Black-eyed Susan or I have always relied on the kindness of others

I spent this morning with Susan and her seven year-old son. I met them at the school gate at 8:00 this morning, and we went to breakfast. I had been hoping she would take me to breakfast, but I got lucky today, and we spent all morning together until lunch, so she fed me at lunch also! For breakfast we went to this really delightful restaurant where you give them money at the register and they give you something akin to monopoly money, then you go to a buffet and give your fake money for real food. I pointed out that I particularly loved the pancakes stuffed with pork, and we bought six of them. Other than that, I didn't recognize a thing, and would have had a lot of difficulty picking something out. Which is why I loved being out with Susan and her child, who was not shy at all to ask for everything, and I knew if he liked something, I would most likely enjoy it also. So for breakfast I ended up eating what felt at the time like a truly outrageous amount of food. I had two pancakes stuffed with pork, and what I can only describe as spicy barbecue chicken on a stick, as well as this very odd sort of pastry. Imagine a very sweet Hawaiian roll with perhaps a honey glaze, stuffed with ham, with three pieces of bacon-esque pork on top and (SURPRISE!) an almost infinitesimal amount of cheese! That's right folks, I ate cheese for the first time in a month. Sure, it was less than even half a slice of American cheese, and such a small amount the type was unidentifiable, but cheese nonetheless. It was incredible. I kept fawning over everything I ate, so that Susan at first was very happy, but then became a bit worried. "What do you usually eat?" she asked with concern. "Noodles!" I said, laughing as I bit into chicken-on-a-stick, "This is much better!"

After breakfast we took a taxi to her part of the city, which was such a relief to leave these same streets I walk up and down every day. Her part of the city is much prettier. We went to a huge park there. One part of it was over 1000 years old, and another part was just built. It was like walking between two worlds. Inside the park there were bridges and temples built hundreds and hundreds of years ago. When we walked in there were three Chinese girls taking pictures of each other, and I offered to take a photo of the three of them together. Susan told her son, "Miss Autumn, she is always this way. So warm." We walked around and Susan translated stories her son wanted to tell me about his adventures in the park. The stories of children are sometimes so funny. His stories went something like this, "There is where there are snakes. I saw a snake so close, and I almost grabbed it with my hand", or "There were birds in this temple in the summer and I saw them flying," or "This is where I go fishing, I caught my pet turtle here." I liked her son because he made things less awkward. He was a very strange mix of extremely polite and quite rambunctious. We bonded in the park for this reason: in this particular park there is something very strange. There is a very old children's playground that has been closed to the public because it is so old, the equipment isn't quite safe. The gates were grown over with ivy, and in fact the whole playground was overgrown. It wasn't much like any playground I'd seen before. There was a huge, knarled tree growing in the middle, making everything seem dark. There were odd, colorful statues everywhere. There was a big chicken-shaped merry-go-round, that was my favorite. Her son wanted us to sit on it and be spun around and around, he thought it was hilarious. Susan got sick, and said, "You are very strong, my son." His favorite part was the huge clay dinosaurs you used to be able to climb on, but had rotted away. We also played on a see-saw. Susan and her son on one side, and me on the other. There was a big metal airplane you could climb inside. I loved that playground. If I still did that sort of thing, my friends and I would have done drugs there, and talked about how eerie an overgrown playground is, how desolate it seems. How a place absent of children, when children are so obviously supposed to be there, feels haunted by them. An overgrown playground seems much more desolate than anything else does.




After the park, we went to Susan's home, and I met her husband. He was a very thin, kind-looking man. He was very patient with their son. I had heard that being allowed into someone else's private home in China is a great honor, rarely bestowed. I wanted to show that I appreciated this, so I bought them the most expensive bottle of wine I could find, 50 RMB. When I pulled that out and handed it to Susan and her husband, I thought they were going to cry. Susan said, "It's too expensive. It's too much." They were so pleased that her husband went out to the bakery down the street and bought a cake, which he came back with in a big hot pink hat box, with ribbons around it. Very festive. Her husband made us lunch, and he made too many dishes for me to eat. Shrimp and also a very large kind of shrimp-like shellfish that was purple and hideously ugly, and you ate it with vinegar and garlic. A soup made with mushrooms, cabbage and pork, and a plate of fresh green beans. Her husband was impressed with my mad chopsticks skills. I can't say I blame him. While they cooked lunch, her son took me to his room to play computer games. He only knew one website, and the computer games were total rubbish. I wish I could have shown him a few that I know, but they're blocked here. A shame. Well, lunch was delicious, but my stomach must have shrunk or something, because I could barely eat anything, still so full from breakfast. When it was time to leave, Susan accompanied me back to the school gate, and I gave her a hug. This time it wasn't awkward at all. I said, "You have been too kind today. My morning was wonderful, breakfast and the beautiful park. I'm so glad we went there. Thank you so much for everything." Considering the conversations I've had in the past, I guess I should explain why I was able to communicate so much easier with Susan. Susan, I can tell, is very much like me. Her English accent is impeccable, almost flawless, but she doesn't have a very wide vocabulary. But the most impressive thing is her listening. She listens and understands English much better than Jenny or Flora, and she understood everything I said today. What a relief, I actually felt like someone was listening to me! And we had an actual conversation! There was even a point at which I thought I'd lost her because I sneezed, and she said bless you, and then I (who knows why I decided to say this) explained why you say "bless you" when someone sneezes, that it is based on an old superstition that when you are sneezing your soul is escaping. She was quiet for a moment, and then said, "The Chinese have a similar superstition with the number 4. The number 4 is pronounced like ssss, and it is the same way you pronounce 'death' in Chinese." You have no idea. A real conversation. I daresay my first real conversation with any Chinese person, where we both talked and understood each other. I even made my first real joke! A stupid one, but you have to start somewhere. When we walked up to her apartment, her apartment number was 440, and I said, "Oh no! Twice as unlucky." Hey, I said it was stupid. But we both laughed, and she told her husband about it in Chinese during lunch, and he laughed as well.

I gave Susan my e-mail address so I could send her the pictures of her son at the park, and I do hope she invites me out again. I enjoyed her company more today than I have enjoyed some of my classes, and that's saying a lot, because my classes are the joy of my life!

I make my slings and arrows out of strings and feathers

This week and last I have been tumbling down the rabbit hole, so to speak. Every day I have a new class, which means I've already taught over a thousand students. Every new face almost instantly becomes an endearing memory, and I do not know when I will see it again. I am told every day that my students loved me, loved the class, don't want it to end. I have an enormous shock value, which stuns them into attention. Once I have their attention, I keep it by putting on a show that lasts between 40 minutes to 2 hours, depending on the class. I am left exhausted and weak. Yesterday after I got home from my class I went to the kitchen for a glass of water, and my vision went blurry when I reached my arm up for the electric kettle. It is moments like this when I realize that I am still just a child, after all, playing house, and I have not discovered my own limits. I gave myself a time-out, and took a nap.

I have decided to throw myself into learning Chinese, if only to be able to order at restaurants. I asked my boyfriend to send me some books on learning to speak Mandarin, and I hope I can start learning soon. Next week I start my cooking lessons. They want to teach me simple things, but I am going to ask to learn how to make dumplings. I will not leave China without learning how to make dumplings! They're my favorite thing so far. I went back to Weifang with Flora the other day and she and I had lunch there. It was a tiny, dirty shop. There were small wooden stools to sit on. The tables were a heavy, rough wood, and there were cloves of garlic sitting on them and tiny bowls of spices. We ate little pancakes baked in an open oven, stuffed with pork, green onions, and mushrooms. These were the most delicious thing I have tasted here. The pancakes were served with a kind of tofu soup and you ate them with raw garlic. Everybody ate the same meal: Two pancakes, a big bowl of tofu soup, and cloves of garlic, and that was something I found really charming. It was such a rustic kind of setting, in the middle of Weifang City. I would also love to learn to make those, but Flora said that making that sort of pancake takes a lot of training and time.

But the occasions I eat real food, cooked, containing vegetables and meat, are pretty rare. I mostly subsist on ramen and (now that my sister sent me a care package) candy. For this reason, I will be accepting every invitation to dinner that I receive! Today the fourth grade teacher at the primary school invited me to her home on Saturday. Her English name is Susan. I will take a moment to say that I hate the idea of having an "English name". Like, because English speakers have trouble remembering/pronouncing Chinese names, we should all just change our names and answer to new ones. There is something so.... I don't know, colonial about it. But again, it's their decision, because perhaps they just hate the sound of their name butchered by people who can't pronounce it. In any case, it really is, sadly, easier to remeber their English names, and even when I try to remember Chinese names, I will often only come up with English ones. So Susan, the fourth grade teacher, is having me over to her house. This is almost certain to be an uncomfortable endeavor, as her son and husband don't speak English, she barely does, and I have no knowledge of Chinese. I foresee a lot of sitting around awkwardly happening. I accepted because I am hoping she will be feeding me! Henceforth, no matter how tired I am, I will be accepting all similar invitations in the same hopes. I keep getting invited to go hiking as well. I am not much on physical exercise, especially when I'm around people I'm not completely comfortable with. I am somewhat rotund, quite slow, and inexcusably yet undeniably a pack-a-day smoker. However, for the opportunity to see the mountains of Qingdao, I will accept an invitation to go hiking with total strangers. Maybe they will order me some more of those pancakes stuffed with pork. In any case, this town is driving me nuts. There's no where to walk but up and down the same streets. It is not the same as London, where I was fearless. There wasn't a place in the whole city I feared to go, because their public transportation was truly exceptional. From anywhere in the city, I could find my way back to Glasslyn Road in under half an hour. It really inspires one to be adventurous. But here, I could get lost and not find my way back for hours, if at all. I don't have a phone, or any phone numbers even if I did. I don't have a map, I can't speak Chinese, I can't ask directions, I don't understand the bus system, etc. And what I miss the most, spending a perfect afternoon with a stranger. Something I cherished in London, to spend the afternoon with someone, have a bite to eat, take a walk, have a talk, and never know their name. Something I can't do here.

On another note, my class today got totally out of hand! It was a mob scene. It happened because I couldn't get this particular class to talk very much. They were very shy. So I started giving everyone a piece of candy who raised their hand to answer questions. Those fourth-graders turned to animals before my eyes! They rushed me and pinned me against the blackboard, I literally couldn't move. I should have gotten strict and yelled at them, but I was too busy laughing. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt, and I haven't done that in months and months. I started pushing them, screaming, "Sit down, sit down!" But the whole time I was laughing, and they didn't take me seriously. Susan was laughing also, and totally paralyzed about what to do. I looked up and she had run away. So I put the candy in my pocket and started tickling all of them and chased them to their seats. A little offense, you could say, settled them right down. If I am ever cornered by my students again, and unable to move, I will simply have to start chasing them. It's instincutal for kids, I think, to play chase. That got them all in their seats, and when Susan returned everyone was sitting, giggling quietly. I really liked all the kids running up to me, I love the chaos, the yelling. I also love figuring things out as I go along, and getting them under control. Every day is an adventure, and what more could I possibly ask for?

In my classes with the older girls, they have all heard about my games. As soon as I pull out the green scarf, they all start laughing and clapping. The other classes must have been talking about the game where you get to blindfold the teacher and hide the chalk. The new game I've been playing is wonderful for getting them talking. I put question words in a bag (who, what, where, when, why, how) and they draw a word. They then have to ask me a question beginning with that word. I expected them to ask simple questions, arbitrary, that I wasn't really supposed to answer. But instead they all formed really complicated questions about me and my life. What I like to do, what I like to eat, about my friends and family. They asked, "Who is your best friend?" And I said, "My boyfriend. My boyfriend is my best friend." Well, that really got them going. They asked to see pictures, they talked about what he was like, what his name is, how we met, where he's from, if we were going to get married, what I liked about him, how he feels with me being in China. I swear, every question after that one was about my boyfriend. They loved it, that I had a personal life. I said, "The thing I like most about my boyfriend is his pretty smile!" And they all passed around my phone with pictures and all agreed that he had a very pretty smile, and that was their favorite thing about him also. It was so wonderful to have them all talking. Because of their curiosity, they forced themselves to try and communicate complex thoughts. It was wonderful. Everyone got so much practice speaking English today. They also loved asking me questions about China. Where I live, how I spend my free time. They even wanted to know trivial little things like what time I wake up in the mornings, and what time I got to sleep at night, what kinds of food I eat. Many of them wanted to cook for me. It was really great. I have sort of been leaning towards preferring the children. I can be a lot more silly and playful, and a lot more physical, and it has sometimes been more fun. But the last two days I have really appreciated the older students, too, because they can talk more, and understand me better when I talk. They are also more interested in me as a person. When I tell my students I am 21, they all get so excited, because then they know that we're the same age. Invariably, two or three of them will ask if I want to go out together, get something to eat or go shopping. I have been asked for my phone number about a hundred times. Sadly, I have no phone, so I can't make plans with anyone. I would love to go out with my students and really get to know them. I'm sure it would also be better for them to practice speaking outside of the classroom, one on one. The news on the "English Corner" is that I only do it once a week at the military school across the road. This is too bad, because many of my students at the health school have been asking me constantly about "English Corner, are you teaching English Corner, when are you teaching English Corner, can I help with English Corner?" So I have been thinking that I will do an English Corner at this school outside of my regular hours, on my own time. I haven't wanted to commit to that, because some days when I'm done teaching I think I'm going to pass out from exhaustion. I am hoping to spend another week teaching and see if I get used to it or not.

A Minor Annoyance: I would like to take a moment to complain about a minor annoyance in my day. In China everyone must boil the water to make it safe to drink, and then put it in these large canisters, like an oversize thermos. This keeps the water boiling hot all day, and so the teachers all drink boiling water. Boiling water just doesn't quench my thirst in that way you want it to, and I frequently need to take a sip of water, as my throat gets dry. So every night I put a glass of water in the fridge to get cold for the next morning when I teach. And every morning, the teacher will slip up while I'm busy with the students and go pour out my cold water and fill it with hot water. I am sure this is done with the kindest and most thoughtful of intentions, but the truth is it's a total bother. So I have taken to carrying my water with me, or keeping an eye on it at all times. It's become a sort of game. I refuse to show distaste for the kindness of others, so when I get handed a glass of boiling water in 90 degree weather, I must smile appreciatively and drink it.

And I was your silver lining, but now I'm gold

I love this job. I have had a few fleeting doubts about some things. Nothing here in China, but about the people I left behind. And between every class I get nervous all over again, and worried they'll catch me in my lie. I am not a real teacher. I am not really this confident and full of mirth. And yet, every single class, I come away with an adrenaline boost of joy. Every class full of fifty Chinese children I look at, I know I am about to win them over. So far, two hundred Chinese children under my belt.

A van comes to pick me up to take me to the school in the mornings at 7:30. Yesterday morning I stood outside the school gate with the same panicky-excited feeling of catching the bus for the first day of school. The driver took me to the school and accompanied me to my first classroom. When I walked in, it was to a flurry of applause, which is a wonderful feeling in any circumstance. And the students with their wide eyes, and their mouths hanging open... all my students are like enthusiastic puppies. I'm sure that will wear off once they get used to me. I think we all had a lot of fun. We played games, I danced and sang, I made endless rounds walking up and down the aisles asking everyone direct questions. This is trouble I'm having. I'm supposed to make them talk, but I don't know how to when there are so many of them. I have two options. I can make them repeat things I say in unison, which isn't very good for helping them learn. Or I can go around the room and ask each of them individually to speak, which takes a lot of time. I prefer to make them speak individually, so they get used to hearing what their own voices sound like making English words, instead of a chorus of voices all saying the same thing. I don't make it too complicated, though, because they are shy and sometimes when I make them speak they finish, and drop down in their seats, and put their books over their heads in embarrassment! Though it's very amusing, it makes me want to go easier on them. I want them to want to talk to me.

The teachers at the primary school seem to think I'm a very good photo opportunity. They particularly like the game where I write words on the board and get the students to come up and circle them. The teacher watched in the first class as the students jumped up, yelling in English, "Me, Teacher! Me, pick me! Pick me, Teacher!" They raised their hands and touched me as I walked by, waving their arms in my face, anything to go up to the board and circle a word in English! It was very thrilling for me, but there was a certain amount of work to get them to that level. The introductions were important, because each student told me their name, where they're from and how old they are. I listened and made eye contact with each student, smiled at them, touched their arm, and said, "Very good, excellent, thank you". I liked starting out this way, instead of correcting them right off, because this way every single student gets a kind of private moment with me, where they have my undivided attention. I think that can mean a lot in a class of 50 students, where there is usually a real teacher who has to really teach them something, and can't spare time like that to speak to them individually. But I'm not nearly as busy or professional, and I can spare all the time I want to. So anyway, in the second class that teacher wanted to get pictures of the game, and of me, and of the students so excited to play it. But the problem was, she told me to play that game immediately after I'd introduced myself, before I got to go around and spend a little time with each student, so when we started playing the game, they were all more nervous. Instead of everyone raising their hand and waving it around and shouting to get picked, half of them raised their hands and sat solemnly waiting to be chosen. If I could have explained to her why, psychologically, the first class was more outgoing than the second, I would have. But instead, I worked on trying to get the students more enthused by giving each one that went up a high five when they got the right word, and having the class give them a round of applause. This worked almost equally well, and by the end of that game, the students were also yelling, "Teacher, here, pick me!" Somewhere there are photos of me and a group of Chinese students who are pulling at my clothes and touching my hair, and I am in the center, laughing.

I want to teach them the parts of the body, too, and I have a game I'd love to play, but I need some of those little star stickers you got in grade school. The students choose where to put a sticker on me, and then say, "It's on your _____". This way, they learn the body parts, use them in a complete sentence, and get to have fun putting stickers on my body, which they probably don't get to do with a lot of their teachers. I'm sure me walking around the classroom with stickers on my nose and cheeks will be funny for them, as well. For some reason this reminds me that all of my students love fat jokes. And it doesn't seem to be in a mean way. I am very good at picking out scorn from humor, almost obsessively. In my first class I asked every student to name something they were good at. A chubby little boy said, "I am good at eating!" and then laughed, and everyone else laughed too. When I said, "I am good at eating TOO!" I thought they'd never stop. So in my next three classes I used the same line. "I am good at eating" and patted my belly, and "I am good at dancing!" and danced around the room a little. You'd think I was freakin Mickey Mouse, the way these kids thought that was entertaining. So then, every chubby student in the class thought it was the coolest thing to say, "I am good at eating, too, ha ha ha!" And when one of the students said, "I am good at dancing, too," I would make them stand up and dance with me for a second, so I got a lot of students proclaiming to be dancers. In this way I could tell which students liked to show off, because it was the show-offs who wanted an opportunity to get a little jiggy with it with their teacher in front of the class. By the end they would say, "I am good at dancing," and immediately start shaking their booties, assuming I would join in (which I did).

I felt that things were going well because of all the laughing and yelling and activity. It wasn't boring, they were happy, etc. But when class was over, I felt like a celebrity. In the first class several students yelled, "I love you!" as I left. I turned around and blew them all kisses. In the second class, I heard students muttering, "I like her". After every class a swarm of students would come up to get me to sign my name in their notebooks. That's right, I was asked for autographs. I do not know why. Out of my 200 students so far, I have probably given around 50 autographs. After a few students get them, the regular teacher steps in like my bodyguard and herds me out of the classroom. It would only be more realistic if she had a walkie talkie, communicating with the teacher in the other classroom: "We're bringing her your way. We're taking the B stairwell. Be ready, we'll hand her off at oh nine hundred."

Those are the kids, though. Yesterday and today I also had new classes of older students, 20 and 21. They are the same age as me and don't ask for my autograph, they ask for my phone number. They ask to have pictures taken with me. Whenever I would turn around from facing the blackboard, there would be a dozen or so cell phones pointed at me, which would disappear immediately. At the end of class all my students stood in a line and waited to have their photos taken with me, and the ones waiting just took more candid photos of me. It was very funny. The older students are different because they can make decisions independently of me, and collectively with each other. You don't know flattery until you have been serenaded by 50 beautiful young Chinese girls. My last class asked me to sing a popular American song. I chose "New Romantic". I chose it for two reasons: 1. I don't know all the words of any pop songs, and 2. I knew they wouldn't be able to follow the words and so it would take the pressure off me to sing them correctly. It was an inaccurate choice for two reasons: 1. It's not American, and 2. it's not really pop either. But it was the best I could do. Then they asked to sing a song for me, and every one of them began singing, in perfect choral unison, "Ocean, Hometown", which is a Chinese song, so of course I don't know anything about it. I don't know if it's quality music or not, but when someone serenades you in a foreign tongue, who cares? When I submit to these things from the students the Chinese teachers say I am "so patient, very patient", and I am embarrassed to admit that, actually, I enjoy it! Who wouldn't enjoy it? I don't even care if there is a certain amount of spectacle to their interest, like they think I am somewhat freakish. I still like it! I am not a person who shies away from admiration.

I have been wondering if my teaching is too playful, and they're really not learning anything at all. I like it that way, I have to be honest. I like the playful. I like the shouting and the fun and the games. But I wonder if I am doing things right, or if I will soon be reprimanded for my behavior. Can work be this fun? Can you enjoy every moment of it this way? I swear to god, if I get any more skeptical and cynical of my own happiness, I'm just going to turn to dust!

You're happy, Autumn! Just live with it! Just let it be!

I gave a man my coat, he said, "What about your gloves?"

Today Flora gave me a more complete teaching schedule. Because there were supposed to be two English teachers, and there is only me, I have ended up with a very complex schedule. I was worried I would have to teach twice as much as I was supposed to, because the other teacher backed out. It turns out I am teaching twice as many classes as I was supposed to, but they also aren't allowed to give me more than 20 periods a week. So that means I have this weird two-week schedule. The first week I teach the classes I was intended to teach, 20 periods worth. The second week I teach the classes the other English teacher was intended to teach, 20 more periods worth. So every other week I switch schedules between my original schedule and the other teacher's schedule, and the students have class every other week, instead of every week. They also had to drop a few classes, or combine them with other classes, which means my classes will be larger. I hope I don't get my weeks mixed up! That also means different lesson plans for all these different classes, and all the students are at different levels as far as speaking English. So I will do the best job that I can, and hope they don't fire me! In a way it is a good thing, because the other teacher only had a high school education, and they were giving her all the easier classes to teach. So now I will get to have easier classes as well!

Half my periods each week are at the primary school, and I look forward to that, because I will be more of an assistant teacher there, and the regular teacher will tell me what he/she wants them to learn about. All the rest of my classes, except for one, are in the same two buildings on campus. One of the buildings is right beside my apartment complex, and the other is also very near. I can see it from my window at night, and wonder if anyone can see me from one of those classrooms, as I often hang my laundry to dry on the balcony in my underwear. Except for two of my classes, which are in the afternoon from 2:30-4:30, all of my classes are in the morning from 7:30-11:30. It looks like Wednesday will be my busiest day, as it's the only day I have 6 periods of teaching. I will have to devise some kind of week A/week B lesson plan chart.

I have already been thinking that this week and next should be easy, because I will give all my classes the same first-day introduction. I will tell them my name, where I am from, about my schooling, about my family, etc. Then I will ask each of them to introduce themselves and include the following: their names, where they are from, how old they are, something they like to do, and something they don't like to do. I'll write on the board the script, so they feel more comfortable.
Hello, my name is _______.
I am from _______.
I am _______ years old.
I like to _______.
I don't like to _______.

That should suffice to take up the first periods of all of my new classes, and if there is time left, we will play a game. I would like to play this game I read about where you put a bunch of different articles of your clothing in a pillow case and pass it around the room. Every student pulls out a piece of clothing and puts it on. Hats, underwear, shirts, gloves, anything really. Then you talk about the name of the article of clothing, what color it is, when is the best season of the year in which to wear it, etc. I think my students would think it was really funny, because my clothes are so big. They'd probably be four or five times too large. Everyone would look ridiculous, it would be hilarious, and they'd all get a good laugh at my expense (which is fine with me, as long as they're learning something). Especially my bras! Imagine a 15 year-old Chinese girl wearing one of my bras. In any case, I'm not totally certain this game is appropriate, or if anyone would want to play it. I think it sounds really great, though.

I am digging around in my head trying to come up with things to lecture about, and corresponding games to play. You know, which words are too difficult? Which topics can I teach in a single class? Which topics will be most relevant to actually communicating in English? If anyone has any suggestions, I would appreciate some advice.

I'm half-awake in a fake empire

Good news today from Flora. She has worked out the bare bones of my teaching schedule. I am only a part time teacher, so I have twenty periods to teach each week. A period is roughly an hour, about 50 minutes. Every day (Monday-Friday) a man will come and pick me up at 7:30 to take me to the primary school. I will aide a regular grade teacher there for two periods, 10 periods a week. I will be at the primary school from 7:30 to 9:30, and then I will be driven home. The grade school teachers will tell me what topics they'd like me to cover, and give me advice and be there to translate. That sounds like a lot of fun, as I've been researching online different games to play to help kids learn English. Flora says the kids learn much more quickly how to speak, and are more enthusiastic. So we will essentially be speaking the same language. Enthusiasm! That's half my periods right there. I will be teaching at three different campuses. The primary school with the kids, here at the health school, and across the street at a military academy. I will only teach two periods at the military academy, though. The advanced English class I've taught the past two weeks is two periods long. I will also have two special periods ("teaching on the corner" as Flora called it) where I go to the park with the dragon statues in the evenings and sit at the stone tables and anyone who wants to come and practice having a simple conversation can come. That's 10 periods at the primary school, 2 periods at the military academy, 2 periods of advanced English, 2 periods of "corner teaching", altogether 16 periods. The other four periods are still up in the air. Flora isn't sure yet what I will be teaching with those four periods. She says she will tell me by the end of the week. I am very excited to begin.

I am most excited about the "teaching on the corner". I love this idea! This way the students who feel uncomfortable talking in class can come and have a chat in a more relaxed and casual atmosphere. I would be willing to do it every afternoon, not for just two periods! I think this is a much more practical way to teach English to the students, because I have noticed that they are not used to speaking up in class. Sometimes I can tell they would like to ask a question, but are too shy to speak English to me. I hope I will win them over after a few more classes, because I am not here to judge their English, just to make them try. I would love to try and speak Chinese with them, and show them how terrible I am at it, so they will feel more comfortable! The only thing I have learned how to say so far is "fried dumplings". I was considering paying Flora to teach me Chinese each week, so that I could learn Chinese, but also so that I could give Flora some money. She told me that I make twice as much money as the regular teachers at the school, and that made me feel terrible. Even if they are awful teachers, they have to be better at it than I am! I have no experience teaching whatsoever, and I don't speak Chinese. So right there they have two advantages over me. But I know that the money here is worth only 1/6 of the American dollar, which would roughly be 1/10 of the British pound, so I imagine it would be difficult to find someone from an English-speaking country to come to China for less than the salary they've offered me. But, I will share a secret. I would have done it for free! All I wanted was to travel. I didn't come here to get rich. I came here to see what the world looked like from the other side. I wanted to adapt to a place where they didn't talk like me, look like me, act like me. I wanted to be free! I wanted to see if I could stand the alienation, I wanted to be an adventurer, a stranger in a strange land.

Before I left home I read a book called "Searching for Caleb" by Anne Tyler. I have always loved Anne Tyler, ever since I was too young to understand her. When I was a teenager I read almost all of her books, because I imagined they were a true and unyielding testament to the reality of adulthood. I have found that I am not so far off in that belief. "Searching for Caleb" was one of the few novels that I skipped, because it seemed like this particular story didn't speak to me. It was about a fortune teller, and I didn't believe in the supernatural, it was about family you had to leave behind, and I was wading up to my neck in family I had to leave behind. I finally read that book this summer, and I am glad that I waited, because now I am capable of understanding. Now I know what that story is trying to say. It is about a fortune teller who is really just an advice giver. People come to her with their problems, and she gives them answers. But the thing that touched me about the story is that she didn't need to be a fortune teller to give the answers she gave. Before she even consulted her tarot cards, she would tell each client which path to choose. "Always choose change!" she said. Always pick the road you haven't been down before, always pick the door you haven't opened yet, always pick the opportunity that may never come again. In this way, you can never regret your decisions, because you will never wonder "what might have been, if only..." You will know that you chose "what might have been" and it became "what was". And that is the path of a life. There is no shame and no regret, only a series of choices we make with the best of intentions for our lives. And if that doesn't amount to happiness, nothing would have made you happy, would it? I read this book at a time when I didn't know if I was making the right decision, and I learned that the right decision is easy. It is simply to decide to do what you've never done before, pack in your hopes and your fears, get on the plane, and fly!

You must come over to have a taste of mom's home cooking

Yesterday was my second day of teaching. I was nervous all over again. But this time I felt more prepared, and a lot more in control. I struck the fear of god into my students by making them stand up and read aloud from their books, and answer questions in English. At the beginning of class I started the film they're supposed to watch, and noticed that some of them had their heads on their desks, some were reading books, some were chatting quietly, and some were just staring off into space. So I paused the video and had two students stand up and read the dialogue aloud. You should have seen those heads pop up into attention! And when I started the video again, everyone was studiously following along in their books, or watching the video intently, mouthing the words. I was very amused. After the video we went over the dialogue as a class, and then I asked them all to stand up and say something they're good at. They said things like, "I'm good at sports", "I'm good at singing", "I'm good at computer games". Then I asked them to say what they're bad at, and they all said things like, "I'm bad at math", "I'm bad at studying". I told them I was good at dancing, and bad at sports. I really enjoy looking at their faces, getting to know them. In the middle of my class, another class let out, this one all boys, and the boys all crowded around the window in the classroom door, yelling "Hello, Hi, Hi teacher!" The girls in the class started yelling at them and ran to the door to chase them off. And what was I doing... laughing, of course! And yelling, "Hello, Hi, Hello students!" right back at them. I love the way people here say "hello" to me. They say it like they're not sure it will work out for them. Like it's some kind of trick, "Hello!" and then they look at me surprised, like they're holding their breaths, until I say "Hello!" back, and then they smile or laugh. It's like a game. I love this game.

Jenny, the beginning English teacher, attended my class again, this time to get me to edit a speech she's giving in English. It's very fun to edit things here because I really feel like I'm helping. My only comparison is editing papers in college for my friends, which were all written well, maybe a few typos here, or a misspelled word there. Here, when Flora or Jenny ask me to edit something they've written, I can really do something to make it sound like native English, and they really appreciate that because it makes them seem more adept at the language than they really are. And I like the idea that I've taken something that didn't sound the least bit native, and corrected it so when they communicate with English speakers they'll be more prepared.

In any case, after class Jenny invited me out to dinner with her later that evening to thank me for my help. I was wary, but I accepted because, let's face it, my social skills are rotting away under a plank of solitude. After class several students approached me as if they wanted to speak with me, and then just stood and stared. I think they were afraid that, since I'm their teacher, if they tried to talk to me then they'd be graded or something. One, very sweet girl with a big round face, asked me if she could come to my apartment to visit me and practice her English. Another student walked silently beside me as we left the building, but I sensed she wanted to say something to me, so I turned to face her and smiled. She smiled back, handed me a note, said, "My phone number", and ran off.

Here is what her note said: Dear Teacher, I am one of your students. My name is Li ShanShan and I suppose we are about the same age. It would be a pleasure to be your friend and be helpful to your life here like being a guide of hanging out or shopping. Oh, you must come over to have a taste of mom's home cooking.
Sincerely, Your student, Li

I was very happy with this, because Li is one of the students I like to look at. She's very serious, and almost never smiles, and tries very hard to speak English, though she's one of the poorer students as far as pronunciation. When she answered what she was good at, she tried for a complex sentence, not a simple one like the other girls. She said, "I am good at friendship and being caring with others". I was charmed. But I suppose I am easily charmed here, where everyone seems so good-natured.

Well, after class I got ready to go out with Jenny. I met her at the school gate at 6:00 and we started walking. She walked and chatted equally fast, and I found it difficult to keep up with both. She told me again all about the successful members of her family, etc. Quite dull, but I was a receptive listener, and that gives me a lot of pleasure in itself. We got to this hole in the wall restaurant called "Sunshine Happiness Restaurant". I thought that was promising. It had sort of a dive bar feel to it, rough wooden tables and chairs, dim lighting. We sat at a window looking out onto the street, which I didn't find too appetizing as the streets of Yidu tend to smell overwhelmingly of piss. Jenny ordered, and it went something like this, "You like shredded pork fried in dough, you put it in a pancake and eat it. We'll get that. Yes? You like celery? It is a vegetable, crunchy, green. Cashews on top, yes? You like a pork, sweet, but also vinegar, but sweet. You like sweet pork? We'll get that. You like, uh, it is fried pork and cabbage, uh, stuffing! Fried dumpling! With pork and cabbage stuffing. You like fried dumplings? We'll get that. You like beer? One or two? We'll get two. What else?" And she finally took a breath. That woman can talk on and on.

I also found out why I was under the impression I didn't like the food here. Jenny told me the restaurant around the corner (of previously mentioned chicken foot fiasco) is actually part of the school, a cafeteria. It's cafeteria food! Of course I didn't like it. The dishes we ordered I enjoyed very much. They came out one at a time, so I had time to appreciate each one. The "pork and pancakes" was a lot like moo shoo pork in chinese restaurants at home. Little breaded pieces of pork in a sauce, that you put in a thin piece of tortilla, with a little shredded cabbage, and eat like a taco. I was very relieved that, in fact, it was wonderful. Then came the cool, marinated celery with hot cashews on top. Also very good. Then the "sweet pork", which tasted very much like honey barbecue chicken. It was incredibly good, my favorite part of the meal. Then came the fried dumplings, stuffed with mostly cabbage, and a little pork for flavor. And the beer! I'll have a beer or two in general, but I don't think it tastes very good. I had a beer last night called Tsingtao beer, that was like nothing I've ever had. I wonder if I could bring some of that home as well. But, again, perhaps it was only because I was parched from our swift jog up the street.

The dinner conversation left much more to be desired than the dinner itself. And still, I'll admit I enjoyed my evening out. Jenny treated me like something quite special which, while undeserved, was somewhat endearing. She told me that my students thought very highly of me, and shared loads of gossip. She told me about previous English teachers who had married and run off with students, and how they no longer hire male teachers anymore for that reason, and about students who "got into trouble" with other male teachers.

When we walked home, she linked arms with me, which was quite awkward, as it made it more difficult to maneuver around people on the street. She walked me back to the school gate and hugged me goodnight. This was the most incredibly uncomfortable hug. We both leaned our heads in the same direction for the hug, and for one brief, disturbing moment, I thought she going to kiss me. Instead, she quickly averted her head the other way, and we said goodnight. I promised I would call her if I was ever free for lunch. Soon I will return to Sunshine Happiness and I will be able to order for myself because I got Jenny to circle the items on the menu that we had ordered.

A small victory.

Let's get out of Weifang City

Weifang looks like many other cities, but Weifang has an operation going on that would shock and scandalize the public. Weifang is the city where I went to to have my medical exam done, so I can "technically" get off quarantine and start teaching. That medical exam was a strange and sobering experience. It was a little clinic, very dark, and there were four different rooms where different tests were done. The first room was to draw blood. I walked in and there was a very young woman behind a plate glass window, wearing a blood-smattered lab coat. Not promising, no, not promising at all. I was instructed to stick my arm into a hole in the glass, where the young woman proceeded to poke me with a needle three times, unsuccessfully. "Blood cannot be drawn from these veins", Flora translated, forebodingly. It was vaguely reminiscent of the Asian doctor at the plasma clinic where a friend and I went to donate blood to get money for weed when I was in college. "Your friend has no veins", he told her, like I was a vampire, and I went to wait in the car. So we proceeded to the next test, hoping, I suppose, that time would fill my bloodless veins.

The next room was very dark and very cold. A woman indicated that I pull my shirt up over my breasts, which I thought was a bit slapdash and unprofessional, instead of just asking me to take it off. Then she smeared goop on my breasts, and clipped five little pincers in a row, from one nipple to the other, across my chest. After that, she put cuffs on my wrists and ankles. At this point, I realize that I have allowed a total stranger in a cold, dark room in a strange land to tie me to a bed and put clamps on my nipples without a word of complaint or protest. There was obviously no explanation for this "test" other than that it was some kind of sadistic sex ritual, which I had unwittingly lain down and accepted. But no, a few tense minutes later, the "results" of said test were printed out, and I was uncuffed from the bed, and unclamped at the nipple. I can only surmise that what was being tested was my obedience to bewildering instructions.

The next room was an x-ray room, and it was pretty simple. All I did was stand in front of a large machine and breathe in noxious fumes. Then I went to a room where they did an ultrasound. I don't know what they were looking for, but I guess it wasn't there. And then, the grand finale, back to the blood test. They had called in a "more experienced" nurse (who looked about five years younger than me) and she searched in vain for a vein in my arm. She finally settled on my wrist, where there were plenty of juicy veins from which to draw blood. I intended to jerk my arm away in horror, but thought they might revoke my passing grade on the obedience test. The reason this made me uncomfortable was that same Asian doctor at the plasma clinic. Being so desperate for weed money, when he rejected the veins in my arm, I suggested, "Can't you just take it out of my hand?" And he looked at me like I was some kind of barbarian and said disgustedly, "We're not that kind of establishment." So, upon discovering that in Weifang, they are that kind of establishment, I suddenly questioned my ability to cheerfully and helpfully allow young girls to do whatever they want to me. I looked at Flora with all of my burgeoning doubt and confusion, and I think I must have looked like a lost child, because she grabbed my free arm and looked at me with great concern and said, "This is going to hurt!"

I did not feel greatly comforted.

Drunk and merry with three Chinese guys and a taxi driver

The other night I had the most fantastic, even magical evening. I could write a book and still not begin to describe it all. It started when Flora told me that she and I, and a group of teachers from the international department were being taken out to dinner by the leaders of the department. Apparently, it's the best funded department, because it's also responsible for recruiting (big business in the school business). We were being taken out to dinner to celebrate both Teacher Day, which is self-explanatory, and my arrival. So I'm thinking, great, I get to see some people, chat a little, have a cup of tea, maybe some rice, spend an evening not barricaded in my apartment chain smoking and thinking aimless thoughts. Boy, did I underestimate the evening. We crammed about seven people into a taxi to drive fifteen minutes to the restaurant. When we got there, I was very impressed. A nice buffet spread, linen tablecloths, lush carpeting. Then Flora and I were separated from the other teachers (Flora was disappointed because she wanted to eat dinner with her friends, but we had to dine with the big-wigs), and escorted upstairs where there was a series of little private dining rooms. These rooms were lavishly decorated, with painted ceilings and big, wide windows facing the setting sun. There was a table with eight settings, with chopsticks painted red and gold laying across little china plates, a little pots of boiling water on burners. The purpose of the pots was to cook the food, which came out on trays, raw. And the food! There were about thirty plates of food. It was a beautiful thing. Plates piled with pink and white lamb, beef, and fish. Giant smoky gray shrimp with whiskers as long as my arm, and beady little black eyes. Boiled, salted peanuts, spiced cloves of garlic, hard little sweet potatoes fried in honey. There were plates of cucumbers, carrots, green beans, sea kelp, peppers, leeks and parsley marinated in this tangy/sweet sauce. That marinade, if only I knew what it was, I know I'll never taste anything like it again when I go home. There were five or six little bowls of sauces for dipping, each one strange and wonderful. Some flavors I recognized were red pepper, sesame, peanut butter, and vinegar, but there were many other flavors I didn't recognize. And I must have tried everything, because everyone took it upon themselves to put food in my pot that they wanted to see me eat. And eat and eat. We sat and ate and chatted merrily for hours and hours, letting bits of food cook, cool off, eating them slowly. I have never had a better meal in all my memory, and perhaps this was because I was deliriously, insanely drunk.

How it happened that I got drunk and merry with three Chinese men and a taxi driver is this: Before we started eating, one of the leaders, Mr. Shang, asked me if I drank, and I said yes. He asked me if I smoked and I said yes. So he, in a show of his masculine prowess, proclaimed that he'd show me the best of both that China had to offer, and sent off for three bottles of the finest liquor and a pack of the finest cigarettes to be delivered to the restaurant by taxi. I was duly impressed. When it arrived he invited the taxi driver to stay and share our meal. Apparently you are only supposed to drink at dinner when you're toasting someone, and every sixth toast you finish off your glass. I don't know if that part about the sixth toast is widely practiced in China, or just a joke on me for the evening. In any case, twenty toasts later, I was toasted. Literally, twenty toasts. We toasted everything from Mr. Yu's daughter being accepted at university, to Flora's new handbag, to Mr. Liu's badminton victory that morning. The liquor was exquisite, and tasted like spiced fruit, but not any particular fruit I could recognize. I'll have to ask Flora what it is and bring it home, if I can afford it. By the end of the evening I was so drunk, I was toasting everyone, even the taxi driver, and no one could understand a word I said (and I hoped they assumed it was because I was speaking English, and not the terrible slurring of my speech). When we were finished eating we drank tiny bowls of our boiled water, which was at that point a very intensely flavored broth, and then we each had a last glass of liquor. The men also indulged in a cigarette with me, though none of them were smokers. We sat around the table drinking and smoking, and I was like one of the guys. I'm sure Flora was scandalized, but I think the men were determined to prove that their culture was just as enlightened about the behavior of women and youth. That's the impression I got, at least.

At the end of the night I came back to my apartment and passed out on my couch, using a bag of pears I'd bought on the street at midnight as a pillow.

Tai Chi in the Moonlight, may make you fall in love

I've certainly had a strange couple of days. Since the power has been out in my apartment, I've been in a mood, dazed, confused, bored. Last night Flora sensed I was about to lose it, and asked me to join her tai chi lesson at 8:00. I was curious about this, because it gets too dark to read here a little before 7:00, and too dark to see anything in my apartment by 8:00. So I went to the park with the dragon statues and waited. Slowly, people began to drift into the park in the moonlight, and stand silently watching the teacher move slowly over the stones. It was like watching birds watching the horizon. Then when Flora showed up, there was a flurry of activity. She introduced me to her teacher and all sorts of people. They all wanted me to learn tai chi to lose weight. It was hilarious. I have found that interacting with people, even when we can't speak, is my favorite thing about living here, because without words it becomes a game for the body. Which facial expression, what kind of smile, what kind of stance, when to laugh, when to giggle, when to blush (or make the body movements equivalent to blushing), when to widen the eyes and raise the eyebrows. Widening the eyes and raising the eyebrows I have found to be invaluable, as that action can convey that you are impressed by someone's actions or status, amazed at their accomplishments, surprised by something odd or meaningful that happened to them, listening more attentively when they seem to be speaking about something more important.... the list is almost endless. But for more brief or casual interactions, I've found that just smiling incessantly, being kind and confident, and having large quantities of humor, especially the ability to laugh at yourself, is all you really need. Similarly, reading these things on a person's face as they speak to you in meaningless tones and variations is also valuable. I have learned very quickly how to tell when someone is making fun of me, because Flora is no help as a translator when that happens. I can tell when she is trying to cover up that someone has said something off-color about me because she takes an extra pause before translating, and looks at me and then at the sky. She is transparent in this way- she does this little set of actions every single time, and I can read it as clearly as any words on a page.

So she introduced me to her teacher and he was very friendly, he told me I needed to learn tai chi to make my body strong and lose weight. I nodded profusely and smiled (eyes wide and eyebrows lifted). She introduced me to her friend, who had driven for hours that day just to come and study with her teacher, who was also a teacher in his own town, and he told me I needed to learn tai chi to lose weight and be healthy inside. He said that Flora used to be fat, but she has lost weight in the year she has done tai chi. A young man came up to me because he wanted to practice his English, and told me I should learn tai chi because it "makes me so quiet, quiet". I liked his way of speaking, his ernest way of describing things. He told me, "My oral English is so unpracticed, for I have lived for seven years where there is no one to talk to". It sounded so dramatic. He was also the first person here to try and teach me Chinese words. He was trying to teach me to pronounce "tai chi" correctly, but it was difficult for me, because the Chinese have a way of making the "ch" sound in "chi" like ch, z, sh, and a soft g all at the same time. In short, everyone I met wanted me to study tai chi, and all of them seemed very personally interested in me losing weight, which I thought was quite funny. I laughed and laughed, and told all of them that I could stand to lose the "tire around my waist" as Flora called it. She wants me to start studying with her teacher, and I would like to very much. It wasn't just watching them move like birds that made me so enthralled, it was the whole ambience of the evening.

Last night was the first time I've been out of my apartment after dark since I got here, and I couldn't help thinking how stupid that was. The campus was so quiet, and the thick, hanging heat of the day was slightly dissipated, made more refreshing by a sudden cool breeze. The sound of the traffic was less audible, and the sound of frogs and crickets and birds was so loud it seemed to make the ground shake. And, the biggest treasure of all: in the dark no one stared at me. Once my eyes adjusted to the moonlight, I could see everything like it was made of bone, but faces were hard to make out. And I knew that no one was staring at me, and that made me feel peaceful. I sat for hours in the dark and watched the students move in unison with the teacher like cranes, and like stinging insects, first slow, then hard, with more power. I thought I would never be able to make my body do those things. I was in love, to say the least.

When I got home tonight it was very dark, and I was too tired to sleep. There was a knock on my door that terrified me, so late at night in the dark. It was two women who brought me four tiny candles. I thanked them, and touched their hands, and smiled in the dark. I wasn't expecting such kindness, I suddenly felt a happiness that felt like sadness. I love this place, and the humor and kindess everyone has shown me. This is the perfect place for me to practice my craft, communicating efficiently. It's like starting from the bottom up. I have always communicated myself, and understood the communications of others, in writing and speaking, and that's what I consider my one talent. Body language isn't beyond my grasp, either, but here it has been elevated to the only form of communication in most of my interactions.

When I was a sophomore in college, I wanted to take a vow of silence for this exact reason. To learn to read a situation differently. To understand people without speaking to them. To see what we could say to each other, without saying anything at all. I was, of course, unsuccessful in this endeavor, as I am a naturally chatty person. That's why now I am happy to have the temptation taken away for me. I like this, I appreciate it. It makes me grateful to think of the things I have learned to see in people's faces, what I have learned by listening to the tones of voices without hearing the words, what I have read in people's shoulders and hands, how I have learned to make my face and body into a message, from me to you, something to be understood beyond speech.

Our days are strange and beautiful

Wednesday, September 02, 2009

Today was wonderful. I laughed more today than I have in all the other days combined. When I went to my classroom, Flora accompanied me, and I was very nervous. When I walked in, the students, about twenty-five of them, all began cheering and clapping. I was so embarrassed I turned right around as if to leave (a brief moment of panic), and then quickly turned around towards the students, so it seemed I spun in a circle! I must have looked so silly. But then I looked at the girls and they were all smiling, and I was smiling, and we were all laughing.

Flora told us all to settle down, and had me talk a little about myself. I talked about how I just finished at the university, four years, and that I studied psychology. I told them that I had two sisters and two brothers, and described how much older than me they all are. When I told them that my oldest sister is in her forties, their eyes all got so wide (some people who know me when I am drunk, know that I am quickly won over by a captive audience). When I told them my age, they laughed at me, and shouted, "So young, so young!". I told them that I lived in the mountains in a very small town, and I drew them a picture of the mountains, with me as a smiling stick figure in the middle. Then they asked me questions, and all they seemed to want to know is, "Why China? Do you like China? How long do you want to live here? Do you like the food?" I told them that I loved it here, that I wanted to stay forever. They looked surprised.

I'm going to digress for a moment, because this kind of interaction keeps coming up. Everyone who can speak English seems to want to know the same thing, why on earth would I come to China? And it's not just the question, it's the feeling behind it. They will often say something like, "China is very poor, why do you want to live here?", "In America you are rich, and life is different here for you", "The food is different here". It's like they are embarrassed of China, and it makes them take my impression too seriously. I tell everyone who asks that it is not so different here, and that I am happier here than I was there, and that everyone is so much nicer. I can't seem to explain that it doesn't matter that I have to squat over a hole in the floor to pee, and have to hang my clothes to dry, and that the electricity is always going out, and that the plumbing is older than my mother, that I am not so spoiled that I can't live this way. Here it is different for me than for them, because here I am free, more free than I have ever been, even quarantined to my apartment. When they ask me why do I want to live in China, I can't explain to them that if I weren't living in China then I would not be meeting all of them, and I would not be living in my first apartment all alone, and I would not be exploring a Chinese supermarket, and I would never have seen, in my whole life I am sure, a birdcage hanging from a lamp post at dusk. These feelings can't cross the language barrier. When I first said the word "love" to Flora, she didn't know what I meant. This is not a word that she was taught when she learned English. I doubt she was taught what joy means, and how can I explain why I want to live in China, if I can't tell her about joy?

In any case, I stumbled a little my first day. There were some moments of awkward silence during which I just stood, smiling, waiting. And they sat, smiling, waiting. They are supposed to be the best English speakers in the school, because English is their major field of study, but they can barely understand me when I speak. They read and pronounce English quite well, every one of them. I found that out today because I walked around and practiced speaking with each of them individually. I notice I had an ear for what each of them could do well, and what each of them did poorly. Some of them had an excellent accent when they spoke the words, but their speech wasn't smooth. They paused and had difficulty moving from word to word. Some of them had very good pronunciation, very precise. Some of them had a good tempo, and spoke quickly, which I know can be hard when you are speaking a foreign language. I am only worried that they couldn't understand me when I spoke, so the students I teach that aren't majoring in English will probably not follow me at all. Oh well, I will burn that bridge when I come to it.

A few minutes into my class, a Chinese woman came in, and told me she was the beginning English teacher there, and asked if she could sit in. That made me somewhat nervous because I thought, Oh, she's going to think we're competition or something and critique me, and tell everyone that I'm a fraud! And she did give me a few suggestions, but they were good ones, and I needed them, and she was very tactful and classy about it, not seeming once to be critical or judgmental. During the students' break she came up to speak to me and tell me all about herself. For some reason she thought it pertinent to mention that her mother and father were doctors, and her husband is a doctor, and her stepfather was a college professor, and her brother is a dentist, and that she is in graduate school to be a history professor. I can't really remember, because she spoke so quickly, and with such enthusiasm. I am glad to find that I am just as good a listener (almost) in China as I am at home. I sat quietly and nodded and smiled, and widened my eyes in amazement at all of her wondrous feats. She kept suggesting all these things we should do together, like go on trips, and take walks, and have dinner at her home. She was so kind, and she was very warm. She kept telling me that I was doing a wonderful job, and then telling me what I could do to improve it. I welcomed the guidance, honestly. I kept it together pretty well by acting confident, but I was floundering a little. Yesterday I was thinking about class today, and getting prepared, and I remember reading somewhere that "Confidence is the best, if not the only, preparation for anything". I really tried to take that to heart today, and be confident even when I was totally lost. And I felt great about the whole class. I felt really happy with it, and I really enjoyed myself.

I also learned some teacher-y things today. I learned that the worst students really do sit in the back of the classroom. And that watching your students you can tell very easily who is doing their work or not. Some of the girls would move their lips aimlessly, not reading the dialogue they were assigned, until I walked past them, and then I could hear them speaking more loudly, "What are you doing after gym practice today?". It was great fun for me. After class several of them followed me around trying to talk to me and talk about America. I would have loved to talk to them, but Flora wanted us to go somewhere. They asked if they could come to my apartment, and I told them yes, any time they wanted. All this evening when I would see my students around campus, they would say hello so cheerfully. I wonder if all teachers feel so special when their students say hello to them outside of class, or if it's just because I have been alone for so many days?

I also had a lovely afternoon with Flora. She took me around to a few shops, because the power is going to be out in my building for four days, and she wanted to make sure I could go to a restaurant for food and buy my water (I have to buy it in these huge jugs like in water coolers in some offices in the States). And she told me the most exciting news. She said that she had arranged with a cook at a restaurant around the corner to give me cooking lessons! He'll show me what to use and how to cook things, and then I will take the examples home to eat. She said she would accompany me the first few lessons to smooth everything over, and then just let me and the cook figure it out for ourselves. I am so happy about this because I have been wanting to take cooking lessons for months, even back in college I was talking about how much I'd like to take cooking lessons. So now I get them one-on-one with a private tutor, and I get to learn how to make Chinese food. I was so excited, and I think that made her laugh, and made her happy. Another digression, I have noticed that when you are happy and people can tell, they are kinder to you, and like you more. I can just feel the way Flora looks at me and rolls her eyes and smiles, that she thinks something like, "Well, it's nothing to be that excited about, but what an endearing creature you are for being so amiable". Well, maybe that's a bit too much, but I think it amused her still. She said the first thing he's going to teach me is how to make "tomato and eggs fried in sauce". Hell yeah! That sounds delicious, as all I've eaten for five days is ramen noodles and sesame crackers, and the occasional orange.

Alas, with every silver lining there is also a puddle of mud. Today Flora took me to a restaurant and I haven't had any meat since I got here. I have some beef jerky, but I'm saving it for a special occasion. So she asked me what I wanted, and I said chicken and rice. I thought that was pretty innocuous.

I got a whole dang chicken.


Feet, beak, bones, skin, and all! I knew when I came here that they use every part of the animal when they cook, and that the animals are not like the animals in the States, because they aren't raised the same and packed with growth hormones, etc. And still, digging through my chicken dinner with chopsticks and pulling up a chicken's little clawed foot somehow managed to make me flinch with disgust. The chicken doesn't even look the same, I mean the meat. In comparison, the chicken meat in America is made out of plastic or something, it's not even identifiable as the same animal. But I promised myself I would be fearless and adventurous here, so I picked through the meat to find pieces that weren't bone or foot, and ended up eating very little, because it smelled like chicken. I mean, you know how fish smells like fish when you cook it? Well, chicken has a smell as well, I just didn't know that until I came here. And it smells like crap.

Secret passageways in the dark castle of China

Tuesday, September 01, 2009

I have only been here for four or five days, and I have been quarantined to my apartment, trapped, unable to flee!! But I am happy, nonetheless, which was the biggest surprise to me of all, because I anticipated loneliness, alienation, fear, discomfort, and sadness, but I really did not imagine that I would spend all day laughing and smiling, thinking of my good luck. And if you are a cynic, like I am, you may have thought, like I have, that this mood shall pass away and I will be, once again, the miserable little ball of fury that I have been in the past. But I've already learned so much here, in such a short time, and the first thing that I learned (or rather relearned, as I am struck by the truth of this so often) is that you can really never guess what you will experience and how it will make you feel in your journeys. I guess this is why I have always been able to swallow the fear and doubt I may feel and make the leap anyway. Because it may be difficult, and it may be terrible, but, by god, it may be wonderful, too.

Another thing I have recently learned, is that I have an intuitive grasp of Microsoft Windows. I discovered this because the computer I was given has a Chinese version of Windows, so I am working from memory alone. And icons, that is another thing I have learned. Icons should be everywhere, they are so useful! I went to the supermarket for dish liquid and laundry detergent, and found it by way of pictures. The bottles of cleaning products have pictures of sparkling clean dishes, clothes, and kitchen counter tops, depending on their cleaning purpose. The hot chocolate is differentiated from the instant coffee by a picture of chocolate squares and a picture of coffee beans. I honestly would never have known the difference otherwise. I have also learned that the internet in China is blocked, like parental blocks, except the parent is the government and the child is the population of China. I was very perturbed, because I can't access the blog that I set up just for my stay in China. So that blog is just floating around in the universe somewhere, useless. In any case, this works just as well, though it isn't as fancy. I was surprised that I can't access YouTube from China, or any popular blog site, or even Facebook, but I can access MySpace. I mean, you would think as far as subverting culture goes, MySpace would be more guilty than Facebook. But I digress. Here are some of the things I have learned so far:


The brooms are different here. They are small and less efficient. When I saw the broom I thought it was a joke. I have seen a broom like this before-- it is used decoratively by some people in the States. It is not entirely useless, as it did help me to remove the large pieces of plaster falling from my apartment walls and ceiling. Flora, who is the woman responsible for me here, told me that she would bring me a new broom. I was so relieved, I thought, of course, this fake broom is just for looks or something. Lo and behold, she brings me another of the exact same broom, only with more bristles. I thanked her politely and hid my skepticism.

There is landscaping all over the place. I have seen some of the most beautiful landscaping here. It's so simple and delicate, and so smart. There are these tables and little barrels for stools carved out of heavy, rough stone. I fantasize about sitting there and playing cards. That's ridiculous, I'm sure. I went to a park where there are two enormous statues made of peach-colored stone. Each statue is four dragons with an archway between them. They are massive and I loved them. Flora told me that those statues are over 500 years old, and that they were built during the Minh dynasty. This park is in the middle of an ugly, dirty place, and it is one of the only spots of grass I have seen so far. I thought is was a strange place to build such statues, and then I realized it was really just a beastly place to build a city, because the statues were here first. In the mornings older women come and do tai chi beneath the statues, wearing white clothes and black slippers. It's all very foreign-looking, and it makes me feel very out of touch with myself. I realize that I will never see something so large and elegant and man-made that is over 500 years old in the States, because they are not even that old. I realize that I will never see anything like it in the world, and it makes me want to look hard, and for a long time.

The lamp posts have large globes shaped like flower buds. I walked by a lamp post at dusk and saw the sun setting behind it, and there was a birdcage with a canary inside hanging from it. The birdcage was black, the canary was yellow, the sunset was many shades of pink. It was one of the more beautiful things I have ever seen in my life, and I thought that if I left China tomorrow, I would already have evened my losses. There are bird cages hanging from the windows of people's apartments at different times throughout the day, and they are all interesting.

I get stared at a lot. Not discreetly, either, and I can't help but stare back and smile, because that's just how I am, so it makes for a strange walk down the street. Today I went to the supermarket for food and water, and I came back to the school when all of the students were getting out of class. They streamed by me in a massive group, and I swear, every single one of them (at least a hundred) did double-takes. I have been getting a lot of double-takes, and in my head I try to pretend it's because I'm famous. I pretend I'm a kind of pop icon in China, new on the scene, fresh and a little off-beat, like Lady Gaga. But this charade is hard to keep up sometimes, and all of these students stared, and then turned around and nudged their friends, and talked about me in Chinese, and laughed, and were very entertained. It is odd for me to be a novelty, because I have spent so much time being so average. Courting invisibility, is what I have always done, blending in as best I can, swooping under the radar as much as possible. Well, that is now impossible.

A carton of cigarettes is 50 yuan. That translates to about $7. I had thought that perhaps I would try to quit smoking while I was here, but then I was quarantined to my apartment, and had nothing to do all day but smoke. So smoke I did, and read, and watch Disney's Dinosaurs for hours on end, and look out the window at the people passing on the street. And mostly smoke. And how can you quit smoking when cigarettes are so cheap and delightful? The packaging is hilarious- very bright colors and sparkles and pictures. I am certain they must be trying to entice children, because a pack of cigarettes here looks like a children's toy.

Lastly, the water smells funny, and is packed with minerals. When I boil it, this plaque is created on the bottom of the pot, like rust, kind of orange-y, and it chips off into the water when I pour it. It is somewhat disgusting, but I am taking everything in stride.

Well, those are a few things that I have learned, that I am very happy to know. There are more, but in a way there are too many to tell. Some things I'm sure I have just absorbed unconsciously into myself and wouldn't even know how to describe.

Tomorrow I teach my first class, and I am very nervous and excited.