Something is really bothering me. Well, a few things are really bothering me but I want to talk about one specific bother: the vagabond life.
By definition, a vagabond is someone with no home, no roots and no ties. A vagrant. A tramp. A person aimlessly drifting from place to place. Reading these last few posts I realize that I sound less like a vagabond and more like a homebody.
I think I have mis-titled my blog.
In my mind, this vagabond life of mine was supposed to incorporate a lot of travel: riding the rails, boarding buses, seeing what there is to see and doing what there is to do. It appears that while aspiring to be a vagabond, I overlooked the fact that I need to earn a living, and in order to do that, I have to incur some ties. Like: being at the same place at the same time the people who hired me expect me to be there. And, actually performing the functions that they hired me to do, or else they would fire me.
Of course if I get fired, then I can truly be a vagabond. I wouldn’t be able to be a vagabond in China; the Chinese don’t even like Chinese vagabonds. They only want foreigners that are willing to work for their keep – go figure! I want to stay in China and I am willing to work for my keep, it is just the more I work, the less of a vagabond I get to be.
Another aspect I totally overlooked while dreaming of vagrancy: I’m not as young as I feel (or act or look). Society says I only have a few more productive years to go and then it is out to pasture with me. Well… a few means about twenty. But still: unless I want to burden social systems or worse! My children, I’d best get to earning some money. Not just enough to live comfortably now but enough to live comfortably when I’m released from my societal obligation to work.
Maybe I’m wrong but I don’t believe that vagabonds think in terms of their retirement.
So: am I a vagabond or not? Well, I aver that I have a vagabond spirit and a homebody body. Beg pardon but I like having a bed to sleep in and I like a few creature comforts. Not many; just a few will do me. I also like to not be hungry, and I like having a bath regularly. Here is another odd quirk about me: I like respect. Not just self-respect, which any self-respecting vagabond may well possess, but also respect from my fellow man. All of these things would be unattainable if I didn’t have at least a few ties. I guess you could say I am a vagabond with pretensions.
So, if I have a vagabond heart while incurring and maintaining some ties to society, why haven’t I done anything about it? With my minimal working schedule and my accommodations provided for me, this set-up is a vagabond-at-heart’s dream! But I’ve not vagabonded nearly as much as the situation allows for. Why?
The first few months here I spent my time getting acclimated, learning my way around and holding fierce debates with myself over whether I’ve made the worst mistake of my life, walking away from everything I had in the States. The next few months I spent in front of any available heat source, and I had no desire to face the world outside where there was only cold air blowing and snow falling. Recently I’ve had to try to figure out what was trying to kill me (see Plain Stir entry) and then I had to get my body back in shape and moving – both from the panic of what I still think was near-death condition and from being virtually sedentary all winter.
And now? Now I’m saving every Fen (penny, in Chinese) I can in order to return to the States for a visit in a little over 2 months. And what will I do while in the States?
Ah, that is where the vagabond comes in! I will go from place to place, on the bus and by train, seeing the ones I love and the sights along the way. I will have no ties and no obligations, no commitments and no deadlines. I will be living with what I can carry – or roll around in my super-convenient roll-around duffle bag. I will be mostly dependent on the goodwill of those who might welcome me in for accommodations. I will have money to buy food so I won’t be hungry, like ye average vagrant might be, and some of that money will go for inexpensive but clean hotels along the way. I won’t have to beg for fare money and I won’t have to stow away on buses and trains because I can pay for my tickets. That is a bit of a relief. But still: it will be more of a vagabond’s life than I’ve lived here. The ‘vagabond with pretensions’ theme persists, I see.
When I return to China after the summer visiting those I love Stateside, I vow to do more traveling and sightseeing than I did this year. I will ride those buses and rails to exotic sounding destinations like Wu Dong Shan, Shenzen and Guizhou. I will go see that giant Buddha statue by the river in Chongqing. Maybe I’ll even go to Urumqi and see the Gobi desert… in the summer months, of course. It will be too cold in the winter months do to so.
Maybe my blog isn’t mis-titled after all.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
The True Origins of Spring Cleaning
It seems that the weather here went from longjohns and jackets to tank tops and shorts almost overnight. Seriously: one day I am bundled to my chattering teeth and the next I am panting for relief from the heat.
In my apartment, this refrigerator I have been living in all winter, conditions are no different. I had expected it to take several months to warm all of this concrete up but it seems, in a matter of weeks I am casting off my quilt and sleeping under just a sheet. I’m not complaining – heavens no! I’m just stating my case as dramatically as I can.
With the advent of spring, naturally I am throwing open the windows and welcoming the warm, fresh air. I am not welcoming mosquitoes, flies and other vermin but they come anyway, in spite of the screens. It seems Spring is a come one, come all proposition. I am glad that wasps do not exist in China, at least not in this region. They definitely would not be invited in.
Something else I am not very enthusiastic about, that welcomes itself into my home and takes up on every horizontal surface: dust and dirt. I cannot imagine anyone welcoming those two in, but that’s beside the point. I do not welcome them but they come in anyway.
Remember when I told you that, rain, snow, sleet or shine there are women that sweep the campus every morning? They do a very good job keeping our campus clean: no fallen leaves or detritus from student revelry will be seen as long as these women patrol with their twig brooms and home made dust pans. It is not a problem: I thank them for keeping our campus neat and tidy. Unfortunately, in the process of sweeping the campus they are raising a dust storm which finds its way directly into my ground floor apartment windows. Open windows, now that Spring is here. Screens do not stop dust so it just comes right in.
And thus we come to Spring cleaning. It is said that, after homes have been shuttered for the winter months and heated with coal and wood that March, the time when it is warm enough to open windows but not warm enough to encourage bug life, was the ideal time to clean. Makes sense, and I probably wouldn’t dispute it.
Another source reports that the genesis of Spring Cleaning comes from the Jewish tradition of ridding the house of all leavening agents prior to Passover, when eating leavened bread and other such treated foods are forbidden. As convention goes, the house is cleaned top to bottom and on the eve of the start of Passover celebration, grains or crumbs of leavening agent are hunted by candlelight to make sure that the house is truly free of blasphemy.
However Spring Cleaning got started, I’d like to offer my own theory. On the first few warm days of Spring, when the weather is comfortable enough to throw open the windows, you see just how dirty the house got. Of course in the winter you didn’t really care because it was too cold to venture into every room in the house. You just used the bathroom for its utilitarian function and did minimal cleaning, cleaned only what you had to in the kitchen so that, when you prepared food you did not poison yourself with a salmonella bacterium, and the room that you hung out in the most, you cleaned only what you had to so that you wouldn’t set fire to the apartment using the space heater. But now it is warm enough for you to use all of the rooms in the house regularly again. So now, it is time to clean them.
I thought about that as I chased dust bunnies and swabbed my floors clean recently. Maybe if I had cleaned my house all winter it would have generated body heat – movement does that, you know. Maybe I would not have resented Ole Man Winter so much if I hadn’t felt compelled to huddle in, next to or in front of anything that provided me warmth and wait the day out until I could crawl under my quilt and into my heated bed again.
Of course, that is easy for me to say now, while the mercury registers a comfortable 75 degrees and I am sitting around in a tank top and capris. Recalling that, not so long ago the mercury stopped at 45 degrees in here and stubbornly refused to climb any higher seems academic, like a pain from an old injury, long since recovered from. While in the thick of winter I daren’t have plunged my hands into buckets of water or crawled around on these cold, cold floors on my hands and knees for any reason, no matter how big the dust bunnies got.
But now… now I have a need for cool, clear water on my hands and bleach solution on my clothes. Now I like being in each of my 4 rooms, no matter what their function. Now I welcome brightly lit rooms and enjoy lounging in my living room. Now I like to go into my bathroom and I like to take showers that last longer than 3 minutes – now that I have a hefty supply of hot water.
Now I need to be able to walk around barefooted and the only way to do that is to clean the floors regularly. The dust still comes in. But everything else is pretty much clean in here.
In my apartment, this refrigerator I have been living in all winter, conditions are no different. I had expected it to take several months to warm all of this concrete up but it seems, in a matter of weeks I am casting off my quilt and sleeping under just a sheet. I’m not complaining – heavens no! I’m just stating my case as dramatically as I can.
With the advent of spring, naturally I am throwing open the windows and welcoming the warm, fresh air. I am not welcoming mosquitoes, flies and other vermin but they come anyway, in spite of the screens. It seems Spring is a come one, come all proposition. I am glad that wasps do not exist in China, at least not in this region. They definitely would not be invited in.
Something else I am not very enthusiastic about, that welcomes itself into my home and takes up on every horizontal surface: dust and dirt. I cannot imagine anyone welcoming those two in, but that’s beside the point. I do not welcome them but they come in anyway.
Remember when I told you that, rain, snow, sleet or shine there are women that sweep the campus every morning? They do a very good job keeping our campus clean: no fallen leaves or detritus from student revelry will be seen as long as these women patrol with their twig brooms and home made dust pans. It is not a problem: I thank them for keeping our campus neat and tidy. Unfortunately, in the process of sweeping the campus they are raising a dust storm which finds its way directly into my ground floor apartment windows. Open windows, now that Spring is here. Screens do not stop dust so it just comes right in.
And thus we come to Spring cleaning. It is said that, after homes have been shuttered for the winter months and heated with coal and wood that March, the time when it is warm enough to open windows but not warm enough to encourage bug life, was the ideal time to clean. Makes sense, and I probably wouldn’t dispute it.
Another source reports that the genesis of Spring Cleaning comes from the Jewish tradition of ridding the house of all leavening agents prior to Passover, when eating leavened bread and other such treated foods are forbidden. As convention goes, the house is cleaned top to bottom and on the eve of the start of Passover celebration, grains or crumbs of leavening agent are hunted by candlelight to make sure that the house is truly free of blasphemy.
However Spring Cleaning got started, I’d like to offer my own theory. On the first few warm days of Spring, when the weather is comfortable enough to throw open the windows, you see just how dirty the house got. Of course in the winter you didn’t really care because it was too cold to venture into every room in the house. You just used the bathroom for its utilitarian function and did minimal cleaning, cleaned only what you had to in the kitchen so that, when you prepared food you did not poison yourself with a salmonella bacterium, and the room that you hung out in the most, you cleaned only what you had to so that you wouldn’t set fire to the apartment using the space heater. But now it is warm enough for you to use all of the rooms in the house regularly again. So now, it is time to clean them.
I thought about that as I chased dust bunnies and swabbed my floors clean recently. Maybe if I had cleaned my house all winter it would have generated body heat – movement does that, you know. Maybe I would not have resented Ole Man Winter so much if I hadn’t felt compelled to huddle in, next to or in front of anything that provided me warmth and wait the day out until I could crawl under my quilt and into my heated bed again.
Of course, that is easy for me to say now, while the mercury registers a comfortable 75 degrees and I am sitting around in a tank top and capris. Recalling that, not so long ago the mercury stopped at 45 degrees in here and stubbornly refused to climb any higher seems academic, like a pain from an old injury, long since recovered from. While in the thick of winter I daren’t have plunged my hands into buckets of water or crawled around on these cold, cold floors on my hands and knees for any reason, no matter how big the dust bunnies got.
But now… now I have a need for cool, clear water on my hands and bleach solution on my clothes. Now I like being in each of my 4 rooms, no matter what their function. Now I welcome brightly lit rooms and enjoy lounging in my living room. Now I like to go into my bathroom and I like to take showers that last longer than 3 minutes – now that I have a hefty supply of hot water.
Now I need to be able to walk around barefooted and the only way to do that is to clean the floors regularly. The dust still comes in. But everything else is pretty much clean in here.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
A Picture of Obstinacy
As I stood in line waiting for the bus that would take me back to town from The Gardens, I first heard and then saw this little girl. Maybe she was tired and overwrought. Maybe she didn’t want to walk anymore, or maybe she didn’t want to wait in line for a bus. For all I know, she didn’t like what her mother was proposing serving for dinner. Whatever was plaguing her, she was definitely letting her mother and the world know she was displeased.
It started with a long shout. I didn’t exactly time her but it seems that she took a deep breath and maintained her one note shout for as long as she had air in her lungs. And then, she stopped dead in her tracks and refused to move another step. Her mother, not much taller than she is, did her best to persuade her to get going again.
As we were all lined up single file to wait for the bus and this little drama played out in the open area where the bus would eventually pull up, all of us were witnesses to this spectacle. We probably would not have noticed had the girl not shouted but because of that long cry, our attention was riveted.
Her mother stroked her shoulders and talked with her, and then grabbed her arm and tried to pull her along. No dice, Daughter pulled her arm away and planted her feet. Then, Mother put her arm around her and talked some more, and then pulled again. Again Daughter planted herself. Over and over again Mother tried to convince Daughter to get moving; repeatedly Daughter refused to move. At one point it seems mother was close to losing her temper. She grabbed her daughter’s hand and pulled mightily. The child wrangled herself free and planted her feet again.
This went on long enough for me to decide that this would be an interesting blog entry and to vaguely formulate it, and for me to grab my camera and shoot this picture. This was the upteenth time that the mother tried to coerce her child to move and the girl refused to go.
Children resisting parents has been going on for as long as parents have been raising children. There is nothing surprising about that. And, children defying parents in public is also nothing new. Anyone who has been to a grocery store or to a Walmart has seen such spectacles. Maybe you even threw a fit yourself when you were a child, or your children have displayed their temper in public. Remember how embarrassed you felt? How did you deal with it?
In China, such public displays of childhood obstinacy are unusual and rare. ‘Face’ – respect and decorum, are so important in this society that, even if you are in pain, a grimace is all that is socially tolerable. Our little pig-tailed shouter did not give her mother face, nor did she maintain face. That is what was so surprising about this little display.
How is it that this girl totally flouted culturally acceptable behavior rules? Has she never been taught about face, or has her mother been overly permissive with her enough times that the girl dominates the parent? How is it that she doesn’t care about her public persona when, in China, such a persona is generally very carefully cultivated? If she doesn’t give her mother face in public, how is their private relationship?
Other children waiting in line with their parents were well behaved and respectful, even if they did run around and play a bit. I daresay that they might have been as shocked as we adults were while beholding this little show. It seems to me that maybe, they could have surrounded our little Drama Queen and shamed her into acting right. Peer pressure is one way to get kids to fly right and behave in this society.
I am scared to think that newfangled child rearing methods in China allow more permissiveness and indulgence toward children that previous generations have experienced. As parents all over the world have discovered, indulging your child has disastrous consequences. Not setting boundaries for your child has long lasting consequences on their behavior, not just as children but as adults. Considering the attitude of the ‘Jiu Ling Hou’ generation that I talked about in the Bah Ling Hou entry, you can imagine that, if Chinese parents become even more permissive than the parents of jiu ling hou children, Chinese society is headed for…
I’ll leave that to your imagination. Living in America and seeing the effects of an overly permissive parenting style, you can pretty much tell that there is going to be a culture clash between tradition and modern attitudes in this society.
I am surprised that someone did not go talk to the girl, especially one of the bus monitors or some other official. Here, it is not uncommon for total strangers to berate other people’s children for public displays of misbehavior or mischief. I think we might have been too shocked to do anything but watch. Or perhaps that is another manifestation of the changes in Chinese society. I felt terrible for the mother. She was withering by the minute.
Finally our little shouter got moving. I don’t know what motivated her to do so. Maybe she got tired of being a spectacle or maybe her mother told her that if she kept standing there she would get hit by a bus. Whatever it was that got her moving did not seem to be a compromise between what she wanted and what her mother wanted. She crossed her arms and stomped off, well ahead of her mother. And she refused to stand close to her mother while in line, either. I lost sight of her eventually, as she darted among the passengers in an effort to stay away from Mom. Soon enough the bus pulled up and the boarding of passengers took front stage.
I’m glad this little girl was not on the bus I got on. I didn’t want to watch her not give her mother face anymore.
The Best Places
It is said that the best things in life are free. I contend that the best places in Wuhan are far away.
For example: Aloha restaurant, in Hanyang. Although I only have to ride one bus to get there, that bus ride is nearly 45 minutes and involves a stretch of the Third Ring Road, a road that loops around the city. Or Metro in Hankou. Getting to Metro takes over one hour and involves at least 2 buses and, if you don’t catch the right bus in front of campus, it also involves a one-kilometer walk to catch the direct bus to Metro. By comparison, one can take the circuitous bus from the train station and be Metro-bound for an hour and a half, part of that through the most crowded area of Hankou.
My latest find is the Botanical Garden. Located in the Hongshan district, it is at the very end of the bus 402 line. Getting there involves catching a bus in front of campus, preferably bus 202 that goes straight to the train station, where I then board bus 402 and ride it till the end of the line. The entire time spent reaching the Garden: 3 hours.
You might think: three hours just to get to the botanical garden? Insane! Guess what? I agree with you. But, on the other hand, there are so few places to hang out in Wuhan that don’t involve crowds, shopping, eating or drinking that the Botanical Garden is a welcome relief.
I had tried once before to get to the Gardens but I had misread the bus itinerary and got off the bus 3 stops before I would have gotten there. This time I was bound and determined to go, even though it was Sunday, and a holiday to boot. I should have remembered that getting out on Sundays and on holidays is an exercise in frustration because of all the crowds. To go out on a Sunday holiday is insanity. I should have remembered.
Nevertheless, the weather was beautiful and I was primed to go. Come what may, I was going to the Gardens today.
After stopping by my favorite snack stand for a bowl of Re Gan Mian and conversation, I made my way to the bus stop. Bus 202 came by shortly after and it was very crowded, but I didn’t mind standing. It is just a short bus ride to the train station, and I would be sure to get a seat on the bus that would take me to the Gardens.
Scratch that! Getting on the bus 402 on the weekends calls for the skills of a pugilist and the patience of a saint. This bus line is very popular on weekends because it hits all of the tourist hotspots. Even though there are monitors to make sure people act at least civil while waiting for the empty bus to pull up, they do nothing to make sure that civility reigns while people are getting on the bus. Pushing, shoving and fighting are still the norm. So aggravating! We’re all getting on the bus, people! Can’t you behave a little?
You know, I’ve come to believe that bus boarding is considered an Olympic sport to the Chinese. I honestly think that they have fun with all the fighting and pushing and shoving. Especially this younger generation. And generally I don’t mind all the pushing and shoving. Mostly I’m not impacted by it because of my sheer size and my ‘foreigner’ status.
What I do mind is people reserving seats. If it comes down to fighting to get on the bus, seats should be on a first come/first serve basis. Although there were several vacant seats when I finally fought my way onto the bus, people were reserving them for their friends who were still caught up in the struggle at the door. I ended up having to stand until the first major shopping stop in Hankou. That did not put me in a good mood. I didn’t mind having to stand, but I did mind people reserving seats. I cheered myself with the knowledge that I would be riding to the end of the line whereas most of these seat reservers would have to fight to get off the bus so they can go shopping.
Soon enough I did get a seat and enjoyed the rest of the ride to the Garden in relative comfort. However, I was surprised that the bus was still so crowded at the end of the line. And then I remembered: Sunday. Holiday. Of course people are going to seek destinations like the Botanical Gardens. But surely the Gardens wouldn’t be so crowded that touring it would be unpleasant, would it?
Actually, it wasn’t. Other than attractions like hothouses, flower beds and the major paths, there was enough room in the Gardens for everyone. I chose less crowded paths and enjoyed my time tremendously. As a matter of fact, I was impressed.
The Wuhan Botanical Garden is not so much a study in and display of botany as it is a 75-hectare fauna conservation area. There are several paths that wind through areas of wild growth and naturally situated plant life. There are distinctly delineated areas such as bamboo and conifer areas, but mostly it seems that greenery grows, unorganized and free. I can easily imagine myself, on my days off, coming to the Garden to roam recessed paths. The Botanical Garden will be my new hangout, in fact. No more wondering where I could go that doesn’t involve crowds or spending money.
But, back to what I saw on this introductory visit. It seems that the Chinese ideal of touring the Gardens is to take as many pictures as possible. Some, it appeared, snapped this picture, and then rushed on to the next picture worthy item to snap it. Posing family in front of foliage also appeared important. “And here we are in front of a cactus. And now here we are in front of a tree. The next three pictures are of us in front of the waterfall.” Really: what do they do with all these pictures? One particular photographer did not even seem to behold or admire what he was snapping. With his camera set to ‘macro’ setting he rushed from bloom to bloom, capturing it forever on his media card.
In the back areas of the Gardens, it seems anything is allowed. There were vendors selling buckets of noodles for picnics, bottled water and other snacks. Cotton candy and bubble toys for little ones. Tea and soda stands stood at nearly every intersecting path. The strangest thing I saw was this man, who had strung a hammock between two trees and was taking a nap with his young son. It takes a trusting soul to sleep this soundly in a public park, doesn’t it?
The coolest part was the little cars! Do you know those little Tyco plastic bubble cars that most every toddler in America has driven? Well, here those cars are battery powered and adults drive them all over the Garden! For some it seemed to be their first driving experience and they didn’t keep to the path too well. Again we pedestrians had to be wary of vehicle traffic. And in a park, at that!
The outing ended with an hour-long wait for a bus. Here the bus monitors did make people line up for the bus; no pushing or shoving. Although I did get a seat, I gave it up a few stops later to a father cradling his sleeping child who was reduced to standing in the aisle. I regretted giving up my seat because my feet hurt from all the walking I did, but I ended up getting to sit soon enough, so not all was lost and I was comforted by knowing I had done my good deed for the day.
And not just that. I was also comforted by the idea that I had found a nice, new hangout.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
First Came a Plant
Today was my ‘early day’, the class I teach at 8AM. I always dread waking up to the music of my alarm, no matter how cheerful the music is. It wasn’t so bad this morning. That might have been because I spent a great day out yesterday with George and Yoyo (see previous entry).
This particular group of students is the hardest to manage. They just don’t seem interested in whatever lesson or activity I have planned for them. All 28 students cram themselves in the last 3 rows of the classroom; thus I am forced to abandon the blackboard or the computer unit in the front of class, and sit on a table two rows down from them to address them properly.
They are all very concerned about an important test they will have to take in June called CET4. Like the TM 4 for the English majors, the CET4 measures proficiency and skill for the Business English majors. This test centers on vocabulary and listening skills. The students have a list of 5,000 words that they must be able to spell, interpret and use in a sentence correctly in order to pass the test.
Most often, these kids are poring over their word list, and today was no exception. As a treat (and a break for me), I had decided to show them a movie to sharpen their listening skills. With dismay I noted that maybe only a third of the class was actually paying attention to the movie; the rest were working on their word list. Several times I had to remind them that they were supposed to be watching a movie; they were getting quite loud, conversing with each other. In Chinese, at that! And here I thought this was an English class.
On the positive side, they were all working on their word lists and at least hearing English being spoken. On the negative side, the movie went virtually unnoticed. I could tell because, when the funny parts came up, only one or two actually laughed. To be perfectly fair, the room was flooded with sunshine and, even with the curtains drawn, it was really too bright in there to see the screen well.
Are you wondering where the plant comes in yet? Why did I title this entry so? I’m getting to it!
After class I returned home, ate some breakfast and had a chat with my Gabriel. And then, while I was still dressed for outdoors I went to do my marketing for the week. Feeling very ‘Hausfrau’, with my shopping bag slung over my shoulder and wallet clutched in my hand, I made stops at the farmer’s market, the supermarket and the stationary shop (to buy notebooks). When I got home I changed clothes and started on the house. Sweeping, dusting, cleaning and putting a load of clothes in the machine to wash. Still feeling very much the hausfrau, I have to admit.
Setting my dining room chairs out on my patio, I took the quilt off my bed and stretched it out over the chair backs in the sunshine to air out. Today being one of the few days where dust wasn’t flying around Wuhan and the air was clear, I figured it was a good day to do so. I came back into the house and decided my plant needed its kiss of sunshine too, so I gave it some water and put it on the window sill.
I smiled with pleasure at these small tasks. The red of my quilt intensified the sun shining in through my window and my plant, with its new leaves, dressed my windowsill in homey pleasance.
An unformed thought skipped through my head as my gaze went from my little plant around the rest of my house. First came the plant, and then I hung a picture. I strolled into the kitchen. The new pot I had bought gleamed in the dishrack and fresh vegetables, today’s bounty from the farmer’s market lay on the counter, ready for cooking. The clean smell of bleach wafted from the bathroom, where I had just scrubbed. My bed, freshly made save for my quilt, waited only for nightfall to welcome me back into its embrace.
That’s how it starts, folks. First comes a plant, and then you hang a picture. Pretty soon you’re buying things for the house, and fussing over how much sunshine your quilt gets. Next thing you know, you have a home, not just a place to lay your head.
And that’s what it feels like to be here. Not just an apartment, but a home. MY home. I feel more ‘home’ here than I did in the home I was buying in America, than in the apartment I was renting prior to moving to China or pretty much anywhere I’ve lived in my entire life. This is my home. And the irony is that I don’t pay a thing for it; it is mine only on loan, as long as I have this job. And, I won’t even be in these same four walls next year; I’ll get a new apartment. But still; fussing about and doing my simple chores gives me a homey feeling. I like being here.
Now: what am I going to do about these students of mine? That is what the notebooks are for. I had noticed many of them using scraps of paper or the backs of their word list to make notes on. I bought each one a notebook so they can copy their wordlist into a composite document. Until their test, we will pursue activities that center around that all important test criteria, activities like spelling bees and word definitions. Their upcoming midterm exam will… have nothing to do with their spelling list. But I will make it easy on them. I only want the answer to one question, which they will each have to give orally:
Why do you sit in the back of the classroom?
This particular group of students is the hardest to manage. They just don’t seem interested in whatever lesson or activity I have planned for them. All 28 students cram themselves in the last 3 rows of the classroom; thus I am forced to abandon the blackboard or the computer unit in the front of class, and sit on a table two rows down from them to address them properly.
They are all very concerned about an important test they will have to take in June called CET4. Like the TM 4 for the English majors, the CET4 measures proficiency and skill for the Business English majors. This test centers on vocabulary and listening skills. The students have a list of 5,000 words that they must be able to spell, interpret and use in a sentence correctly in order to pass the test.
Most often, these kids are poring over their word list, and today was no exception. As a treat (and a break for me), I had decided to show them a movie to sharpen their listening skills. With dismay I noted that maybe only a third of the class was actually paying attention to the movie; the rest were working on their word list. Several times I had to remind them that they were supposed to be watching a movie; they were getting quite loud, conversing with each other. In Chinese, at that! And here I thought this was an English class.
On the positive side, they were all working on their word lists and at least hearing English being spoken. On the negative side, the movie went virtually unnoticed. I could tell because, when the funny parts came up, only one or two actually laughed. To be perfectly fair, the room was flooded with sunshine and, even with the curtains drawn, it was really too bright in there to see the screen well.
Are you wondering where the plant comes in yet? Why did I title this entry so? I’m getting to it!
After class I returned home, ate some breakfast and had a chat with my Gabriel. And then, while I was still dressed for outdoors I went to do my marketing for the week. Feeling very ‘Hausfrau’, with my shopping bag slung over my shoulder and wallet clutched in my hand, I made stops at the farmer’s market, the supermarket and the stationary shop (to buy notebooks). When I got home I changed clothes and started on the house. Sweeping, dusting, cleaning and putting a load of clothes in the machine to wash. Still feeling very much the hausfrau, I have to admit.
Setting my dining room chairs out on my patio, I took the quilt off my bed and stretched it out over the chair backs in the sunshine to air out. Today being one of the few days where dust wasn’t flying around Wuhan and the air was clear, I figured it was a good day to do so. I came back into the house and decided my plant needed its kiss of sunshine too, so I gave it some water and put it on the window sill.
I smiled with pleasure at these small tasks. The red of my quilt intensified the sun shining in through my window and my plant, with its new leaves, dressed my windowsill in homey pleasance.
An unformed thought skipped through my head as my gaze went from my little plant around the rest of my house. First came the plant, and then I hung a picture. I strolled into the kitchen. The new pot I had bought gleamed in the dishrack and fresh vegetables, today’s bounty from the farmer’s market lay on the counter, ready for cooking. The clean smell of bleach wafted from the bathroom, where I had just scrubbed. My bed, freshly made save for my quilt, waited only for nightfall to welcome me back into its embrace.
That’s how it starts, folks. First comes a plant, and then you hang a picture. Pretty soon you’re buying things for the house, and fussing over how much sunshine your quilt gets. Next thing you know, you have a home, not just a place to lay your head.
And that’s what it feels like to be here. Not just an apartment, but a home. MY home. I feel more ‘home’ here than I did in the home I was buying in America, than in the apartment I was renting prior to moving to China or pretty much anywhere I’ve lived in my entire life. This is my home. And the irony is that I don’t pay a thing for it; it is mine only on loan, as long as I have this job. And, I won’t even be in these same four walls next year; I’ll get a new apartment. But still; fussing about and doing my simple chores gives me a homey feeling. I like being here.
Now: what am I going to do about these students of mine? That is what the notebooks are for. I had noticed many of them using scraps of paper or the backs of their word list to make notes on. I bought each one a notebook so they can copy their wordlist into a composite document. Until their test, we will pursue activities that center around that all important test criteria, activities like spelling bees and word definitions. Their upcoming midterm exam will… have nothing to do with their spelling list. But I will make it easy on them. I only want the answer to one question, which they will each have to give orally:
Why do you sit in the back of the classroom?
An Evening with George and Yoyo
Do you remember George and Yoyo, my two young friends from the Zoo (See A Day at the Zoo, Part 2). Last October when I went to the zoo, I met this lovely young couple who not only accompanied me through the zoo but comforted me and wiped my tears away when I cried because the animals were so mistreated. George had even warned me that that show was not entertaining, unless you like watching cruelty to animals, but I had to be a glutton for punishment and go see it for myself.
Over the Chinese Holiday season and through the busy and not so busy months we fell out of touch. And then, Yoyo manifested herself again! One day she appeared in my inbox, all fresh and pert and pretty and sweet. She invited me to dinner; with joy I accepted.
Her big news is that she had gotten a job! She was so excited and wanted to share every detail of her employment with me, starting with a tour of her office and meeting her coworkers. What a lovely group of women they are! They all wanted to know if I use Skype and if so, what my Skype name is. Naturally, I shared that information with them. My contact list grows…
While waiting for George to get off work, Yoyo and I walked around the neighborhood where she works. Poor little thing! She was so nervous about us talking again that she had spent hours making notes about what we could talk about, and how to say things correctly in English! I told her – in Chinese, that we are good friends and there is no need to be nervous. She could even speak Chinese if she felt more comfortable using her own language because I had learned a lot since our last meeting.
Visibly relieved, she put away her notes and from there, our conversation flowed naturally, as though we were lifelong friends seeing each other after a long absence. Switching back and forth between languages and only occasionally using her dictionary, she told me of her doings since our zoo adventure: finishing school, finding a job, presenting her parents with the news that she would stay on in Wuhan after graduation to be with George instead of going back to her native province. Her mother was a bit heartbroken but her father took the news well. He only hopes and wishes for her happiness. If she finds it with George, then here is where she needs to be.
And here with George is clearly where she belongs. He finally got off work and called to let her know where to wait for him and how long it would take for him to get there. From the second I saw these two together again, I knew they were deeply in love and intended to spend their lives together. For together they are: as inseparable as though physically bound. If either of their parents has seen them together, they surely must know that George and Yoyo is a good match.
George is much more handsome than I remember him being. Or, it could be that, freed from the burden of school and out of winter clothes bundling he appears freer than he did on our first meeting. Yoyo did point out that he now styles his hair in such a way that makes him look a bit taller. I thought there was something different about him… No matter what the change, he is a fine young man, inside and out. He too intended to make the most of his evening with his foreigner friend: selecting a great restaurant for us to dine in, taking us for a nice walk along tree-lined boulevards in the cool evening air and making sure I was in need of nothing at any time. He even asked if he was walking too fast and if my feet hurt, as though he would carry me on his back should I be in pain!
One funny anecdote: he asked me if I knew what the road we were walking along was called. “Shui guo lu” (Fruit Street) – I replied. He, surprised, asked me if I knew about this street’s history. Presumably it is where fruit vendors of yore came to ply their trade. No, I had just read a street sign designating it as such. We had a good laugh and he told me not only about the history of Fruit Street, but also what it meant to him personally: he had grown up in this neighborhood and could testify that, at one time, fruit vendors abounded. As a young boy running the streets he would pilfer a sweet treat and then run into an alley to enjoy it. The look on his face – bashful grin, contrasted by a mischievous twinkle in his eyes told the story better than his words ever could.
I wish I had more dinner companions! Authentic Chinese food is so good I would gladly eat in a different restaurant every day, if I could. It is not ‘proper’ for a woman to dine alone in China, so I have to wait until companions can be found or until I get invited. Such a pity! This evening, my dinner companions, while thrilled at presenting me with traditional foods that I had never sampled before, spent a fair amount of time reveling in each other. They kept up a steady prattle of conversation between themselves, almost as though they were drowning into each other but loving the experience of it. I enjoyed watching these young lovers in the business of being together and did not feel left out at all. Sharing this level of intimacy is a sign of friendship in China. How George and Yoyo shared with me that night!
The evening came to an end by pursuing buses. As it was after 9:30, catching a bus that would take me home presented a challenge. A lot of buses stop running after 10:00. Because I would have to make a connection to a bus that would take me to the campus, we had to run all over the neighborhood to find just the right bus. After a marathon hike we finally found bus 577. Soon enough it pulled up. We exchanged hugs and I shouted “thank you” as I boarded.
Side by side, my young friends walked home.
Over the Chinese Holiday season and through the busy and not so busy months we fell out of touch. And then, Yoyo manifested herself again! One day she appeared in my inbox, all fresh and pert and pretty and sweet. She invited me to dinner; with joy I accepted.
Her big news is that she had gotten a job! She was so excited and wanted to share every detail of her employment with me, starting with a tour of her office and meeting her coworkers. What a lovely group of women they are! They all wanted to know if I use Skype and if so, what my Skype name is. Naturally, I shared that information with them. My contact list grows…
While waiting for George to get off work, Yoyo and I walked around the neighborhood where she works. Poor little thing! She was so nervous about us talking again that she had spent hours making notes about what we could talk about, and how to say things correctly in English! I told her – in Chinese, that we are good friends and there is no need to be nervous. She could even speak Chinese if she felt more comfortable using her own language because I had learned a lot since our last meeting.
Visibly relieved, she put away her notes and from there, our conversation flowed naturally, as though we were lifelong friends seeing each other after a long absence. Switching back and forth between languages and only occasionally using her dictionary, she told me of her doings since our zoo adventure: finishing school, finding a job, presenting her parents with the news that she would stay on in Wuhan after graduation to be with George instead of going back to her native province. Her mother was a bit heartbroken but her father took the news well. He only hopes and wishes for her happiness. If she finds it with George, then here is where she needs to be.
And here with George is clearly where she belongs. He finally got off work and called to let her know where to wait for him and how long it would take for him to get there. From the second I saw these two together again, I knew they were deeply in love and intended to spend their lives together. For together they are: as inseparable as though physically bound. If either of their parents has seen them together, they surely must know that George and Yoyo is a good match.
George is much more handsome than I remember him being. Or, it could be that, freed from the burden of school and out of winter clothes bundling he appears freer than he did on our first meeting. Yoyo did point out that he now styles his hair in such a way that makes him look a bit taller. I thought there was something different about him… No matter what the change, he is a fine young man, inside and out. He too intended to make the most of his evening with his foreigner friend: selecting a great restaurant for us to dine in, taking us for a nice walk along tree-lined boulevards in the cool evening air and making sure I was in need of nothing at any time. He even asked if he was walking too fast and if my feet hurt, as though he would carry me on his back should I be in pain!
One funny anecdote: he asked me if I knew what the road we were walking along was called. “Shui guo lu” (Fruit Street) – I replied. He, surprised, asked me if I knew about this street’s history. Presumably it is where fruit vendors of yore came to ply their trade. No, I had just read a street sign designating it as such. We had a good laugh and he told me not only about the history of Fruit Street, but also what it meant to him personally: he had grown up in this neighborhood and could testify that, at one time, fruit vendors abounded. As a young boy running the streets he would pilfer a sweet treat and then run into an alley to enjoy it. The look on his face – bashful grin, contrasted by a mischievous twinkle in his eyes told the story better than his words ever could.
I wish I had more dinner companions! Authentic Chinese food is so good I would gladly eat in a different restaurant every day, if I could. It is not ‘proper’ for a woman to dine alone in China, so I have to wait until companions can be found or until I get invited. Such a pity! This evening, my dinner companions, while thrilled at presenting me with traditional foods that I had never sampled before, spent a fair amount of time reveling in each other. They kept up a steady prattle of conversation between themselves, almost as though they were drowning into each other but loving the experience of it. I enjoyed watching these young lovers in the business of being together and did not feel left out at all. Sharing this level of intimacy is a sign of friendship in China. How George and Yoyo shared with me that night!
The evening came to an end by pursuing buses. As it was after 9:30, catching a bus that would take me home presented a challenge. A lot of buses stop running after 10:00. Because I would have to make a connection to a bus that would take me to the campus, we had to run all over the neighborhood to find just the right bus. After a marathon hike we finally found bus 577. Soon enough it pulled up. We exchanged hugs and I shouted “thank you” as I boarded.
Side by side, my young friends walked home.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
I Took a Break
I took a break. Well, not exactly. My conspirators took a break. They have a lot going on right now and I did not feel it was fair to burden them with taking time away from all of their doings and goings-on to post blog entries.
I have been busily writing about my doings over here, and soon you will read all about them, I (we) promise. Lots of good things coming up; I hope you will enjoy them.
Admittedly we should have posted this at the front end of the break. It would only be fair to you. But, as their business matter had only come up suddenly, we did not have time to plan for it and keep you informed. I apologize for that. Please let me turn the clock back and make that right. If I could, I would.
In the meantime: I have realized that blog writing can be a very selfish endeavor. Whereas it is truly my pleasure to keep you updated, I have to confess that I miss your side of the conversation completely. Not by any fault of yours, of course. That is just the nature of blog writing.
So: how have you been? What have you been up to? Please share with me. I’ve missed you so much.
But I’ll be back soon with more news and observations of life and goings-on in China.
Thank you for your patience and understanding.
I have been busily writing about my doings over here, and soon you will read all about them, I (we) promise. Lots of good things coming up; I hope you will enjoy them.
Admittedly we should have posted this at the front end of the break. It would only be fair to you. But, as their business matter had only come up suddenly, we did not have time to plan for it and keep you informed. I apologize for that. Please let me turn the clock back and make that right. If I could, I would.
In the meantime: I have realized that blog writing can be a very selfish endeavor. Whereas it is truly my pleasure to keep you updated, I have to confess that I miss your side of the conversation completely. Not by any fault of yours, of course. That is just the nature of blog writing.
So: how have you been? What have you been up to? Please share with me. I’ve missed you so much.
But I’ll be back soon with more news and observations of life and goings-on in China.
Thank you for your patience and understanding.
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