stopping often to hike about or buy coca-kele from small disorderly stores. The sky remains azure, breaking your heart with its honesty, and the sun drips life blood into the veins. I do not want to leave these mountains.

Kunming – Jan 10th

We arrived in Kunming, capital of Yunnan Province, early this morning after a fitful tight sleep aboard the overnight bus from Li Jiang. Megan, Josh and I were bunched into a three-across bed with me in the narrow middle. Overnight buses support 3 rows of narrow bunk beds, 2 levels high, blankets included with bathroom in the middle. We each took one of Megan’s miracle Thai bought motion-sickness pills and rather passed out, dozing in and out of uncomfortable positions. Thankfully this made the drive pass quickly but we were none too happy to be dumped at the Kunming bus station before the sun had even awaken, leaving us to catch a taxi to the Camilia Hotel – a place recommended to us. Sadly, we arrived at said hotel only to find a disgruntled traveling woman screaming at the desk attendants and when we, hesitantly, inquired for a triple room we were given a very high price – too high for our short budgets. We trudged around, grumpy and laden, to find a nearby place – the price was a bit better but the staff less-than-welcoming and the added bed to the small double room, very uncomfortable.
I was feeling very overwhelmed, out of sorts, so I took a hot shower whilst Megan and Josh napped and then set out in the thickening dawn to a small café I had spied earlier. Now I sit here in cozy ‘City Café’, drinking milky Yunnan coffee, happily surprised by a wonderful breakfast of fried spicy tomatoes, eggs and a thick slice of brown toast. I relax into my book Hearing Birds Fly and am now able to greet the morning appropriately.
Kunming – Jan 13th Picture * Xi Shan
Today we leave Kunming – Josh and I heading to Shenzhen and then Hong Kong to hop our morning flight to Jakarta, Indonesia. Megan leaves for Thailand.
Josh and I have both come down with head colds so we are sniffling about drinking mass quantities of hot water with a comical zeal. We have checked out of our little hotel with the staff that seems always stressed out – staring into their little screens and speaking rapidly to hand held radios. Now we early await apple pie and coffee to celebrate our last day together.
Yesterday Josh took a break and stayed home to sleep and recover leaving Megan and I free to have a rather needed ‘girls day’ – (it has been a bit stressful lately in our 3’s-a-crowd group.) Megan and I left around 11am, caught at No. 5 bus and stepped right off to find a bus to XiShan (Western Mountains) immediately to our left. Pleased, we hopped on to find an amusing couple in charge – smiling swerving man as driver and ponytailed, sunhat topped, rosy cheeked woman yelling out the door with golden voice – searching for potential passengers. San Kuai to XiShan!!! Indeed. We climbed up and around the mountain, winding around hairpin turns and walking people. XiShan contains 12 Taoists palaces to different deities – some carved right out of the rock by a highly devoted monk hanging by fingertips to chisel intricate designs into the mountains. The view is breathtaking – though the breath-less-ness might be attributed to the steep stairs and continuous climbing up to see each palace.
The day before we had paid too much for a car to take us to the puzzling land of the Stone Forest to visit the less known Black Hills, which turned out to be a disaster as we were not allowed into the park. We took a few steps in to a peaceful stone forest looking park and keepers came to shoo us out, then, as we were sullenly debating what to do our driver decided we had finished touring and prepared to take us straight back to Kunming – probably thinking this was a grand deal for him, refusing to take us to the very popular tourist sight we had been trying to avoid due to a 140kuai entrance fee. Tempers certainly flared and grumpies set in but, after losing a good deal of Chinese face (a cultural disaster) he agreed to take us to the other park for no extra.
We arrived, got in for a little less due to non-expiring Student Cards from universities, and sat down to a little picnic – unwinding from our tense encounter to enjoy the amazing sights towering around us like craggy buccaneers. Stone Forest is a puzzling collection of boulders, tall and sharp, that seem to have been belched up by the deep sea and flung around upon a rolling meadow to stand at attention like fingers poking up at the sky. It is surreal and one can get lost within the maze of paths and steps constructed on and around the stones. We trekked as long as possible, frustrated that our taxi driver had insisted we return at an early hour, but then returning on time to find him leisurely washing his car leaving us to sit and wait. Oh how traveling can test the patience!
All in all, as we sit here to drink coffee and munch on flaky apple pie with rich homemade icecream, we agreed our travel together through Southern China was good. Please check out our pictures on my flickr site at www.flickr.com/photos/myawheeler/ Soon, I will post more about the next part of our travels to Indonesia and beyond…so stay tuned dear readers.

Travels

2008-01-04T08:03:00.001-08:00

Today Josh, Megan and I head off into the wild blue of the vast land of Asia! We will be traveling with Megan around some epic places in Southern China for about 2 weeks then Josh and I squirrel over to Hong Kong to catch a flight to Indonesia. There we will adventure around with Josh's two sisters, Cora and Malyssa (Malyssa is teaching English there through the SALT program). Two and a half weeks later we will head back to Hong Kong for a bit and then make our crazy way up to Shandong province to spend Chinese New Years with with my student, good friend and Chinese teacher, Fengze. Then home home home. It is intimidating but exciting and I will work my best to find my writing inspiration and leave more bits of news as we go along!

Christmas

2008-01-02T08:16:00.000-08:00

It is Christmas day evening; I am full of sugar, sleepy, worn out. It has been an exhausting couple of weeks with a roller coaster of ups and downs. Last week I gave exams which means giving points and methodically going through each student, asking questions, to try and determine their oral English proficiency (or not). That was and is hard for me – I struggle to put numbers on an experience…arbitrary numbers. This week was Christmas. Perhaps I should say, this month was Christmas and being in a country that does not celebrate Christmas, other than as a good opportunity to hang up overly gaudy tinsel and creepy looking Santas and entice the consumer to buy, is was a very trying month and past week or so. I discovered the Christmas child within; the little Mya that anticipated Christmas with whole hearted mystery, whose Christmas trees held magic and wonder, whose joy of going to Grandma's house was surpassed by no other occasion in the year. It is a unique cultural holiday that contains music, sights, smells, tastes, parties…etc. Yet, give or take all that, the part that I missed the most was the family.

It was my very first Christmas without my mom, dad, brother and sister. Right now, they are all in Denver with the whole group on my mother's side and I remain in China; the only one not there. I spent a lot of the week in tears, contemplating my priorities that often take me away and away and away from those people and places I am slowly learning are the best, the best, and the best of me.

Still, I am glad to say I was not alone, in any sense. I have made new and delightful wondrous friends here. My inbox is packed with little emails wishing me "happy Christmas…most prosperous and good wishes for the new year….happy everywhere," and all other kinds of oddly stated best wishes from all my thoughtful amazing students. Then Sommer and I (she is studying Chinese from Colorado) spent Christmas Eve making supper, chatting the evening away and even reading the Christmas story together. This morning I had Christmas coffee with Yoko and opened presents with Megan, Millie and Bethany. We made lunch together and then ate cinnamon buns I had made (a family tradition). The evening was spent at Sommer's new apartment at a Christmas party of sorts with her classmates and teachers (Russians, Koreans, Chinese, Iranian and us N Americans) just talking in all types of languages and eating everything from cheese to a gingerbread house. At the end of the day I feel full and amazed at the simple goodness around me and so happy to have made even more new friends. Next semester promises to be good!

Yes, made it through Christmas but the question remains on my heart – what do I go away from when I go and what do I gain? It is a heavy one especially as I consider my students, my friends, my relationship with Josh, my bits of Chinese…etc. All these things are good. Being away from Josh has been so difficult but in so many ways so good. I have had a chance to be a teacher and reap the joy that comes from this noble profession. Yet, today my family sits together - crazy and quirky as we all are, all the imperfections and awkwards together - and honestly it breaks my heart to be missing it. Unexplainable really, but I just feel, strong within myself, the desire to just be close.

So this little blog is dedicated to you all; Mom, dad, Nat, Caleb, Aunt Tina, Jesse, Aunt Rachel, Uncle Jay, Jenny, Aunt Betsy, Uncle Bruce, Ellen, Rita (and Sean!), and Grandpa Melvin – I love you and miss you all! Shengdan Kuaile! From China!

Birthday Photos

2007-12-29T11:32:00.000-08:00

24 years and a Visit from Dad

2007-12-29T11:24:00.000-08:00

It's funny. The spell check on my word processor does not recognize the word, 'blog.' I wonder if the updated version does…

Monday, sometime after midnight I completed 24 years of being alive in western cultural standard time. In China, because a baby is alive in the mother tummy (so I was told), I would actually say I am in my 25th year. The thick lime green mug in front of me stains my tongue red with an infusion of raspberry goodness; a birthday gift from Bethany. To my left a small bottle of Brer Rabbit Mild Flavor Molasses joins a red balloon with a cut out construction paper stem hoping to pass itself off as a tomato to remind me of my favorite nickname, tomato face, christened to me by Utuq after observing me huffing and puffing after a jog. On my right a happy plant reaches its little arms all directions in a tall dark pot wrapped with ribbon and warmth. All gifts. Gifts from good new friends who took the time to make dinner for me (Megan and Yoko), decorate, invite several others (Gulambar, Utuq, ZouYen, Summer, Bethany) and then laugh over a more than lively game of UNO.

Early in the week I had received a guest also bearing sweet and dear to my heart, tidings and gifts from another continent. My dad came to stay last Thursday evening, taking a train Sunday evening to work on the greenhouse in Hunchun. It was a whirlwind trip of wakefulness at all crazy hours mixed with jetlag naps and bouts of caffeine-laden drinks to stall the sleepy.

All week I prepared and talked about the arrival of my dad with my students, so by the time Thursday rolled around I was even receiving text messages welcoming him here and wishing me happiness (of course). The big question of the day was, how to get to the airport and back? Harbin airport is situated, conveniently, way outside of Harbin to, as one of my students decided, "keep the sound from bothering the city people." (Honestly, I wondered if this construction burden city would even notice a plane flying over.) Figuring it all out took a bit of back and forth. Of course, there was the taxi but then one could be sure of high prices, there was a bus but the last one left from Harbin at 7pm, there was the idea of going and hanging out for 4 hours before my dad arrived but my students then insisted on going to accompany me and I just wasn't sure if that would be so fun (love my students but that is a long wait). Finally, dear Li Peng (from the Hunchun bus trip) came through again and found a car service that would take us and bring us back for a great price! We (because he still insisted upon coming) hopped in and went off for the 40 min trip out because we went the slow- but-cheap route, which bypassed the tollbooth by meandering through some back villages and orchards. In China, some things, like long underwear time, heater turn on time, and time zone in general, are not negotiable and most people simple accept and adjust. Other things, like regulations concerning copy write and obviously overpriced tollbooths are simple put to the side, respectfully but with precision that always brings a smile to my lips.

And so my dear dad arrived, accompanied me to class the next morning to the joy of my favorite students. We were playing Jeopardy review in class and dad was the happy host, whitening his fingers with chalk to keep track of all the points. The most interesting moment was when I brought dad to the foot massage place where he was quite happily surprised (after a bit of apprehension) to have his feet massaged for the first time in his life!

Yes, of course, the stay was too short and Sunday night came before it should have but thankfully my friend Utuq was there to help us maneuver the huge railway station in Harbin. We were able to accompany my dad into the waiting room; a tall ceiling hazy with cigarette smoke, dust and the muted colors of many people packed tight together with various articles of luggage and box, then down to the platform to actually board the train. It is quite the squeeze as the open the doors to go to the platform about 10 minutes before departure so the scramble was a wee bit intense and the send-off overly short, but there he went. I received a message mid morning telling me he arrived safely into the Hunchun farm. Oh dad.

Being Cold or Overly Properly Clothed

2007-11-21T13:30:00.000-08:00

The cold fall arrived in Harbin and settled her dry cold self into my
toes, hands and every building I spent time in (including my
apartment). For a while the heat was not turned on anywhere because
the Chinese heating system follows dates on calendar. The Moon takes
precedence over Cold and so the time-of-the-long-underwear and the
time-of-the-radiator comes when he dictates and neither the warmth of
Sun nor the chill of North Wind can persuade otherwise. The long
underwear comes out just after the Mid-Autumn Festival and, without
fail, my students layer on the wool under thick pants and puffy winter
coats. The body is not to get cold and the translation for an upset
stomach is a cold stomach. Unfortunately, I have the quirky body of
my father with ice feet and hands that do not cooperate regardless of
how I dress. Nicely then, I am forever told how cold hands mean a
warm heart, which comforts but at times I could do with a bit less
extreme for either organ. It causes me endless frustration to be
either sweating in my big winter coat or freezing in a thinner
windbreaker so usually I just go through endless
taking-off-and-putting-back-on to regulate my jumpy body temperature.
It is a little shocking to my overly protective students though to
see me arrive all in a huff and promptly strip down to short sleeves
to begin the class, fussing about how warm the room is; they wouldn't
be caught dead in short sleeves in winter unless they were planning to
work out in a warmed gym…and even then I am not sure they would go so
far. I do not jest; a thin almost hose type layer, then a thick wool
layer, then the jeans, then the long puffy coat. I have seen knitted
knickers an inch thick underneath heavy sweaters and my longjohn lack
is probably just as concerning to them.

Anyway, the radiator underneath each windowsill finally came on
the end of October during a rather cold spell and we were all
overjoyed to be able to sit in our rooms and feel warm. Of course,
occasionally they really crank up the water heat (or something) and we
all put on tanktops and shorts and forget that it is –9C outside until
the wind hits our face and our warm pampered faces wonder if they
should have hibernated in the sauna room of the apartment forever.
Yesterday, joy of joys, it snowed (xue in Chinese)! Suddenly,
winter has arrived with her blanket of white to shield the poor bare
swept earth. I wonder some if I mourn a bit during the time between
the glory of harvest and the sleep of winter. The bare ground and
stripped trees seem so cold and tired of life; I feel tired of life
too. The sun spends less and less time with the forsaken north and my
heart understands those ancient people that gave great sacrifices to
urge the sun to come back and not abandon them. Yet, the moment those
fluffy white specks hit the ground and energy changes; winter has come
and, be it only an inch of frozen dry white, it is an inch of white
and it makes all the difference to my sensitive soul. So…I am over
exaggerating but truly I am learning the simple joys are the sweetest
and most healing. Yeah for xue!

The Long-Trip Bus

2007-10-18T09:56:00.000-07:00

About 3 weeks before Golden Week I had already decided I wanted to visit Hunchun but I was beginning to worry because the implications of a whole country on vacation was dawning on me concerning the travel. Of course, it just so happened that during my second day of office hours a student came to visit me who just so happened to be from Hunchun. Seriously. Considering the fact that my students are from all across China the probability of that happening is pretty scarce so it was a rather beautiful moment and I still feel inspired thinking about it.

My student was thrilled and promised to help me figure out transportation suggesting that I opt for the Hunchun bus instead of braving the overcrowded train that would only get me to Tumen (45 min drive from the farm). From this point on everything was taken care of by Li Peng and I didn't do anything besides continue to assure him that whatever happened I was fine and he needn't worry. In the end, the bus was sold out (you can only buy the ticket the day before or of) but his sister's friend was a relative of the bus driver (oh connections in China!) SO of course there would be a seat for me, somehow! It is amazing.

I packed my Josh and Wiens family hiking backpack (thanks you all!!!) and headed out with Li Peng around 3:30pm on that Friday wondering if I was going to go or not but perfectly happy either way. The bus was a Long-Trip bus; which means a bus with bunk beds instead of seats. Yep. Pretty cool. You get in, take off your shoes and deposit them in a little bag to take with you and then sort of shimmy down either the left or right hand aisle two bunks high for each row. The beds are narrow and just barely long enough for me so about average Chinese height. Each holds a mattress and a thick blanket with a small rectangle pillow filled with some kind of bean or bead and there is just enough room to sit up and only have to bend your head a little. I wouldn't recommend it for a very claustrophobic person.

I boarded the bus and was given the farthest bunk in the back corner, due to some switching around to allow the pitiful foreigner (that's me) a real seat instead of something less official. I protested and tried to point out that I was strong and would be fine anywhere, not wanting to deny someone of a seat, but seeing as my Chinese is only as good as my awkward waving gestures and facial expressions…well, it didn't work. By this point in my time in Harbin I was pretty exhausted and so even remembering the word for yes or no (there is actually no single word for no) was beyond my capabilities. I just sat back, smiled at the giggling staring people (mostly women) around me and ate some dates from a ziplock baggy. It was pretty exciting till I realized I would eventually have to pee and the thought of climbing through everything, trying to ask where or how to use the toilet, going out in the very cold somewhere and probably squatting in the dark all the time sort of worried that they would leave without me (I'm over paranoid at times)…was a bit too much to handle. I just kept falling asleep waking up to the nearly full moon staring at me and my face almost frozen due to the draft from the window by my head. The bus stopped about 3 times, for about 10 minutes each by the side of the road and I jealously watched the guy beside me jump out and return in a very short amount of time, probably feeling very comfortable and relieved.

I was told we were to arrive at about 4AM so at about 2:30 I had gathered up courage (or enough discomfort to be mistaken as courage) to prepare the big dive into the unknown world of "the rest stop," when all the lights came on and everyone else starting gathering their stuff and piling up blankets. So we had arrived! Unhappily for me the trip did not actually end until 2 hours later due to Timothy's car breaking down, but the managing woman took good care of me allowing me to stay in the bus after we spent a confusing amount of time communicating that (on my part) I didn't need a taxi because someone was coming and (on her part) that I should stay in the bus and sleep to keep warm. I was so excited and awake I opted to sit in the front of the bus till I begin to feel the chill creeping into my bones and the bus lady's urging for me to get into a bed under a pile of blankets became more than just a request but rather like an order. In the end Timothy asked me to take a taxi, gave him directions over my cell phone and I arrived. Cold, desperately excited to use the bathroom and not quite ready for the sun to come up but there she was; already peeping over the horizon.

Guess what. I caught a cold. Go figure.

The trip home was much nicer because by then I was rested (sick but brain rested) and more confident of asking questions. Also, the bus was only half full and I got a seat way up front with a thicker blanket. We even stopped for dinner this time where I ate very spicy soup and managed to find a bathroom (yes I was entertaining but that comes with the leaving of the comfort zone to travel; you end up either frustrating or amusing people so it is good to be on the happier side).

Coming back to Dorm A-13 and banging on the door to wake the night guard (my dorm has a midnight curfew) was actually a comfortable returning. I remembered how a few weeks ago I arrived in the middle of the night scared and homesick. This night I walked into the courtyard and looked up to see the moon and the bright stars of the constellation Orion and in one moment the city was not so bad and home was at the top of 16 floors with friends down the hall.

Going to the Farm – Mid Autumn Festival and the Golden Week

2007-10-17T21:28:00.000-07:00

Mid Autumn Festival. Moon cakes: some only slightly better than Christmas fruitcake, some worse, some delightfully yummy. I personally prefer the sesame or red bean filled ones. They come in all sizes, but always round and always bearing the ingredient inside in Chinese character on the top (no help to the illiterate me). The Mid Autumn Festival celebrates the harvest moon and is a time for eating moon cakes with your family while looking up at the full moon is a park or backyard. My students brought me several bunches of these always surprises cakebits and, as a foreign teacher, the international affairs office of HIT always gifted us with a beautiful tin case filled with only the most expensive moon cakes in Harbin. Strangely enough the most expensive moon cake is a sort of sugary bean filling surround a whole hard-boiled egg yolk (I am assuming the yolk resembles the full moon?). I didn't mind the surrounding filling but the dry egg yolk was less than exciting. I enjoyed the less expensive varieties. I was told that some of them have meat but thankfully none have yielded such delicacies (to my relief).

Golden Week. National Holidays in China. Three times a year the whole country (almost) goes on vacation for a week (maybe longer over the Chinese New Year) and though government is working to change this, it is a time-honored tradition and was ever present during the most recent Golden Week. A country of 1 billion people all going on vacation, a country of exceedingly mobile people all traveling to somewhere, wreaks a bit of havoc on transportation systems (which consequentially do not get vacation at this time).

I too decided to seize my chance of a lifetime to see a little bit of China's countryside and also to visit a family and farm where my father has been working the past couple years. The "small" town of Hunchun (only the size of Winnipeg) is also called the Last Stop because it is literally in the corner of China between the ominous shoulder of Russia and cold front of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea (DPRK).

I was visiting the Shell family of Timothy and Naomi and their 4 "eager beavers" of Mary Frances, Ruth Anna, Miriam and little Lyte. They live and manage a farm there consisting of all sorts of cows, sheep, pigs, chickens, a few dogs, lots of cats and a beautiful bunch of hills covered in pine and aspen like trees. I am sure there are more things but I was a little confused about who managed what and where and, as I was sort of delighting in long walks in the clean air and a very exciting new family to hang out with, I chose to relax rather than be inquisitive. (I can always ask questions next visit). It was a wonderful visit! I spent lots of time baking with Naomi and reading books to the family (yes the whole family listened to me read Prince Caspian and the Magician's Nephew and yes I did get hoarse). We spent a day with a few other families out in the country near to another town called Yanji picking pingguoli (apple-pears) and looking for 'pretty' rocks. The girls are also avid collectors of all sorts of rocks that end up in piles and jars various places.

Yes, those are sparse details but really the most exciting part of my Golden Week experience was, as I was mentioning before, the travel there and back….

Thanksgiving in Canada

2007-10-08T11:06:00.000-07:00

Today is (well was for me now) Thanksgiving day in Canada. The past three years I have spent this holiday in the glorious home of my friend Judi. Far and beautiful, tucked into north-western Ontario on a bit of an island called McKenzie. It is always a time full of deep talks, canoes across crinkled waters, numerous cups of strong black tea swallowed in evaporated milk and honey, dancing while cooking frenzies, and (my specialty) the gathering of leaves and harvest field beauties to adorn the Thanksgiving table.

Yes, I am sad to miss my very dear holiday with some very dear friends.

So to commemorate this Canadian Thanksgiving far from home but ever still thankful I have decided to devote a blog to all the amazing things in my life right now.

A hurrah for green things! My fingers and eyes seek out the clinging green on waving branches, drinking up that precious colour now more than ever for soon it will be only found on pictures and in my mind's reserves. The few spots of yellow and red or purple flowers also get special attention and yes, I stop often to be the odd curly haired crazy sniffing up great breaths of sweet marigold or fading rose. It is a trick Josh and I have been testing this past year; stopping to smell all the flowers to live longer or happier on a natural flowery sort of high (better on the lungs).

China! It still has yet to sink in. I cannot seem to grasp how I wanted to travel and then: zing! Bam! Here I am. Although, globalization seems to creep up on me and I often wonder if this is actually Winnipeg with a Chinese flavor or China with a Winnipegish sort of flavor? I feel concerned that all cities might feel a bit like that and I am confused as to whether to enjoy feeling at home or be annoyed that I can never really leave. (I need to think more on this one.)

Josh! Family! Friends! If home is where the heart is than my heart just keeps getting bigger. I could elaborate but then I would never stop. It is good simply to be in awe of the cup of friendship that continues to overflow.

Water in large bottles and kind, patient people that understand me when I fumble in Chinese and bring me a new bottle when I finish one. Vegetables and fruits from kind and patient vendors with wooden carts on the street side. Too many kinds of rice and things to add to rice for me to tell the difference and only one kind of flour. Hot baked yams right out of the steel drum on the corner. Tea of the green, black, whole flower varieties and then some. Yellow and green colored chalk that remains on fingers and migrates to everything else. Strong wind that stirs up dust and blood to cool whipped faces in the struggle to walk in the dazzling autumn sunshine of the sweet morning. Runners that cushion the happy simple plodding of early morn jogs. Recognizing a character on sign, understanding and being understood when speaking Chinese. Recognizing a student's face and almost remembering a name and sort of saying it right. Sitting for a moment of silence and suddenly forgetting to hear the construction banging outside. Skype connections clearer than telephone; communication that goes beyond words.

It is good to be thankful.

Teaching English – Master's Oral English

2007-10-08T11:03:00.000-07:00

Ah yes. The thing I came to Harbin to do: teach English. I have now completed 3 weeks of classes and am officially a laoshi or teacher. Seven times a week I teach the same 2-hour class to about 25 to 30 students each time. In total I have almost 200 delightful students each with a beautiful Chinese name I am attempting (!*!) to memorize and learn to say in a way that is at least somewhat near to correct. It's a wonderful sort of disaster that only remains bearable with lots of laughs and forgiving patience!

The course I teach is designed to improve the listening and speaking skills for students learning English as most of them can read and write very well but when it comes to the more productive (listening and speaking) aspects of the language they are less confident and able. My job is to get them speaking. Easy right?

Well, in some ways. The greatest blessing so far in my arrival to Harbin is that this course is already planned out! Megan, an English teacher from Arkansas who has been here for a year already, is teaching the exact same course and she has all the lesson plans, worksheets and overheads for the whole semester. YES! They are done and all I have to do is look over them, figure out how to make sense of what I say and do and copy off the worksheets to hand out! The hard part comes only when I step into class each morning.

So there I am four mornings a week; walking over to the building, scurrying up the steps to gather the little plastic box with a key to open the computer and a remote to turn on the projector (the rooms are fully equipped), then stepping into the corner room full of large windows partially covered by dusty drapes and solid long wooden desks. Usually I arrive about five minutes before and the class is already there; studying, chatting softly, and (yep) basically just waiting for me. It is all rather awkward still and oddly frightening. It is considered quite a privilege to have a native English speaker as your teacher, which creates quite a celebratory sort of gap that I have yet to really break down. (Hopefully that will come with time.) Yet, I have definitely settled into a nice routine which is much more comfortable to me than that first week of teaching. It was crazy! Trying to get everyone's names, figure out who is supposed to be in the class, being too soft and allowing several auditing students (grrr), trying to explain all the policies and such in a simple slow sort of way and probably failing miserably, since I tend to talk fast when I get excited. Of course, things still don't quite gel all the time and I have many lessons to learn. Many.

My respect and awe of those in teaching positions grows by the minute…

Morning in Harbin

2007-10-08T10:51:00.000-07:00

China lives all in one time zone: Beijing time. It is handy for traveling and calling long distance across China, to be sure, but it does have quite an effect on the rising and the setting of the sun on those living east and west of Beijing. In Harbin the sun peeps it head over the horizon around 5am or so. I do not actually know the exact time because I prefer to have my eyes and curtains shut at this time of the morning. The afternoon is when the difference is more noticeable as the setting sun begins to draw long shadows in the dust and concrete by 3:30pm or so and by 6pm it is pretty much dark with a few stars. This makes it entirely convenient, then, to do everything early. Indeed, we eat lunch at 11 or 11:30 with dinner beginning at 4 or so (because it can last a long time I am told). Yoko and I joke about eating lunch by mid morning or else we won't be ready in time to have dinner!

Ah, but the current joy of my morning is the jog I have been going on in the morning with the whole of Harbin. There is a football (soccer and such) stadium right next to the dormitory building, which opens for public use from 5:30am to 7:30am (Or as Guodong has said, half-ah-past-ah 5 to half-ah-past-ah 7). So I have been quite the early bird and will get myself out there to jog a few laps with a great number of everyone. Its great! Mostly men go to jog but there are some women, children and older folks mingled about, stretching, walking, jogging at a nice slow 'Mya' sort of pace.

So, yes I had been enjoying this very energizing routine of about 6 or 7 laps before rushing home to run up the stairs, shower and run out the door for class at 8. THEN one morning a student asked me if would want to try running around the nearby park/zoo. It was delicious! There are people everywhere at that time of the morning, aerobics classes on the lawn, women practicing fan and/or sword dancing, people doing some kind of martial arts, choirs practicing, bands trumpeting…etc! What a treat! It is like the day of a big happy marathon, but every day. I get excited just thinking about it….can't wait till tomorrow…

Hello hello hello

2007-09-30T02:48:00.000-07:00

Hello hello helllo! To all who check this blog and find few new posts...be of good cheer! A small storm is brewing but is not to be released until my return from a small farm near the town of Hunchun in the Jilin Province. I leave there today for retreat, for small mountains, for fresh air untainted by exhaust of too many taxis honking and too many construction workers constructing, for the the farm where my father has been working the past couple of years. No, I will not see my father, he works from afar but I will meet colleagues of his and new friends of mine.
I do promise to be posting about my most interesting and delightful (though tiring) students and several other random but welcome adventures of mine. So rest in anticipation dear friends!

Oh! And a belated very happy Mid Autumn Day (Tuesday the 25 of Sept) to all you who appreciate the lunar calendar! Yeah Moon Cakes!

A blog for Josh

2007-09-20T09:56:00.001-07:00

Ah this blog. I have been neglecting it. I feel like my brain and inspiration are getting sucked into a giant vacuum, thus the blog has suffered. My students are numerous but great. Sweet, eager to learn, but so many names and faces. New names, new faces, new words, new sounds. Culture shock does not have to come in the form of strange food, strange customs, strange living arrangements – instead it has come in the form of a classroom, which is an entirely different world that exists all over the world and I admit my utter ignorance of such a place. I will talk in depth about the classroom soon, when I have the words.

I have been having severe sleeping trouble. This can be attributed to stress, overdose of good strong green and jasmine tea and my inability to stop thinking, ever. Yet, it is more than that. A long-distance relationship. Somehow those words do brutal injustice to what is the struggle and difficulty of living, separated by land, water and time, from the person you feel most connected. How can it be described, knowing that other piece of yourself hurts and you cannot sit by their side? How can you communicate sympathy and support with words typed inside a text box or said across an echo-ey phone line?

Chinese is a difficult language but there are teachers and books and rules. The language of love across rivers, mountains, oceans, wind, and time is harder. It is more illusive. When you cannot communicate it breaks the heart and the body cannot rest because everything feels out of place.

When I write, I try to speak to a group. To find words and connections that make sense to a larger crowd than just myself. This experience however, is only my own. Being away from Josh, from someone whom I have learned and grown with in the past year, is more difficult for me then being in China and teaching, though I have never done either.

So this blog today is a gift. A 'silent' admission to you, Joshua Daniel Wiens. I will see you when you get here and hopefully I will sleep a couple nights before then.

The Grand Tour

2007-09-16T20:47:00.001-07:00

It is a special privilege you know, to be totally out of synch with everybody else, to be unable to speak or listen, to be the 'foreign teacher.' So privileged, in fact, that it merits us to be formally introduced, given decorous gifts and then carted around to partake the campus of HIT and Harbin city sights.

Friday morning, for some unknown reason, we met Guodong in the downstairs lobby at 7:40. Why so early? No one could figure it out but there we all sat in the white van at 7:40 sharp, proceeded to wait 15 mins and then drove approximately 2 minutes to arrive at our first destination of the main building (more or less a 5 minute walk away). We were ushered into a lovely conference room, photographed like celebrities, given gifts and formally welcomed. We then spent a mildly interesting time learning about the history of HIT.

In the early 1900's Harbin was a small sleepy town in Northern China, jolted awake to industry by the extension of the Trans-Siberian Railroad. HIT was founded at that time by the Russians to study railway engineering and other such fields. The first president was Russian and so were most of the small graduating class. Later it was handed over to Chinese guidance, expect for the period during the Japanese occupation. Today an expanded HIT boasts of being of the top ten universities in China with campuses in three different provinces of China. (Guodong said the other two places but I missed them, apologies!) Of course, the focus remains focused on technology but they also have departments for different languages, alas there are no International Development, Politics or Art in general majors at HIT. Languages like French, Russian, Japanese and English are studied for the purpose of basically going into business with a multi-national or becoming a professor. An interesting note; being a professor in China is regarded as a most prestigious office and this job is prized above most professions. I find this refreshing and want to pass on their love and respect to the many teachers in Canada and the US that suffer from lack of appreciation.

The rest of our tour was dry and most spent in the van with the soft spoken Guodong explaining each passing building to an increasingly uninterested bunch, I am sorry to say. So I will finish with one last point of interest; it is mandatory for every first year university student to go through two weeks of military training. On second campus we saw sidewalks full of camouflage clad young men and women practicing forming lines and standing straight with childlike nervousness and uncertainty. It appears to me an uncomfortable and unwise sort of union; education to military service, but it is in no way uncommon or unusual. (Mentally, I note it as something to examine if I ever decide to take up my small bachelor's thesis again for a masters.)

Teaching English

2007-09-09T10:49:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I will walk into a room full of 24 students and become a teacher. It is a bit of a deja vu experience for me because last Monday I thought would be my first day of teaching. In fact, I was totally prepared: powerpoint on flash drive, handouts copied and arranged in new clear plastic folder, and lack of sleep due to nervousness clearly painted on my anxious face. The department was very clear that we would begin September 3^rd, so there I was at 8AM Monday morning. Actually, I was early (a feat considering my usually close to late appearances) and had declared myself as teacher by spreading my stuff over the front desk and asking a student if they could please find the key to open the computer. (Remember, students often study in their classrooms.) Almost everyone vacated the room expect for one student who, speaking very little English, came up to my desk looking very confused. I asked him to locate his name on my class list, which he did reluctantly, all the time trying very hard to tell me something about Week 3. I, the very anxious to start class teacher, told him not to worry things would make sense soon.

Well, 8AM sort of came around and still I had no students. I was feeling a bit concerned about the only three students helping me to get the key to the computer, when one of the girls realized she was in the class next door (also an English class taught by Branson not me). I checked the room number on my list. Yes, room 115. Yes, that was the number above the door to the classroom. Then, hallelujah!, there was Miho in the next room! She noticed my confusion, plus the two students trying hard to explain something to me in fragmented English words, promptly came and spoke in Chinese with the students. "Oh Mya," she says, "the students say they have this class but on their schedule and on the board in front it says it does not start until next week, the 3^rd week." What? Oh bother. I thanked the students, told them I would figure it out and see them next week or something and went home to make some frantic calls.

Eventually, I did get in contact with Leslie and Guan (our liaisons with the graduates department) who literally patted me on the head, comforting me for my strange first day, and explained I actually did not start till Week 3. A mixed sort of relief: happy to be free to adjust a bit more but also upset I couldn't just get the first week over and done.

So, indeed, I have had the week to adjust and sleep a bit which has been a very good thing. I do have to work a week later in December, which does mean working over Christmas (though I get that one day off), but over all I appreciated my time. Honestly, I did not get half the things done I had hoped but I now have a bamboo plant in my living room and a working hot plate. I consider those accomplishments not to be taken lightly. J

And, tomorrow I will become a teacher. I am scared, frightened, excited and probably too confident for my own good. The lesson will be fairly easy, it is the names I am most concerned about.

I actually have a small rant I would like to share here (you can bear with me or just pretend I finished with the above paragraph): Ok, I do not want to give English names. That concept does not sit well with me and I have felt frustrated this week with all the talk of English names and bringing books to help people choose, and not letting students pick things like 'rainbow' or 'sky-bird.' Well why not!? But most of all, why are the names they have not good enough? What is an English name? How it is so different? Yes, of course it will be difficult to remember everyone's name, especially because Chinese pronunciation is very complicated for newbies. Bah! I am bad with names as it is and learning some 200 new student's names is going to be a bigger challenge than learning rudimentary Chinese, but I truly pledge to do so to my best abilities. OK. So maybe I am over-reacting but, unless a student is very insistent on using the name they choose for themselves in English, I will use their name given to them by their parents. (If anyone has any thoughts or advice on this for me PLEASE email me! I would appreciate the encouragement.)

Zaijiang! (Goodbye minus some accents for the pinyin). More Later!

Sunday Morning - The Streets of Harbin

2007-09-07T11:02:00.000-07:00

Take the elevator, 16 floors down, students get on, we all get off. Walk through the glass doors, around the corner and through the streets of HIT and surrounding neighborhood. A wooden cart filled with various fruit, some in piles, some in boxes neatly wrapped in netted foam and brought in from the south or farther. Another cart, stacks of corn and corn husks piled all around. A large boiling pot of steamed corn besides a pot of coals, a woman roasting corn, one by one on skewers. 2 yuan a roasted corn. 15 yuan for 10 peaches, now sliced and freezing in my little fridge. Stay on or close to the uneven dusty side walk, walking around each tree. The taxis, cars and buses heed their own call and not the signs on the road, nor the people skittering about. Signs everywhere in Chinese characters, I recognize a sign for water but the rest dart the concrete landscape like decoration and do not help me determine the within. The railroad tracks run a block from the HIT gates by my dorm. The train comes by; little guards in blue suits come out to ensure traffic, human and gas-powered, heed the lights and dropped post. A man in a skull cap, perhaps Muslim from western China, roasts skewers of all kinds of meat on the sidewalk in front of his shop. Here, an old man enjoys a trim from an impromptu corner barber while a anxious looking lady supervises. Here, a couple youths strip plastic off large white window frames. Stiff, serious faced ladies and gentlemen walk slowly about under both gentle willow leaves and sharp banging of the nearest high rise, less welcoming perhaps but currently faster growing. Mist, pervades to soften the noise and the dirt, for a moment there is hush. Even the, "ugh ugh ugh," of the wise women doing morning tai chi, is quieted. The black canal, loosing a few pieces of trash to a freshly clad young woman sweeping with a net, remains, as ever, black and unmoving. Every tree, thin or thick, painted with a white substance, create a manicured appearance and keep bugs off. Swooping small birds, brown and black, careen across the well-kept lawn, snatching at these unfortunate bugs left on the ground. It is a morning of tradition, yet a morning of tomorrow. Walking 'home,' I sense an unease that is not uncomfortable. An adjusting taking place at a rapid pace but not unwelcome. If these are the streets of Harbin, perhaps they are also a small face of China. I wonder.

Thus ends my Sunday morning walk. (I enjoyed it, did you?)

The Manhattan Market

2007-09-05T06:34:00.000-07:00

Thursday Miho (Japanese teacher) was kind enough to take Yoko and I to the wholesale market called Manhattan. I must assure you, the pronunciation of Manhattan is an entirely different thing and it was only when I saw it written down that I realized. Sounds more like "Mahaadeen." In any case, the only resemblance to the New York island is that it is packed full of way too many of everything.

The first floor is the most random floor where you can purchase anything from soap to huge decorative furniture. Second floor mostly household items from window blinds to bathroom fixtures and third floor holds media devices, cookware and things like leather massage chairs and wrinkle free steamers for clothes. Large furniture like couches, wicker chairs and dining sets make the fourth floor much quieter. A good place to go for a bit of rest before taking on the first floor!

Thank goodness for Miho! She easily maneuvered us around (she speaks Chinese very well) and helped us to purchase a rice cooker, dish drainers and bright coloured shower curtains to enliven that drab sticky space. The difficulty is in the bargaining. One never accepts the first price but must always bargain down a bit to get to something more sane. This is the hardest part for me. I have listened and listen to the Chinese numbers but for some reason they are not sticking in my brain. Furthermore, trying to think of many numbers in a very short time, calculate the difference in $US so I have a vague idea of what I might be spending, WHILE trying to discern what is a good price and what is too high when even a DVD player is maybe stated at Yuan 200 (US 22 or so) proves to be very mind boggling. Mostly this is what happens: I stroll up and sort of point and remark about a lovely red skillet and within seconds someone is by my side rapidly speaking about the amazing qualities of said skillet (or something). I say something random in English and shake my head and rummage in my bag for piece of paper and pen, which in turn clues her in to finding some type of calculator. She punches in a number for the price of the skillet, which of course is very high since I do not speak Chinese and thereby am certainly a foreigner who does not know diddly squat and will pay an exorbitant amount. I punch something else in, very low and she looks at me like I am crazy and then puts down the calculator. Thus, I walk away in order to quickly get called back to a slightly lower price which I decline…the price gets lower…by this time I really only wanted to know the price of the lovely red skillet and I really do not have 100 some Yuan to pay for it. And so the saga continues. I must admit I have bought a few things I really didn't want already because I am a softy and I can't bear to say no when I can't explain why. Not expensive things but for instance, the kitchen now supports a very bright pink trashcan to remind me of my gullibility. Ha.

Added note: The rice cooker that Yoko and I bought ended up not working. It was quite a disappointment after we bought rice and some veggies, chopped them all up and then discovered our rice cooker only kept things warm and refused to cook anything. We waited awhile until our rice and veggies were just slightly warm but then gave up. I was worried about exchanging the thing since I did not receive any kind of receipt but when I arrived at the spot the lady quickly understood my gestures, we tried it out, it still didn't work so she promptly pulled out a new one and handed it to me (we tested it first of course). So hurrah! I was happy the rest of the day! Yesterday, then was Yoko and I's first meal in our apt. Such an achievement!

So we all know I have arrived but where did I arrive to and all that jazz?

2007-09-04T06:40:00.000-07:00

Harbin Institute of Technology (or something that I only know how to say not spell out in Chinese) is a very large university with two campuses in Harbin. I live on the main campus with many buildings, cafeterias, and the continual sound of many more buildings being constructed. Moving forward and building seem to be two very important themes in China and they are evident hourly. (they are building right outside my apartment window at ALL hours – night does not deter this structure from springing up under some industrial sun that never sleeps). Yet, it is still a very nice campus. Lots of tall wispy willows, bushes and flowers decorate the streets. I live in a tall dormitory of 16 floors on the very top floor with four other English teachers and two Japanese teachers. The 15^th floor is the home of a few more foreign language teachers including four more English teachers (from US and Britain) and the three Russian teachers. The rest of the dorm is full of all the foreign students; from first years studying Chinese (mostly Russian and South Korean) to masters level from Iraq to Zimbabwe studying biotechnology or computer science…etc.

My apartment is a three room and bathroom affair of very tall ceilings. The whole place is freshly painted white and there are two large windows in both the living room and bedroom. It is truly a very nice apartment the only problem is the lack of smaller items. The kitchen included a microwave, a hot water heater and a refrigerator but there were no dishes, nothing to cook with or on, no rags, no drinking water. Supposedly, the apartment is supposed to include a hot plate for cooking and indeed, there is a hot plate. Does it work? No. Sigh. The bedroom has a lovely cabinet to hang clothes but no hangers. The bathroom is equipped with a nice tub and broken toilet seat but no shower curtain. Yes, it is one thing to have a space with a chair and a bed; it is another thing entirely to inhabit a home.

So, my friend Yoko and I (also facing the same dilemmas) have been slowly gathering pieces. We continually wonder, what things are important enough to buy even though I might only use them for one year? Thankfully, she is very happy to share things with me like a rice cooker…etc. Of course, as far as food, it is very easy and inexpensive to eat. The university cafeterias (of which there are three on this campus) are large and the food tastes fairly good (the teachers have a separate eating place). When I say inexpensive I mean that it is cheaper to eat there than to cook for yourself. A meal at the nice cafeteria in the cushy buffet place for teachers is about 8Yuan or $1US dollar. A normal meal might be 3Yuan or about 45US cents (roughly). Around and within the campus are also a plethora of restaurants, from western coffee shops (crazy!) to Korean and of course tons of Chinese. Paying more than 20yuan for a meal would be very pricey indeed (a little over $2US). The food has been wonderful and I will speak more about various restaurants in a later post or so (something to look forward to!).

Yes, this is my home now. I have two plates, chopsticks and some spoons. I found a lovely yellow bowl (see a later post about the market) and we figured out how to have drinking water delivered. Slowly, little by little, it will feel like home. The few books and pictures are on the shelves and I even have a few little plants on the windowsill given to me by the gracious Japanese prof, Miho. Hurrah! Harbin!

Traveling

2007-08-30T08:51:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning, 4am, my parents and I arrived, bleary eyed, to Denver International Airport. My checked luggage was (hurrah!) not overweight and thus, toting my nifty new backpack (thanks Joshi and Fam!) and clutching a bag stuffed full of important papers and my regulatory plastic ziplock of toothpaste and contact solution, we sat down to coffee and thick muffins. I made it through some rigorous inspection, waved to my dear padres kneeling to peek at me from under the frosted glass surrounding the security checkpoint and stepped onto the plane for Salt Lake City. The connection there to LA was remarkably on time but then I had to walk out of the terminal and head around the sidewalk to the International Terminal. So odd! There I checked in to China Eastern Airline, feeling foreign already with my brown curls. I proceeded to place a call to the Joshi I left behind at home and cry bitterly into the plastic receiver. Thankfully he knew what to say to set me on my feet again towards a meal, a beer, and a bit of a moment to relax and remember I was just me and would be just fine. There was again the rigmarole of security checkpoints but soon I was seated on a large plane with my wool sweater, pillow and book in what was clearly an eastern Chinese flight. It was a bit of a shock at first but I recalled Joshi's words reminding me we are all just penguins under the sun. I smiled at the baseball-capped grandfatherly man beside me and he smiled back. Yes, we may not speak the same words but a smile is a smile is a smile and all was well.

39 long hours later I arrived in to Harbin airport and happily scooped up my luggage (I almost clapped to see it had not been lost). Guodong, a small young looking Chinese man with a large smile greeted me. It must have been almost 1am and he looked as though he had just woken, showered and popped over from next door. (The more I see Guodong the more I realize he always looks like this --- I wonder if he sleeps and what his trick is). We drove through some lovely brush sort of forest and into an ominous looking city, very little traffic at that hour. Eventually we passed through a gate and drove around HIT (the university) arriving to a tall building, "Foreign Students Dormitory." I was neatly deposited with a few instructions into a rather large but unfriendly seeming apartment on the 16^th floor (aka the top floor). At this point everything appeared threatening, new and far to overwhelming but thankfully the bed was clean and firm and I rested.

Yes, this is the end of side one. You will just have to wait in gleeful anticipation for the continuation. To be continued…