Mercy me. Here I am with this blog that I haven't touched in six months, and Justin goes and announces to the Family at West Side that if they want to keep up with our life in China, his wife does a blog. No pressure. So I guess I'd better get back on the ball. Perhaps I'll make this my New Year's resolution.
Let me do a quick recap. We did some traveling over the summer, seeing some of the most famous sights in China -- 西湖 West Lake, famous for its poetical beauty, and 黄山Yellow Mountain, famous for its jaw-dropping rock formations swimming in thick fog. We met a Belgian who taught me that french fries and mayonnaise are from Belgium (apparently all good things originated in Belgium; other people just keep taking credit). We got stuck in Beijing and detoured to Tianjin, only to get stuck there too.
Our fall semester was pretty much the normal work routine, which means we were run off our feet. We had a Halloween bash that was hugely successful, a Thanksgiving dinner that was absolutely lovely, and a Christmas movie night that was fantastic, except for the power outage in the middle of the Muppets' Christmas Carol.
It's funny, looking back, that all the days blur together. I know there were so many moments that were probably blog-worthy. Teaching Connor to read, for example. Making caves under his bunk bed. His insistence that he just had to have a big flashlight (this came in handy during the Christmas movie power outage). Starting to homeschool. Discovering mold in our apartment again and having to rearrange bedroom furniture in hopes that more air circulation would help keep it at bay. Buying two hamsters, a bunny, and a cat. Accidentally killing the hamsters (Connor still thinks they're playing outside in the -10 degree weather). Discovering that Justin's cat allergies are no joke, thus finding the cat a home with two students who smuggled him, yowling in a backpack, into their dorm room. Welcoming a new Sister into the Family and being super thankful that we have a bathtub instead of having to fill up the kiddie pool in the living room. Lugging heavy buckets of water was getting old, even if it was for the best reason in the world.
And now we are back state-side, visiting family, getting check-ups, and apparently blogging again. Justin is giddy at being able to watch football games for the first time in three years, Connor's little mind is boggled at getting to ride a car almost daily, and we're all thrilled to be enjoying good Christian fellowship. It won't be long before we're back on a plane heading "home" again.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
The Disasterous Class
Okay. I'm a bad blogger. This is undeniable, since it's been....oh...about four months since the last post. My apologies. See, the thing is, I've grown accustomed to life in China. There's not that much that surprises me or makes for blogging-worthy stories, because it's routine now. Open bathroom stalls where people watch you pee? No biggie. Being crushed in the pressing crowd to get on a bus? Mundane. Spitting, gawking, the ever-lasting chorus of 'hello' followed by giggles every time you step foot out the door? Please. That's newbie stuff.
But today was a blog-worthy day. Mostly this morning. Let me give you some background.
As you know, last winter we studied Chinese in another city (due to the ridiculous weather up here in the frigid north). This summer, to save on money, we decided to try staying here and trekking across the river (easily a full hour on a crowded, non-air-conditioned bus with people who have never heard of deoderant) to go to class. We weighed our options and decided to take classes separately with private tutors. We contacted the school that Ryan and Rachel have been attending, and got things all lined up. Justin was going to be studying with their teacher, and I was going to have someone different. I actually requested this, as their teacher is a man, and I'm absolutely not comfortable taking one-on-one classes with a man. Besides appearances (sketchy) it is said in China that every man between, oh, thirty and sixty is a pervert. Something like that. It's a wide age range -- basically, every adult male.
So. I was to get a female teacher. Hurrah.
Yesterday was Justin's first class. He liked the guy fine, everything was hunky-dory. My class was this morning.
Okay. Now, the thing is, I'm a fairly nervous person about doing something alone for the first time. Especially in China. I like to know exactly where I'm going, have a back-up plan in case something goes amiss, and generally carry just about everything you could ever need in my bag, just in case. I do not enjoy taking an early bus, changing buses, then going down to a bus stop I've never been to before and am not familiar with the landmarks thereof, to meet a person I don't know and have no way of identifying (how do you describe a Chinese person as to him pick out of a crowd?). But that's exactly what I had to do.
At first, it was fine. I only had to wait five minutes for the first bus, I changed buses easily enough (you'd think that would always be easy, but bus routes here have a tendency to randomly change without warning), and off I went. Justin had told me to look for a big red building across from a huge circular sculpture at a big intersection and to get off the bus at the next stop. His teacher had met him at that bus stop, and when Ryan and Rachel had first started class, their teacher met them at the hotel a block down the street. I also had the name of the bus stop, so there should have been no problem with disembarking correctly.
Ha. Should have been.
I got the first indication of trouble when I realized, two stops after getting on the bus, that the nice speaker-voice that announces stops was broken on this bus.
Great.
So, I anxiously watched for the big red building and the circle sculpture. I kept checking my watch, worried about being late for the first class.
Aha! Red building! Circle sculpture!
Just past the intersection, the bus stops. I jump off with two other people. I look around.
This isn't a bus stop. The bus had stopped, who knows why, in a random place with no signs or people. So I walked. I slowed down at the next bus stop, where I could see my bus's number. I checked around for my female teacher, but didn't see anyone in the crowd who looked like they were looking for me.
Ah, thought I, she must be waiting in front of the hotel. I'll keep going.
Nope. I waited in front of the hotel for what felt like ages. After a reasonable amount of time, I pulled out my phone.
*Sidebar -- my old phone here was a hand-me-down from the couple before us. Oddly enough, it's a Chinese phone that doesn't give me Chinese texting abilities without converting everything to Chinese. So, we found a super cheap deal on TaoBao, the Chinese version of Ebay. This phone had arrived the day before, and I was still learning the ins and outs. Okay, to continue.
Now, I'm in a part of the city I'm not familiar with, don't see anyone looking for me, have no contact information for the school, and am feeling progressively stupider and hotter as the sun rises and people stare. I pull out my phone to call Justin. He, at least, has their email address.
My phone is not working.
I send multiple text messages, increasing in urgency. No response.
I try to call Rachel, who is notorious about not having her phone on or within earshot. No answer. I scroll through my address book for Ryan's number, but somehow his information didn't copy over from my old phone.
I am frantic. Class should have begun five minutes ago.
Rachel, bless her, calls me back. Within a few minutes, she has called their teacher, who apparently is the one meeting me, and says he's at the bus stop but heading my way.
I thank her and wait. And wait. And wait. I'm standing in full view, way out front, keeping half an eye on the direction he should be coming from and half an eye on the strangers passing me. I don't see him.
After a solid ten minutes, I pull out my phone to call Rachel back and discover that I've received a message I hadn't heard. He's waiting for me up by the door.
I have no idea how he didn't see me out here.
I walk up, and there are several men standing around. After a few minutes, a Chinese man whose hair reminds me forcibly of a poodle asks if I am Shannon. As I am the only woman (and a foreign woman to boot) this should've been rather obvious.
I follow him to the school, which is down a couple of streets and a few turns, and go up to the apartment. My female Chinese teacher greets us. Silently. The teachers have a rapid Chinese discussion, in which they ask me a few questions in Chinese that I answer, then he leaves us and she smiles at me.
Nervously. She is obviously very, very nervous. The Chinese have a smile that they use for embarrassing situations. This was that smile.
Great, I think, I've got a newbie. I wonder how much experience she's had teaching foreigners.
By this point, by the way, I'm a half hour late for class, I'm parched and sweating, and we're sitting in a sunny room that has no air-conditioning, no fan, no breeze through an open window. I'm feeling sicker and sicker by the minute.
Class begins. At first, I think she's just testing out my Chinese level by speaking only in Chinese. This is good, I think to myself, she's going to stretch me, really make me work.
After a few minutes, though, I realize she doesn't speak any English. At all. This becomes increasingly apparent as class progresses, because every time I try to ask a question about grammar or usage in English or ask how to say an English word in Chinese, she gets that same embarrassed smile and tells me (in Chinese, of course) that she doesn't understand. By halfway through the class, she's drawing pictures and miming to get her points across. It's at this point I'm ready to puke from the lack of circulation and refreshment and ask for some water. I feel marginally better for having a small coffee mug of warm water.
By the end of class, I'm beyond frustrated. If I had upper-level language skills, it would be one thing, but we told the school that we were still beginners, really. The book we were using was not the same format as the series we'd been studying all semester, so the vocabulary and usage was different, my teacher couldn't understand a single English word I said when I couldn't express myself in Chinese, getting to the school had been a nightmare, and I was still feeling sick.
I've decided on getting one of our Chinese friends to tutor me instead of going back. Perhaps they have a better female teacher, but I've lost faith in their judgment and abilities, and frankly, it's a hefty fee to pay for someone who can't explain when and how to use the words she's teaching you.
Oh, I forgot -- she did know one English phrase. When I was leaving, she smiled big and said "It is very easy!"
Right.
But today was a blog-worthy day. Mostly this morning. Let me give you some background.
As you know, last winter we studied Chinese in another city (due to the ridiculous weather up here in the frigid north). This summer, to save on money, we decided to try staying here and trekking across the river (easily a full hour on a crowded, non-air-conditioned bus with people who have never heard of deoderant) to go to class. We weighed our options and decided to take classes separately with private tutors. We contacted the school that Ryan and Rachel have been attending, and got things all lined up. Justin was going to be studying with their teacher, and I was going to have someone different. I actually requested this, as their teacher is a man, and I'm absolutely not comfortable taking one-on-one classes with a man. Besides appearances (sketchy) it is said in China that every man between, oh, thirty and sixty is a pervert. Something like that. It's a wide age range -- basically, every adult male.
So. I was to get a female teacher. Hurrah.
Yesterday was Justin's first class. He liked the guy fine, everything was hunky-dory. My class was this morning.
Okay. Now, the thing is, I'm a fairly nervous person about doing something alone for the first time. Especially in China. I like to know exactly where I'm going, have a back-up plan in case something goes amiss, and generally carry just about everything you could ever need in my bag, just in case. I do not enjoy taking an early bus, changing buses, then going down to a bus stop I've never been to before and am not familiar with the landmarks thereof, to meet a person I don't know and have no way of identifying (how do you describe a Chinese person as to him pick out of a crowd?). But that's exactly what I had to do.
At first, it was fine. I only had to wait five minutes for the first bus, I changed buses easily enough (you'd think that would always be easy, but bus routes here have a tendency to randomly change without warning), and off I went. Justin had told me to look for a big red building across from a huge circular sculpture at a big intersection and to get off the bus at the next stop. His teacher had met him at that bus stop, and when Ryan and Rachel had first started class, their teacher met them at the hotel a block down the street. I also had the name of the bus stop, so there should have been no problem with disembarking correctly.
Ha. Should have been.
I got the first indication of trouble when I realized, two stops after getting on the bus, that the nice speaker-voice that announces stops was broken on this bus.
Great.
So, I anxiously watched for the big red building and the circle sculpture. I kept checking my watch, worried about being late for the first class.
Aha! Red building! Circle sculpture!
Just past the intersection, the bus stops. I jump off with two other people. I look around.
This isn't a bus stop. The bus had stopped, who knows why, in a random place with no signs or people. So I walked. I slowed down at the next bus stop, where I could see my bus's number. I checked around for my female teacher, but didn't see anyone in the crowd who looked like they were looking for me.
Ah, thought I, she must be waiting in front of the hotel. I'll keep going.
Nope. I waited in front of the hotel for what felt like ages. After a reasonable amount of time, I pulled out my phone.
*Sidebar -- my old phone here was a hand-me-down from the couple before us. Oddly enough, it's a Chinese phone that doesn't give me Chinese texting abilities without converting everything to Chinese. So, we found a super cheap deal on TaoBao, the Chinese version of Ebay. This phone had arrived the day before, and I was still learning the ins and outs. Okay, to continue.
Now, I'm in a part of the city I'm not familiar with, don't see anyone looking for me, have no contact information for the school, and am feeling progressively stupider and hotter as the sun rises and people stare. I pull out my phone to call Justin. He, at least, has their email address.
My phone is not working.
I send multiple text messages, increasing in urgency. No response.
I try to call Rachel, who is notorious about not having her phone on or within earshot. No answer. I scroll through my address book for Ryan's number, but somehow his information didn't copy over from my old phone.
I am frantic. Class should have begun five minutes ago.
Rachel, bless her, calls me back. Within a few minutes, she has called their teacher, who apparently is the one meeting me, and says he's at the bus stop but heading my way.
I thank her and wait. And wait. And wait. I'm standing in full view, way out front, keeping half an eye on the direction he should be coming from and half an eye on the strangers passing me. I don't see him.
After a solid ten minutes, I pull out my phone to call Rachel back and discover that I've received a message I hadn't heard. He's waiting for me up by the door.
I have no idea how he didn't see me out here.
I walk up, and there are several men standing around. After a few minutes, a Chinese man whose hair reminds me forcibly of a poodle asks if I am Shannon. As I am the only woman (and a foreign woman to boot) this should've been rather obvious.
I follow him to the school, which is down a couple of streets and a few turns, and go up to the apartment. My female Chinese teacher greets us. Silently. The teachers have a rapid Chinese discussion, in which they ask me a few questions in Chinese that I answer, then he leaves us and she smiles at me.
Nervously. She is obviously very, very nervous. The Chinese have a smile that they use for embarrassing situations. This was that smile.
Great, I think, I've got a newbie. I wonder how much experience she's had teaching foreigners.
By this point, by the way, I'm a half hour late for class, I'm parched and sweating, and we're sitting in a sunny room that has no air-conditioning, no fan, no breeze through an open window. I'm feeling sicker and sicker by the minute.
Class begins. At first, I think she's just testing out my Chinese level by speaking only in Chinese. This is good, I think to myself, she's going to stretch me, really make me work.
After a few minutes, though, I realize she doesn't speak any English. At all. This becomes increasingly apparent as class progresses, because every time I try to ask a question about grammar or usage in English or ask how to say an English word in Chinese, she gets that same embarrassed smile and tells me (in Chinese, of course) that she doesn't understand. By halfway through the class, she's drawing pictures and miming to get her points across. It's at this point I'm ready to puke from the lack of circulation and refreshment and ask for some water. I feel marginally better for having a small coffee mug of warm water.
By the end of class, I'm beyond frustrated. If I had upper-level language skills, it would be one thing, but we told the school that we were still beginners, really. The book we were using was not the same format as the series we'd been studying all semester, so the vocabulary and usage was different, my teacher couldn't understand a single English word I said when I couldn't express myself in Chinese, getting to the school had been a nightmare, and I was still feeling sick.
I've decided on getting one of our Chinese friends to tutor me instead of going back. Perhaps they have a better female teacher, but I've lost faith in their judgment and abilities, and frankly, it's a hefty fee to pay for someone who can't explain when and how to use the words she's teaching you.
Oh, I forgot -- she did know one English phrase. When I was leaving, she smiled big and said "It is very easy!"
Right.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Fasting
Winter Holiday: The Final Installment
I would love to say that we had lots of adventures in Vietnam, but it wasn't so. Aside from the projectile puking incident, the no-rooms-in-the-whole-city-where-are-we-gonna-sleep-tonight incident, and the mohawked Eastern European with the escape-artist cow, it was very relaxed. We spent two weeks on the beach. Connor played in the sand and water, made friends with some kids straight out of the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang beach scene, and followed several big dogs around, giggling his head off. We ate fresh seafood, had fresh fruit smoothies with every meal, and rode on a motorcycle, Vietnamese-style.
But mostly, we rested. After a solid month of cramming a ridiculously difficult language in our heads, we were more than ready to do absolutely nothing. So that's what we did.
And then we headed up to Beijing for Workshop. A couple of my favorite speakers were there (shout out to John King and Mark Hooper!) who never fail to make a point or two that twists my heart and makes me rethink something. Sigh. A painful process, but great benefits.
This year, the two things that I took away and mulled over were about time management and fasting.
Time: it's a simple concept, but one that makes me wince. If I say that I don't have enough time to do something spiritually important, what am I doing with my time that needs to take a backseat? Example: facebook. If I'm a religious facebook-checker but not a dedicated pray-er or meditate-er, my priorities are a tad screwed up. Nothing wrong with facebook, but it's a matter of what comes first -- and if something is higher up than my Lord on my list, that could get us into a whole idolatry discussion... I digress. The point is, ouch.
So, I'm giving up guitar. Been learning for the past year or so, but that's 30 minutes a day that could be better spent. It's sad. But necessary.
And then we talked about fasting. Traditionally, it's time spent without food, focusing on the Lord instead. However, you can broaden it -- taking something "good" (not bad, not evil, not wrong, something harmless) out of your life for a period of time and using that time to focus on Him. So, Justin and I talked about it and decided that we would spend one week a month TV-less. We have just completed our first week of TV fasting. It's been wonderful.
I'm not going to stand on a soapbox and tell you that TV is evil, the media is out to get you, and you should avoid all exposure to it. I will tell you, though, that a TV-free week has given us more time as a family than we'd thought. We had no idea how much that thing is turned on in the course of a day. We've spent much more family time together and listened to the Bible on CD instead of watching an episode of NCIS or Top Chef every day. Connor usually gets about 30 minutes of TV a day, which we figured was low compared to many children. He usually asks for a show mid-morning and is antsy until he gets it. After the first couple of days this week, he stopped asking. Instead, we got plied with book request after book request -- Llama Llama Red Pajama, Gordon and LiLi speak Mandarin, Thomas the Tank Engine, Dr Seuss, Sandra Boynton...the list is endless.
Needless to say, this week has challenged our lifestyle quite a bit and made us rethink a few things. I remember one time when I was maybe 11 or 12, my family did a month or so of no TV -- and it was great. We kids balked at it, sure that our lives would end, but there were more family games in the evenings, puzzles to put together (and heaven help you if you put in the last piece on a section someone else had been slaving over, you credit-hog!) and books to read.
I'm rambling now, a sure sign that it's time to end this post. I just wanted to share the benefits of our week of fasting -- we are closer to God and closer as a family. I highly recommend it, at least as an experiment. I betcha you'll like it.
Blessings!
I would love to say that we had lots of adventures in Vietnam, but it wasn't so. Aside from the projectile puking incident, the no-rooms-in-the-whole-city-where-are-we-gonna-sleep-tonight incident, and the mohawked Eastern European with the escape-artist cow, it was very relaxed. We spent two weeks on the beach. Connor played in the sand and water, made friends with some kids straight out of the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang beach scene, and followed several big dogs around, giggling his head off. We ate fresh seafood, had fresh fruit smoothies with every meal, and rode on a motorcycle, Vietnamese-style.
But mostly, we rested. After a solid month of cramming a ridiculously difficult language in our heads, we were more than ready to do absolutely nothing. So that's what we did.
And then we headed up to Beijing for Workshop. A couple of my favorite speakers were there (shout out to John King and Mark Hooper!) who never fail to make a point or two that twists my heart and makes me rethink something. Sigh. A painful process, but great benefits.
This year, the two things that I took away and mulled over were about time management and fasting.
Time: it's a simple concept, but one that makes me wince. If I say that I don't have enough time to do something spiritually important, what am I doing with my time that needs to take a backseat? Example: facebook. If I'm a religious facebook-checker but not a dedicated pray-er or meditate-er, my priorities are a tad screwed up. Nothing wrong with facebook, but it's a matter of what comes first -- and if something is higher up than my Lord on my list, that could get us into a whole idolatry discussion... I digress. The point is, ouch.
So, I'm giving up guitar. Been learning for the past year or so, but that's 30 minutes a day that could be better spent. It's sad. But necessary.
And then we talked about fasting. Traditionally, it's time spent without food, focusing on the Lord instead. However, you can broaden it -- taking something "good" (not bad, not evil, not wrong, something harmless) out of your life for a period of time and using that time to focus on Him. So, Justin and I talked about it and decided that we would spend one week a month TV-less. We have just completed our first week of TV fasting. It's been wonderful.
I'm not going to stand on a soapbox and tell you that TV is evil, the media is out to get you, and you should avoid all exposure to it. I will tell you, though, that a TV-free week has given us more time as a family than we'd thought. We had no idea how much that thing is turned on in the course of a day. We've spent much more family time together and listened to the Bible on CD instead of watching an episode of NCIS or Top Chef every day. Connor usually gets about 30 minutes of TV a day, which we figured was low compared to many children. He usually asks for a show mid-morning and is antsy until he gets it. After the first couple of days this week, he stopped asking. Instead, we got plied with book request after book request -- Llama Llama Red Pajama, Gordon and LiLi speak Mandarin, Thomas the Tank Engine, Dr Seuss, Sandra Boynton...the list is endless.
Needless to say, this week has challenged our lifestyle quite a bit and made us rethink a few things. I remember one time when I was maybe 11 or 12, my family did a month or so of no TV -- and it was great. We kids balked at it, sure that our lives would end, but there were more family games in the evenings, puzzles to put together (and heaven help you if you put in the last piece on a section someone else had been slaving over, you credit-hog!) and books to read.
I'm rambling now, a sure sign that it's time to end this post. I just wanted to share the benefits of our week of fasting -- we are closer to God and closer as a family. I highly recommend it, at least as an experiment. I betcha you'll like it.
Blessings!
Monday, February 28, 2011
Langzhong
Winter Holiday, Part 2.
When we arrived in Chengdu, we had all sorts of plans for weekend sightseeing around the city and the surrounding areas. There were a couple of mountains to climb, the biggest Buddha in the world to take a picture in front of, a gorgeous nature reserve, and of course, the pandas that Chengdu is famous for. Unfortunately, bad weather ruled out the mountains and the nature reserve, and Justin didn't want to get up so early for the pandas, and we all had fizzled brains from language study, so... one trip. One. And to a place that hadn't even made the possibilities list when we were planning grand adventures.
Langzhong. One of the few "old" cities in China that retains the feel of an ancient way of life. So, we went.
It took more effort than we'd thought.
In theory, it should've been a couple of local bus rides to the long-distance bus station, then a five-hour ride on that. No problem. We packed snacks, a lunch, some water, and plenty of activities for Connor, plus clothes and stuff for the weekend. It ended up being quite a bit to carry, but no big deal, we were going to be riding the bus for maybe 45 minutes then stowing most of it under the long-distance bus.
Uh-huh.
We got on the first bus, no problem (other than a 20 minute wait). I should probably remind you here about my lack of directional sense. Remember? Wade shares this quality with me. Perhaps not as severe, but he is not a guy who can figure his way around, map or no map. So Justin and Leah were in charge of watching for the correct stop to change buses.
Get the mental image here -- all of use with massive backpacks and one or two extra bags hanging on our arms (or toddlers hanging on our hips, as the case may be), smushed into a crowded bus (is there any other kind?), craning our necks at awkward angles to keep an eye out for the stops. The frosty windows didn't help matters, either.
So, I've just gotten a seat with Connor (yay!) and Justin hollers "this is our stop!" and we shove our way past irritated passengers and jump off the bus.
Wrong stop.
My apologizes to the hubbie, but the man did make a wrong call. He saw the sign for the street we needed, but we were a couple of blocks away from the correct end of the street.
So we walked. And walked. And walked.
Freezing cold, carrying Connor and bags of stuff we now were wishing we'd left behind, wondering how much further it was and if we should just take a taxi. But no, we're all frugal people (we try not to think of ourselves as cheap) and decide that we can walk a ways further.
We find the right bus to transfer onto and climb aboard. It is, without a doubt, the slowest bus in the world. Guess how long we ride that bloomin' thing?
2 hours. 2 hours of singing songs to keep Connor occupied. 2 hours of readjusting bags. 2 hours of checking pockets every time someone bumps into you (pickpockets are alive and well in China).
And when we get off at the stop a very kind Chinese woman tells us to, it's not the right one. We are at the train station, not the long-distance bus station.
Aiya.
So we backtrack and walk for about another hour or so, asking strangers how to get there every now and then and checking a map. Well, Justin and Leah checked the map. Wade and I just kept our mouths shut.
We finally get to the long-distance bus, and everything is smooth sailing from there (just arriving four hours later than expected is all) other than the fact that the public restroom doesn't have stalls and I got to pee while three Chinese girls watched avidly. Luckily, by this point I was too tired to care.
Langzhong was really lovely. People still lived and went about their business in this really quaint place -- not just a tourist trap. That's rare. Cobbled streets, narrow alleys, old-fashioned shingles, traditional Chinese dancers performing on the street corners, great food.
We stayed in the Feng Shui Museum (actual little hostel in the museum, which was super duper cool). Only downside was that the bathrooms were not actually inside, but exposed to the elements. If you had to pee in the middle of the night, you had to exit your room (once you leave your room, you have left the only source of heat in the place) and shiver through the outdoor courtyard, climb down a very narrow, steep staircase (Wade fell once. It hurt.) then try not to slip on the slick stone floor (drizzled constantly, and like I've mentioned, this is all exposed to the elements). Finally, if you can find the light switch, you can pee (squatty potties only). Don't forget that there's no hot water in the sinks (only the showers, and then a very limited amount), so you're washing your hands in freezing water before returning back the way you came. Note: this is weather that's damp-cold, now, so you're in at least three layers at all times.
But without a doubt, bathroom difficulties aside (I've just walked you through peeing, but I'll leave showering to your imagination), this is our favorite place to date. Lots of character and charm, and a really good deal to boot.
Langzhong is basically a shopping/walking place. We saw lots of cool stuff and had a great time unwinding after the week of studying. I'll add some pics down at the bottom for your perusal.
Oh, and when we traveled back to Chengdu -- we took a taxi home from the bus station. :-)
That's our room -- teeny tiny, which worked since the heater wouldn't have been able to keep a bigger room warm.
In one of the open-air areas of the museum/hostel.
Connor was there too (great restaurant, by the way) but he was playing with some Chinese kids, running around and around a table and laughing his head off.
This is our favorite Sichuan dish -- the potato thing I mentioned last time. Oh, it was good. Really good. Crave it whenever it pops into mind good.
When we arrived in Chengdu, we had all sorts of plans for weekend sightseeing around the city and the surrounding areas. There were a couple of mountains to climb, the biggest Buddha in the world to take a picture in front of, a gorgeous nature reserve, and of course, the pandas that Chengdu is famous for. Unfortunately, bad weather ruled out the mountains and the nature reserve, and Justin didn't want to get up so early for the pandas, and we all had fizzled brains from language study, so... one trip. One. And to a place that hadn't even made the possibilities list when we were planning grand adventures.
Langzhong. One of the few "old" cities in China that retains the feel of an ancient way of life. So, we went.
It took more effort than we'd thought.
In theory, it should've been a couple of local bus rides to the long-distance bus station, then a five-hour ride on that. No problem. We packed snacks, a lunch, some water, and plenty of activities for Connor, plus clothes and stuff for the weekend. It ended up being quite a bit to carry, but no big deal, we were going to be riding the bus for maybe 45 minutes then stowing most of it under the long-distance bus.
Uh-huh.
We got on the first bus, no problem (other than a 20 minute wait). I should probably remind you here about my lack of directional sense. Remember? Wade shares this quality with me. Perhaps not as severe, but he is not a guy who can figure his way around, map or no map. So Justin and Leah were in charge of watching for the correct stop to change buses.
Get the mental image here -- all of use with massive backpacks and one or two extra bags hanging on our arms (or toddlers hanging on our hips, as the case may be), smushed into a crowded bus (is there any other kind?), craning our necks at awkward angles to keep an eye out for the stops. The frosty windows didn't help matters, either.
So, I've just gotten a seat with Connor (yay!) and Justin hollers "this is our stop!" and we shove our way past irritated passengers and jump off the bus.
Wrong stop.
My apologizes to the hubbie, but the man did make a wrong call. He saw the sign for the street we needed, but we were a couple of blocks away from the correct end of the street.
So we walked. And walked. And walked.
Freezing cold, carrying Connor and bags of stuff we now were wishing we'd left behind, wondering how much further it was and if we should just take a taxi. But no, we're all frugal people (we try not to think of ourselves as cheap) and decide that we can walk a ways further.
We find the right bus to transfer onto and climb aboard. It is, without a doubt, the slowest bus in the world. Guess how long we ride that bloomin' thing?
2 hours. 2 hours of singing songs to keep Connor occupied. 2 hours of readjusting bags. 2 hours of checking pockets every time someone bumps into you (pickpockets are alive and well in China).
And when we get off at the stop a very kind Chinese woman tells us to, it's not the right one. We are at the train station, not the long-distance bus station.
Aiya.
So we backtrack and walk for about another hour or so, asking strangers how to get there every now and then and checking a map. Well, Justin and Leah checked the map. Wade and I just kept our mouths shut.
We finally get to the long-distance bus, and everything is smooth sailing from there (just arriving four hours later than expected is all) other than the fact that the public restroom doesn't have stalls and I got to pee while three Chinese girls watched avidly. Luckily, by this point I was too tired to care.
Langzhong was really lovely. People still lived and went about their business in this really quaint place -- not just a tourist trap. That's rare. Cobbled streets, narrow alleys, old-fashioned shingles, traditional Chinese dancers performing on the street corners, great food.
We stayed in the Feng Shui Museum (actual little hostel in the museum, which was super duper cool). Only downside was that the bathrooms were not actually inside, but exposed to the elements. If you had to pee in the middle of the night, you had to exit your room (once you leave your room, you have left the only source of heat in the place) and shiver through the outdoor courtyard, climb down a very narrow, steep staircase (Wade fell once. It hurt.) then try not to slip on the slick stone floor (drizzled constantly, and like I've mentioned, this is all exposed to the elements). Finally, if you can find the light switch, you can pee (squatty potties only). Don't forget that there's no hot water in the sinks (only the showers, and then a very limited amount), so you're washing your hands in freezing water before returning back the way you came. Note: this is weather that's damp-cold, now, so you're in at least three layers at all times.
But without a doubt, bathroom difficulties aside (I've just walked you through peeing, but I'll leave showering to your imagination), this is our favorite place to date. Lots of character and charm, and a really good deal to boot.
Langzhong is basically a shopping/walking place. We saw lots of cool stuff and had a great time unwinding after the week of studying. I'll add some pics down at the bottom for your perusal.
Oh, and when we traveled back to Chengdu -- we took a taxi home from the bus station. :-)
Friday, February 25, 2011
Chengdu
Okay, it's been about twenty years since I've blogged, and there's lots of stuff to tell you. But, because I hate reading one long endless post myself, I'm breaking this up into segments. You can thank me later.
The first part of our holiday (sidenote -- SO Chinese! They use British vocabulary for everything -- you should see their expressions when we tell them where our apartment is, they only know the word "flat" so they're completely lost -- anyway, they never say vacation or break. It's a holiday. "Did you have a nice holiday?" "What a lovely holiday!" So now, because we hear it so much, we use it, and end up feeling rather like a mix between uppity Brit and giggly schoolkids. Anyway.) was in Chengdu for language school. And yes, I realize that my parenthetical note was about a paragraph long and you just had to scroll up and see what in the world sentence I just finished.
Chengdu. Language school. One month. 50 hours. Painful, brain-squeezing, mind-twisting, language-cramming experience.
Loved it.
We shared any apartment with another couple for the month and knew that we'd come out on the other side really loving or really hating them. We love them. We wish they lived closer. We probably know more about Wade and Leah than we'd really like to, such as bathroom habits, odd quirks, and random phobias, but the whole situation went more smoothly than we could have hoped.
Problem with Chengdu -- it's cold. I know this sounds strange from a "Haerbinren" (Harbin person) but we have HEAT up here. Our apartments are warm, our classrooms are warm, the shops are warm. In central China, where Chengdu is, they have teeny little units on the walls in some rooms, not all, of the apartments, and none in school classrooms, restaurants, or shops. Most of the restaurants are even doorless, so you don't have the relief of being out of the elements. It's a damp cold too, so you never really feel dry. And get this -- we knew we were heading down to Vietnam, so we opted to just take our lightweight jackets instead of our heavy coats.
We froze. We wore many many layers. Our toes were sad and pitiful. I still can't believe, out of all the things I could have forgotten to pack, I forgot the socks I'd knitted for us for this very trip. Sigh.
This is why, we think, that province is known for its spicy food. Heat. Seriously, we went out to a few Chinese restaurants when we girls needed a cooking break, and a solid third of each dish was the hot peppers. Your lips burn like crazy, but it tastes so good. The best one was a potato dish where they slice up the potatoes super super tiny, smaller than toothpicks, and fry 'em up with peppers (of course) and a little vinegar. AMAZING. Worth the trip back down just to eat them again.
So, we love Wade and Leah, we love the food, we hate the weather, the classes were great and we learned a ton. Best story from Chengdu, though, is the bike-riding.
Okay. Our first week of classes, we took the bus to school, but it took about 45 minutes and we were super short on time. So, the second week, we started using the bikes from the apartment we were renting.
All of us almost died at some point.
I'm going to try and set the scene for biking in a big Chinese city. Take an intersection with about three lanes going in each direction. Put lights in that intersection that really aren't thought highly of and are seen as more of suggestions than rules. Add a few traffic cops who stand on little pedestals (seriously) and wave their hands around, trying not to get hit. Then bring in the taxis. And buses. And cars. And three-wheeled trike wagon things, loaded with boxes, bags, animals, people. Then bring in motorcycles, scooters, bikes. Then pedestrians. Dogs. Kids. Now, important to remember here -- no one pays attention to the rules. You go when you see an opportunity. Period. Now, the noise -- horns honking, buses blaring, dogs barking, people yelling, bike bells brrriiinnging, traffic cops blowing on their piercing whistles. You can't hear yourself think.
Now bike across that intersection without hitting anybody or getting hit yourself.
You see my point.
Once you get across the intersection and are lucky enough to have a bike lane, you may think you're set -- but no, you are not. Normally, you'd just have bike traffic (which is substantial) plus motorcycles and scooters. Then, if the sidewalk is crowded, pedestrians jump on over into the bike lane. (Can't blame 'em much, the bikers do the same to them.) Then the trike-wagons jump in sometimes, taking up the whole lane. Cars are prone to avoiding traffic by crossing that little white line, too.
So, you see, the bike lane is not all it's cracked up to be.
Then you've got little streets spilling into the main roads with no warning whatsoever, so you've got to stay on your toes. Cars backing out of their parking spaces -- on the sidewalk -- into the bike lane. Other bikers thinking you're too slow and whizzing around you with maybe two inches to spare.
The first day, I was terrified. I knew this was my death. No way was I going to survive.
Let me think. Justin got hit by a motorcycle (not hard, it was backing up). Leah got hit by a car (just her back wheel, she's fine). Wade slammed on his brakes to avoid a kid and got hit by me (this was his fault, not mine, and I'm sticking to that). I hit two cars, a pole, and somebody's foot.
Don't judge me.
But here's the thing -- we all loved it by the time we left. We were no longer being whizzed by, we were doing the whizzing. And, there's something super fun about ringing a bike bell. It brought back lots of great childhood memories, even with freezing rain pelting our faces, and when you add in the adrenaline rush of maybe dying any second, it was super fun.
We've decided that if we ever live in the heart of a city like that, we're buying bikes, despite the risks. It's quick, it's fun, and once you learn to think like a Chinese driver, it's not so difficult.
Okay, so that's Chengdu. I'll get the next "holiday happenings" post up soon.
The first part of our holiday (sidenote -- SO Chinese! They use British vocabulary for everything -- you should see their expressions when we tell them where our apartment is, they only know the word "flat" so they're completely lost -- anyway, they never say vacation or break. It's a holiday. "Did you have a nice holiday?" "What a lovely holiday!" So now, because we hear it so much, we use it, and end up feeling rather like a mix between uppity Brit and giggly schoolkids. Anyway.) was in Chengdu for language school. And yes, I realize that my parenthetical note was about a paragraph long and you just had to scroll up and see what in the world sentence I just finished.
Chengdu. Language school. One month. 50 hours. Painful, brain-squeezing, mind-twisting, language-cramming experience.
Loved it.
We shared any apartment with another couple for the month and knew that we'd come out on the other side really loving or really hating them. We love them. We wish they lived closer. We probably know more about Wade and Leah than we'd really like to, such as bathroom habits, odd quirks, and random phobias, but the whole situation went more smoothly than we could have hoped.
Problem with Chengdu -- it's cold. I know this sounds strange from a "Haerbinren" (Harbin person) but we have HEAT up here. Our apartments are warm, our classrooms are warm, the shops are warm. In central China, where Chengdu is, they have teeny little units on the walls in some rooms, not all, of the apartments, and none in school classrooms, restaurants, or shops. Most of the restaurants are even doorless, so you don't have the relief of being out of the elements. It's a damp cold too, so you never really feel dry. And get this -- we knew we were heading down to Vietnam, so we opted to just take our lightweight jackets instead of our heavy coats.
We froze. We wore many many layers. Our toes were sad and pitiful. I still can't believe, out of all the things I could have forgotten to pack, I forgot the socks I'd knitted for us for this very trip. Sigh.
This is why, we think, that province is known for its spicy food. Heat. Seriously, we went out to a few Chinese restaurants when we girls needed a cooking break, and a solid third of each dish was the hot peppers. Your lips burn like crazy, but it tastes so good. The best one was a potato dish where they slice up the potatoes super super tiny, smaller than toothpicks, and fry 'em up with peppers (of course) and a little vinegar. AMAZING. Worth the trip back down just to eat them again.
So, we love Wade and Leah, we love the food, we hate the weather, the classes were great and we learned a ton. Best story from Chengdu, though, is the bike-riding.
Okay. Our first week of classes, we took the bus to school, but it took about 45 minutes and we were super short on time. So, the second week, we started using the bikes from the apartment we were renting.
All of us almost died at some point.
I'm going to try and set the scene for biking in a big Chinese city. Take an intersection with about three lanes going in each direction. Put lights in that intersection that really aren't thought highly of and are seen as more of suggestions than rules. Add a few traffic cops who stand on little pedestals (seriously) and wave their hands around, trying not to get hit. Then bring in the taxis. And buses. And cars. And three-wheeled trike wagon things, loaded with boxes, bags, animals, people. Then bring in motorcycles, scooters, bikes. Then pedestrians. Dogs. Kids. Now, important to remember here -- no one pays attention to the rules. You go when you see an opportunity. Period. Now, the noise -- horns honking, buses blaring, dogs barking, people yelling, bike bells brrriiinnging, traffic cops blowing on their piercing whistles. You can't hear yourself think.
Now bike across that intersection without hitting anybody or getting hit yourself.
You see my point.
Once you get across the intersection and are lucky enough to have a bike lane, you may think you're set -- but no, you are not. Normally, you'd just have bike traffic (which is substantial) plus motorcycles and scooters. Then, if the sidewalk is crowded, pedestrians jump on over into the bike lane. (Can't blame 'em much, the bikers do the same to them.) Then the trike-wagons jump in sometimes, taking up the whole lane. Cars are prone to avoiding traffic by crossing that little white line, too.
So, you see, the bike lane is not all it's cracked up to be.
Then you've got little streets spilling into the main roads with no warning whatsoever, so you've got to stay on your toes. Cars backing out of their parking spaces -- on the sidewalk -- into the bike lane. Other bikers thinking you're too slow and whizzing around you with maybe two inches to spare.
The first day, I was terrified. I knew this was my death. No way was I going to survive.
Let me think. Justin got hit by a motorcycle (not hard, it was backing up). Leah got hit by a car (just her back wheel, she's fine). Wade slammed on his brakes to avoid a kid and got hit by me (this was his fault, not mine, and I'm sticking to that). I hit two cars, a pole, and somebody's foot.
Don't judge me.
But here's the thing -- we all loved it by the time we left. We were no longer being whizzed by, we were doing the whizzing. And, there's something super fun about ringing a bike bell. It brought back lots of great childhood memories, even with freezing rain pelting our faces, and when you add in the adrenaline rush of maybe dying any second, it was super fun.
We've decided that if we ever live in the heart of a city like that, we're buying bikes, despite the risks. It's quick, it's fun, and once you learn to think like a Chinese driver, it's not so difficult.
Okay, so that's Chengdu. I'll get the next "holiday happenings" post up soon.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Latest in the Top Five Embarrassing Moments Category...
I think this just might be one of the most embarrassing experiences to date. One of those "oh help oh mercy oh no what do I say what do I do how can I make this better oh no there isn't any way to make this better so what's the quickest escape route" moments.
Today was my final "teaching" class for my non-English majors. The numbers in these classes have dwindled over the past couple of weeks, due to students focusing on preparing for their final exams in their major classes and leaving mine. I combined all my classes together for a final double session this morning, to be followed by their final exam tomorrow afternoon. Much more convenient all around.
So, let me tell you about one of my best students. Lesley.
Right away, the name should have tipped me off. This is clearly a male student -- baggy clothes, short boy haircut, black tennis shoes, sideburns -- but the name is not the most macho ever. He has a bit of a baby face and a slightly higher voice than most of the boys in my classes, and he's a little chubby, so you'd think he'd want to beef up his name. Still, this is China. I have boy students named anything from "Killer" and 'Oh Yeah" to "Summer" and "Rain," so I took it in stride. Boy named Lesley. Not common in America, but not unusual either. Plus, the kid's a really great student. The only one out of all my non-major classes to get an A on his speech, consistently the highest grades on quizzes, always does his homework. He's the kid that I look to when I'm teaching to check if he understands. If he gets it, I move on or have him explain in Chinese. If not, I try different phrasing. I have a couple of these students in each class who act as my gauge on understanding.
Anyway. I digress.
Because Lesley is such a good student, I'm not surprised to see him in class today (on a Saturday). Pretty much only my good students show up -- Lesley, Carmen, Sky, Dennis, Job, Endy -- and some others who really do seem to care about class but don't have a prayer of passing because they just don't do the work. Today's topic was all about the body -- feeling sick, injuries, body parts, body movements. This is one of my stellar lessons that the kids really get into. I mean, what students with the maturity level of 13-year-olds don't love to talk about puke, learn words like "rear end" and watch their teacher demonstrate body movements like crawling and jumping? Exactly. Plus, I had cookies left over from our Christmas party last night, so correct answers earned you a cookie. Tried to make class on a Saturday morning as appealing as possible.
Okay, so one other thing that I do with this lesson, regarding injuries, is talk about self-defense. They LOVE this. I took a self-defense class in college and really enjoyed it, and it's fun to pass along the info. Plus, there's the Miss Congeniality wisdom: Solar plexus, Instep, Nose, Groin. SING. I pick on a few different boys to demonstrate (I don't really hit them, never fear) and the class always goes nuts for it. Today I picked on Carmen (he's a weird kid, turns out he knows kung fu, I probably shouldn't have asked him to "attack" me, he almost won) and Lesley. Everything went super well...
...until the break.
At which point, Sky (who is a Brother now! Praises!) comes up to my desk and asks me, "That student (points to Lesley), do you think it is a boy or girl?"
I. Have. No. Words.
I think maybe this is some kind of trick, so he has a baby face and a girlish name, doesn't mean anything -- I have to say something, they're both looking at me --
"A boy," I say, and look down at my papers, pretending to be busy.
"No. It's a girl," says Sky.
I. Want. To. Die.
And, of course, Lesley comes up to the desk, looking all wounded and embarrassed.
I say the only thing that pops into my head. "Oh. Well, Lesley is an English boy's name, so I just thought..."
Okay, it's more commonly a girl's name, but I've already given this kid an identity complex for life now. I'm not about to say "You just look like such a boy!"
Aiya.
Lesley says that he (I just can't think "she!") looked up the name on the internet and it's a girl's name, and I mumble something about it being a boy's name too. I stare at the paper and try to pretend like I'm not contemplating how long it would take me to fashion my shoelaces into a noose.
I sneak looks at Lesley through the next class period, and I still don't see it! I mean, that is a boy! Walks like a boy, dresses like a boy, hair like a boy, talks like a boy, BOY! I can't meet his eyes, and I feel terrible for hauling a girl up to the front of the room to pretend to attack me so that I can demonstrate self-defense. Oh help. And then, while I'm feeling just awful, I still wish I had my camera with me so I could snap Lesley's picture and show you all and say "See! That has to be a boy!" which makes me a really horrible person on top of a really big idiot. And how would I ask for a picture? "Excuse me, I just want to show my friends how mannish you are for a girl." Ugh.
You know, I've always been afraid that, teaching in China, I would confuse one student with another. Truth be told, I can't tell most of my students apart when they're out of the classroom or buy a new shirt. Seriously.
But I really never thought I'd get the gender wrong.
Still, Lesley has a great future. Think how great he/she would be as an undercover agent.
Today was my final "teaching" class for my non-English majors. The numbers in these classes have dwindled over the past couple of weeks, due to students focusing on preparing for their final exams in their major classes and leaving mine. I combined all my classes together for a final double session this morning, to be followed by their final exam tomorrow afternoon. Much more convenient all around.
So, let me tell you about one of my best students. Lesley.
Right away, the name should have tipped me off. This is clearly a male student -- baggy clothes, short boy haircut, black tennis shoes, sideburns -- but the name is not the most macho ever. He has a bit of a baby face and a slightly higher voice than most of the boys in my classes, and he's a little chubby, so you'd think he'd want to beef up his name. Still, this is China. I have boy students named anything from "Killer" and 'Oh Yeah" to "Summer" and "Rain," so I took it in stride. Boy named Lesley. Not common in America, but not unusual either. Plus, the kid's a really great student. The only one out of all my non-major classes to get an A on his speech, consistently the highest grades on quizzes, always does his homework. He's the kid that I look to when I'm teaching to check if he understands. If he gets it, I move on or have him explain in Chinese. If not, I try different phrasing. I have a couple of these students in each class who act as my gauge on understanding.
Anyway. I digress.
Because Lesley is such a good student, I'm not surprised to see him in class today (on a Saturday). Pretty much only my good students show up -- Lesley, Carmen, Sky, Dennis, Job, Endy -- and some others who really do seem to care about class but don't have a prayer of passing because they just don't do the work. Today's topic was all about the body -- feeling sick, injuries, body parts, body movements. This is one of my stellar lessons that the kids really get into. I mean, what students with the maturity level of 13-year-olds don't love to talk about puke, learn words like "rear end" and watch their teacher demonstrate body movements like crawling and jumping? Exactly. Plus, I had cookies left over from our Christmas party last night, so correct answers earned you a cookie. Tried to make class on a Saturday morning as appealing as possible.
Okay, so one other thing that I do with this lesson, regarding injuries, is talk about self-defense. They LOVE this. I took a self-defense class in college and really enjoyed it, and it's fun to pass along the info. Plus, there's the Miss Congeniality wisdom: Solar plexus, Instep, Nose, Groin. SING. I pick on a few different boys to demonstrate (I don't really hit them, never fear) and the class always goes nuts for it. Today I picked on Carmen (he's a weird kid, turns out he knows kung fu, I probably shouldn't have asked him to "attack" me, he almost won) and Lesley. Everything went super well...
...until the break.
At which point, Sky (who is a Brother now! Praises!) comes up to my desk and asks me, "That student (points to Lesley), do you think it is a boy or girl?"
I. Have. No. Words.
I think maybe this is some kind of trick, so he has a baby face and a girlish name, doesn't mean anything -- I have to say something, they're both looking at me --
"A boy," I say, and look down at my papers, pretending to be busy.
"No. It's a girl," says Sky.
I. Want. To. Die.
And, of course, Lesley comes up to the desk, looking all wounded and embarrassed.
I say the only thing that pops into my head. "Oh. Well, Lesley is an English boy's name, so I just thought..."
Okay, it's more commonly a girl's name, but I've already given this kid an identity complex for life now. I'm not about to say "You just look like such a boy!"
Aiya.
Lesley says that he (I just can't think "she!") looked up the name on the internet and it's a girl's name, and I mumble something about it being a boy's name too. I stare at the paper and try to pretend like I'm not contemplating how long it would take me to fashion my shoelaces into a noose.
I sneak looks at Lesley through the next class period, and I still don't see it! I mean, that is a boy! Walks like a boy, dresses like a boy, hair like a boy, talks like a boy, BOY! I can't meet his eyes, and I feel terrible for hauling a girl up to the front of the room to pretend to attack me so that I can demonstrate self-defense. Oh help. And then, while I'm feeling just awful, I still wish I had my camera with me so I could snap Lesley's picture and show you all and say "See! That has to be a boy!" which makes me a really horrible person on top of a really big idiot. And how would I ask for a picture? "Excuse me, I just want to show my friends how mannish you are for a girl." Ugh.
You know, I've always been afraid that, teaching in China, I would confuse one student with another. Truth be told, I can't tell most of my students apart when they're out of the classroom or buy a new shirt. Seriously.
But I really never thought I'd get the gender wrong.
Still, Lesley has a great future. Think how great he/she would be as an undercover agent.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
The Upside
It's officially cold. Really cold. Bitterly cold, getting close to obscenely cold. It's miserable to go outside, it's horrendous to walk further than next door, and it's torture to go across the river and do any serious shopping.
So, in the spirit of the season, I decided to be optimistic. There HAS to be an upside to this weather. Here's my list:
1. Problem -- you have to bundle up to go outside, even if it's only for a few seconds.
Good thing -- you can wear anything you want under your coat. Seriously. I got home from class yesterday and changed clothes to cook dinner. Then I discovered that we were out of eggs and I had to go back out to get some from the veggie shop. Grr. I actually went into our bedroom to grab a different shirt to put on because my shirt had a bleach spot on it -- and then I realized. NO ONE CAN SEE IT. All that's visible are shoes, jeans, coat, scarf, mittens, hat, face. That's it. Woot! I could wear a pajama shirt, or a ratty old sweatshirt, or the sweater with soy sauce dripped on it and no one will know! This excites me beyond measure. In fact, if I wear earrings and don't tie the ear flaps on my hat down, people will think I'm really dressy under all the layers. Ha! I'm currently concocting the most ridiculous outfit I can think of, just to wear under the coat. It's great fun.
2. Problem -- the wind bites. Bites. Really viciously bites.
Good thing -- you don't need makeup. Seriously. Why would you need blush when your cheeks get all red and rosy from the wind? And your eyes water, too, which makes them all teary-bright and luminescent, so why bother with mascara? Instant beauty. I choose to believe this. Plus, the wind blows the coal dust away, so the air is cleaner. Wind is good for your health and beauty. Truth.
3. Problem -- the ice. You fall. A lot.
Good thing -- you get a daily opportunity to improve your balance. Every time you step outside, you either become more graceful or fall flat on your rear. You also develop this great shuffle-slide-step that I think would be killer in line-dancing. So there's a future opportunity for fame as a dance-creator person. Oh, the joys of winter.
4. Problem -- tracking snow into your house. Every time anyone enters, they have to change their shoes for house shoes, or you have wet footprints all over the floor.
Good thing -- Chinese are usually pretty good about this. But when they do forget, or the pile of snow melting off the shoes by the front door (inevitable, even when you place mats and towels up there, it's never enough) gets tracked in anyway, you have incentive to mop. Perpetually clean floors mean that when the students spontaneously show up, you don't have to rush around cleaning stuff before letting them in. It's all clean. You are always boy-scout-prepared.
Okay, that's my list. I tried to think of a fifth one, just to feel well-rounded, but -- oh, wait! Got it.
5. Problem -- you are always cold. Always, always cold.
Good thing -- you get to drink lots of yummy hot drinks without feeling overheated. Hot tea, hot cider, hot chocolate, coffee, spice tea...ahhh. This makes you feel very Chinese not to be drinking cold things and bridges the culture gap. I think. Sort of. Anyway, it tastes good.
Okay, so now that's my list. I'm throwing in a couple of pictures at the bottom, for grandparents and other interested parties.
Oh, and remember how last year in our old apartment we had ice growing on the inside of our windows, a few inches thick? We thought this apartment would have better heat, but no. We have ice in our bedroom. And, as an added bonus, around our front door. We have to chip it off on a regular basis, or we can't open the door. Here's a picture.
It's worse than that now. Down at the bottom, Justin chipped of at least an inch and a half this morning.
We decorated for Christmas. Connor is very excited about the Christmas tree. We also put Christmas decals on the windows and took some glue and glitter to glass jelly jars and decorated them to put candles in. He loved the glitter too.
Those last three shots -- we cooked up a Chinese-style meal of chicken, pumpkin, and peanuts and got out our chopsticks. Connor stole them. And apparently he's been paying attention, because he knew the general mechanics of using them.
So, in the spirit of the season, I decided to be optimistic. There HAS to be an upside to this weather. Here's my list:
1. Problem -- you have to bundle up to go outside, even if it's only for a few seconds.
Good thing -- you can wear anything you want under your coat. Seriously. I got home from class yesterday and changed clothes to cook dinner. Then I discovered that we were out of eggs and I had to go back out to get some from the veggie shop. Grr. I actually went into our bedroom to grab a different shirt to put on because my shirt had a bleach spot on it -- and then I realized. NO ONE CAN SEE IT. All that's visible are shoes, jeans, coat, scarf, mittens, hat, face. That's it. Woot! I could wear a pajama shirt, or a ratty old sweatshirt, or the sweater with soy sauce dripped on it and no one will know! This excites me beyond measure. In fact, if I wear earrings and don't tie the ear flaps on my hat down, people will think I'm really dressy under all the layers. Ha! I'm currently concocting the most ridiculous outfit I can think of, just to wear under the coat. It's great fun.
2. Problem -- the wind bites. Bites. Really viciously bites.
Good thing -- you don't need makeup. Seriously. Why would you need blush when your cheeks get all red and rosy from the wind? And your eyes water, too, which makes them all teary-bright and luminescent, so why bother with mascara? Instant beauty. I choose to believe this. Plus, the wind blows the coal dust away, so the air is cleaner. Wind is good for your health and beauty. Truth.
3. Problem -- the ice. You fall. A lot.
Good thing -- you get a daily opportunity to improve your balance. Every time you step outside, you either become more graceful or fall flat on your rear. You also develop this great shuffle-slide-step that I think would be killer in line-dancing. So there's a future opportunity for fame as a dance-creator person. Oh, the joys of winter.
4. Problem -- tracking snow into your house. Every time anyone enters, they have to change their shoes for house shoes, or you have wet footprints all over the floor.
Good thing -- Chinese are usually pretty good about this. But when they do forget, or the pile of snow melting off the shoes by the front door (inevitable, even when you place mats and towels up there, it's never enough) gets tracked in anyway, you have incentive to mop. Perpetually clean floors mean that when the students spontaneously show up, you don't have to rush around cleaning stuff before letting them in. It's all clean. You are always boy-scout-prepared.
Okay, that's my list. I tried to think of a fifth one, just to feel well-rounded, but -- oh, wait! Got it.
5. Problem -- you are always cold. Always, always cold.
Good thing -- you get to drink lots of yummy hot drinks without feeling overheated. Hot tea, hot cider, hot chocolate, coffee, spice tea...ahhh. This makes you feel very Chinese not to be drinking cold things and bridges the culture gap. I think. Sort of. Anyway, it tastes good.
Okay, so now that's my list. I'm throwing in a couple of pictures at the bottom, for grandparents and other interested parties.
Oh, and remember how last year in our old apartment we had ice growing on the inside of our windows, a few inches thick? We thought this apartment would have better heat, but no. We have ice in our bedroom. And, as an added bonus, around our front door. We have to chip it off on a regular basis, or we can't open the door. Here's a picture.
We decorated for Christmas. Connor is very excited about the Christmas tree. We also put Christmas decals on the windows and took some glue and glitter to glass jelly jars and decorated them to put candles in. He loved the glitter too.
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