forbidden photo

When it was our turn to fill up I was told I had to get out. Thank goodness I had just learned how to say, “Get off the bus” which is pretty similar to “Get out of the taxi”. Since the bonnet was up and there was nothing else to do, I pulled out my camera to shoot a photo of the driver and the activity. As I shot it, the attendant animatedly indicated, no photos allowed. Feeling guilt indeed, I set about deleting the photo but of course I couldn’t figure out how on this particular camera. Having found the word “erase” I tried repeatedly but of course all I got was more menus, etc. So there remained the photo for ever stored on the smart card. It didn’t take long and we were on our way to University Town. What made me rather jumpy during the drive was that the driver kept indicating to me or asking, depending upon your interpretation, if we were going the right way. So in one sense he could have been trying to reassure me that in fact he was taking the right expressway and the right exit or he honestly didn’t know. In any case, once we entered familiar territory I had no trouble directing him, an actual achievement for me. Along the way he stopped to ask various people along the side of the road if they needed a ride, one looked very much like a “lady of the night”, all legs and hot pants. No, she didn’t need his assistance. Another was a man next to what looked like a stalled vehicle and no, he didn’t need a taxi. It wasn’t clear if the cabbie was being a good Samaritan in a very lonely area or looking for a fare.
Arriving at my home, the meter read 80 kuai. He held up a one hundred kuai note and told me I owed him one hundred kuai. I was stunned. I am so bad with numbers. When we had left the gas station it had read 20 kuai. First, I had no idea how much change he had given me from the initial transaction. Second, it seemed like I was being truly ripped-off. I have been delivered home by taxi on numerous occasions and it had never exceeded 80 kuai. But then again, perhaps it had been really far. I had no more 100 kuai notes and I was counting out small bills by then. He had raised his voice considerably by then. I handed him 80 but it was obvious that was not going to do the trick. He pointed at an official-looking notice attached to the glove box. Only God knows what it said, perhaps there is a fuel surcharge or big old foreign ladies owe extra. By then I felt rather intimidated and quickly gathered the 100 kuai in small bills together, handed them over and fled the car. One factor complicating all of this was that when addled, I lose the ability to count or to think logically, especially about numbers.
I knew I would have to calm myself before collapsing in bed that night. One way to do that was to take a pencil and paper and divide 100 by 7. Knowing that I had paid $15 to get home from the Halloween Party wasn’t so bad actually. I had carved a Jack-O’Lantern out of a melon and stuck in a small piece of candle for the four-year-old who had never before heard of such a holiday. That alone had been worth it. Someone had painted a cat’s face on her and given her cats’ ears. Even some of the grown-ups went wild with the costumes. Two characters from “Pulp Fiction” showed up and Frieda Kahlo came in her “dia de los muertos” outfit. We were treated to real pumpkin and apple pie. Aside from the horse milk spirits it was pretty traditional, tame stuff.

Looking once again for a missing tai chi session, I snapped on my helmet and set off by bike for the “square of the factory”, the new location as described in the lovingly prepared note the tai chi classmates had handed me the day before.  The note, this time in English, explained that due to the change of the seasons and the early morning fog, the time would be changed from 6:30 to 8am as well.  This was to be a daring venture indeed.  It would entail crossing the road which runs past the South Gate of the campus and entering the “old” part of chen jia qiao, the nearby town.  You could not hold me back due to my newly found bicycle freedom.  With fan and collapsible sword in tow I had high expectations that before long I would find this phantom factory with a square in front.  It was a delight wheeling through the neighborhood, passing a few dogs, folks on their way to market, a couple of hens and men hard at work in a machine shop.  The grayness of the buildings was occasionally interrupted by a colorful doorway with cigarettes or snacks for sale.  Numerous factories lined the route, some obviously inactive but at least one with a guard at the gate.  Interestingly I came upon a large field and another tai chi group, mostly men with swords.  But I never did find my ladies. 

Plan B, firmly in mind, I headed for the new and improved part of town on the other side of the river where a large public square is laid out by a large tent-like performance shell.  I settled into my relaxed Sunday mode and before long I had company.  A young father and his baby girl approached and my first language lesson of the day began.  It was wonderful.  He had all sorts of questions but my comprehension was not full-on.  At one point it was clear he wanted to know how much I earn here.  That was simple to answer since I am a volunteer and these are words I have been practicing even though they are not perfectly formed.  This man was a kind interpreter and was happy with just about whatever I said.  There were all the other typical questions which we finally deciphered:  Do I have a husband?  Do my sons have wives? etc.  I happened to have a Chinese textbook with me and we could look up a few words in the glossary.  The baby’s mother soon returned with breakfast:  a couple of steamed buns.  Everyone was sharing.  How warm it felt to finally be trusted by the toddler who decided it was okay to repeatedly share her toy with me.  It was fun to watch two male toddlers chasing a ping pong ball with great gusto while the little girl held back.  Is such gender-specific stereotypical behavior inherent or nurtured?  One can only wonder.  Three lovely active older women packed up their equipment and walked my way.  I could see that they just had to meet me before leaving the public space.  They were exercising with a sort of paddle spanned with  a resilient material and weighted balls which didn’t bounce, a bit like koosh balls, but not.  You could see they were having lots of fun and getting a lot of wrist action as well.  I was thinking that with this sort of activity, one might not need to take glucosamine tablets for ones arthritic joints and it would be so much more fun!  I immediately showed them my sword and fan and asked where tai chi was to be found.  They said to come at 19:00 and the square would be a happening place.  I may or may not choose to ride my bike in the dark to this place, but at least I know I can find it. 

Victoria

Here it was all about communication and there was no one correcting my tones or making me repeat the initials and finals of Putonghua one more time.  I will definitely go back to this place, to restore my soul and to practice communicating with the locals.  So what if it is dialect!  In town for the first time on my bike, I had a lot of roads and routes discover.  I finally arrived at my destination after peddling through new territory.  My next language lesson began when the person sitting to my right opened a Bible with characters, pinyin and Korean in it.  She insisted that I follow the pinyin but of course I didn’t know 99 percent of the vocabulary and therefore it was somewhat of an uphill battle.  Since I couldn’t follow what the speaker was saying, I decided to write down in pinyin all the Mandarin words which came to my head.  I was rather concerned about whether I had let too many words fall into disuse since having studied them formally during the classes I had taken.  Just yesterday I was asked in a survey how many Chinese characters I know.  Well, that is a hard one to answer since recognition and the ability to write a word are two very different skill sets.  So I was satisfying myself that I did in fact know quite a few pinyin. 

A few hours later a third Chinese lesson fell into place, totally unplanned just like the first two today.  Victoria and Grace, two third year students, attempting to pass the Cambridge Business Exam under my tutelage, stepped up to the plate and began teaching me.  They reviewed with me a large handful of character flashcards and before I knew it my confidence was back.  Their sympathetic ears accepted even my less-than-perfect attempts and the piles of “learned” words were growing.  They even had me making sample sentences.  I got admonished once again that some characters are made up of a couple of radicals which need to written quite close together and for the first time found out that a totally different meaning could result.  That is an important lesson right there. 

I was reminded once again that sometimes one can learn very valuable information from other foreigners living abroad as well.  When I was not yet “legal”and  living in France, I learned most of my French from a fluent German student.  Today I continued to learn to cook from a Korean living in China.  She accepted me in her kitchen, no questions asked.  I was shown the right way to wash fruit and vegetables in China and how to sanitize a wooden cutting board by holding it over the flame of a gas burner.  Other foreigners know what it is like to be the outsider.  Sometimes I think I will scream if one more person asks me if I know how to eat with chop sticks. 

Meanwhile I will return to my weekly tai chi class taught by a real P.E. teacher, a young man who knows not a word of English and attended by eight boys and me.  We practice on a grassy knoll, next to the basketball courts.  Our location has moved around quite a bit, so I always hope I can find the class.  We practice right behind the backdoor to the cafeteria kitchen and last time a row of six women in white stood and watched me as I focused on my moves.  Just when I thought perhaps they would have lost interest, I turned and there they were standing even closer, perhaps two meters away.  That was scary.  But I guess you take entertainment where you can get it out here in the countryside.  The boys never hassle me and the one most proficient in English interprets for me when asked.  I am going to have to set up shot put and javelin coaching before the November sports meet.  These are the two events I decided to enter, not sure than running is my thing anymore.  Stay tuned.

Grace

I went to the Three Gorges Museum but the real show was outside it, in the People’s Square.  As I crested the hill on foot, I saw a tour bus waiting and assuming the worst; yes there were very large, western tourists gathering.  The size of the calves on those bare legs was astonishing.  I don’t know that they would have made it down all those steps and across the gigantic square.  Just as well they were going to board a bus and be whisked away.  To my left was a huge round, colorful domed building which I assumed to be a hotel, but wrongly.  It is in fact the Hall of the People, meant for large gatherings.  On the square I don’t know that I have ever seen so many diverse people enjoying themselves with various forms of tai chi, dance, music and singing.  Everyone seemed so fully engaged and happy in what they were doing.  I just wanted to join them.  So, for a while I did.  I found a place under the trees among the older crowd in a sort of circular space surrounded by a low cement bench.  On two sides there were erhu players.  One had a group of singers surrounding him; the other was beginning to duplicate the songs.  To the other side was a small group of older women doing their unique style of tai chi. 

erhu player & company

 I chose to sit among them and pulled out my small writing pad and my Chinese character flash cards.  I was copying, practicing my writing skills.  I am not sure you could call it calligraphy at my level.  Soon a man came to make comments.  Then a small group began to gather.  One woman sat next to me and was watching particularly closely.  She took my pad and corrected my attempts, showing me that two radicals in the same character must be written more closely together.  It was clear.  She was so attentive and gentle.  I could not help but feel inspired to try harder.  Most onlookers had nothing but praise for my efforts.  I was so at peace.  I can think of only one expression for this moment:  intensely intimate.  I could hear the music, feel the tai chi and hold my pen.  “chi”, after all, means “energy”.  I can imagine that these people are there daily, weather permitting and I will always want to go back there and I will, except that it requires at least two buses from my home. 

But in fact, these intense, engaging moments can happen anywhere.  Just yesterday I was sitting on the lowest steps, nearest the confluence of the Yangtze and the Jialing Rivers, at the famous Chao Tian Men, literally translated: “Facing the Sky Port”.  Hundreds of years ago, this place was named according to its orientation towards the imperial capital in Nanjing.  Nanjing was considered “the sky”.  There we sat, my friend and I, peeling mountain lichees, a gently delicious fruit with a frighteningly evil spiked appearance.  One must dig a small hole with a strong thumbnail and pull off the outer husk.  Inside is a white firm fruit with a central pit shaped and textured like an almond.  This is the season, so best not to postpone the taste. 

mountain lichees

 We could see the brown Yangtze and the green Jialing merging just beyond the numerous restaurant/tour boats docked permanently in the eight docks.  The other nine docks are “fake” according to my guide, just there to confuse the enemy.  I told her Americans do this too, thinking to myself of empty missile silos somewhere in the Midwest. 

Later, as I was on the final leg of my bus trip home, I found myself surrounded by people who wanted my attention but I was almost too weary to be much of a presence.  My guide for the day and I were rehashing a bit of English and Mandarin when the fellow sitting in front of us turned around and he was in fact a student I had met just two days previously.  He and his fellow students all wanted a piece of the action but talking on the bus is not always easy due to the noise level.  By the time I was getting off, one student wanted to know where he could buy the shirt I was wearing.  Strictly speaking, it is only available from Peace Corps folks in the city of San Diego, a baby blue Peace Corps shirt with the quote: “Bringing the World Back Home”.  There wasn’t much I could do for him except perhaps two years from now, if I could find him again, I could leave it in his hands.  So, on the bus, where just one week ago, I was totally alone, adrift and a bit isolated, I was suddenly overwhelmed with attention.  Little could  I have imagined!

pause during telephone practice

Let yourself imagine what these words really mean in their purist form:  earnest, sincere, innocent, determined, committed, persistent, dedicated, sacrificing, eager, keen, attentive, and ready.  And you will begin to have an idea of what my students here are like.  A teacher could not ask for a more willing audience.  Add to this the air-conditioning being pumped out in a couple of corners of the large classroom and the fully functional audio-visual set-up and you have a happy teacher.  There are a few things I am happily learning to function without: a textbook, a printer, moveable desks, and a stash of material resources.  I chuckle as I see myself not having to sort books, rearrange furniture, file piles of realia, or search for props.  All of that is now history. 

My course focuses on the oral aspect of American English related to business.  The students are either Business English or International Trade majors and they are highly motivated to be able to function in English even though it is a daunting proposition.  Speaking out in class is not exactly a Chinese thing to do.  We are working on that daily.  Each time we meet I push them a step closer to willingly practicing their spoken English skills.  Since I am not much of a lecturer, my goal is to get them talking.  We teachers can be wily creatures. Although they may be speechless when I draw their card out of my pile and call their name, they do stand in place.  What a delight to have attentive students!  What is even more amazing is that occasionally I get an interloper in class, some kid who came by just to check out “the American” perhaps or who wants to spend the time with a friend who happens to be in the class.  In any case, I tend to give these folks a tough time and eventually they leave.  Imagine, having students come to class when they don’t have to!  Is there a word which means the opposite of “truant”? 

Students, who aren’t enrolled in my classes, are eager to have exposure to the American as well.  Absolute strangers greet me with “Hello” or even “Hello, Judy”.  If at the moment I am in trouble, lost, trying to find a new venue, I might just ask for help.  I could have used some help the other day when I was in the student store trying to figure out what was shampoo and what was shower gel.  The boys in the tai chi class weren’t much help though, not being English majors.  This is a real tai chi class taught by a real P.E. teacher who gives lots of explanations, none of which I understand, but who really takes it seriously.  There are 20 boys and me.  Later, after class, when we met outside the student store, I asked them to tell me what the teacher had been talking about and they were so sincere but couldn’t understand what I wanted to know and well, my Mandarin is so meager that we never actually connected, although we did try. 

If I had been assigned first year students, I wouldn’t even be teaching yet, for the freshmen just arrived this past weekend and they are seriously committed to military training for the first four weeks.  You hear them around the campus from 8am to 9pm, marching and processing in formation, boys and girls in separate brigades.  This is mandatory throughout China for all college students. 

preparing to talk

English Corner takes the cake!  The English Language Association puts together a fun time for all:  games, charades, songs, prizes; a balancing act between meeting the American and having fun with the language.  Totally amazing was the surprise entrance of the break-dancers, performing  to rap music American style.  We set this for a regular evening time slot outside next to the ping pong tables.  I have promised a new song each week.  So far, we are working on “If you’re Happy and You Know It…” 

The 26^th Annual Day of the Teacher was held this past week.  I was invited to a meeting on that day, a meeting with important people, summoned by the top management and all I could think was, “What did I do wrong this time?”  It turned out to be a celebratory gathering for a few select faculty and staff, folks who had done particularly well this past year or gained certain status.  I got included along with my faithful interpreter/translator.  The tables were beautifully decked-out with grapes of two colors, peanuts in the shell, bottles of water and moist wipes.  I was in fact convinced to make a mini-speech, starting out in Mandarin and regressing into English.  I find this sort of thing difficult, not because I don’t know what to say, but because I become overwhelmed with emotion at the warmth of my reception in China.  It is reassuring to be valued and appreciated.

landlord and owner

 There was no way I could squeeze between the bars on the gate or even the space between gate halves, I was imprisoned.  I looked around, hoped for a glimpse of the cat, and well, finally two very sleepy looking young men who had just lit up  cigarettes, sauntered over and unlocked the gate for me.  Oh so glad!  The ladies were warming up and were definitely expecting me.  Not to disappoint.  I have to get past the fact that I am on permanent display.  I am the “big white lady” on campus.  Everyone knows.  So, whether it is the lowly or the mighty observer walking past, it is clear that I am a beginner, a learner.  There is so much I can learn from these people and I have begun, therefore I am happy.  As I think of how long these gentle, balanced and harmonious moves have been practiced in this place, I feel the powerful arm of tradition leading me on inspite of my failings.  What I need is time and patience.  There is a plethora of the first and I can pray for the rest. 

Once I begin teaching the timing will still be perfect.  The first class begins at 8:20.  Since tai chi ends at 7:00 I should still be able to put on my face in time to skiddadle off to class in time.  Perhaps as the seasons progress we will be in the dark, but all I know is that clocks don’t spring forward or fall back in China.  With just one time zone, the country leaps forward in pace with itself as a unit.  There are large red banners strung around official places which encourage folks to think positive and work towards unifying goals but it will be some time before I can read those characters.  For now I am focussed on reading the characters revealed on the faces of people around me.  Occasionally someone on a bus or in the market place will look at me squarely in the face and say “hello”.  I usually respond with “ni hao”.  The other day as I ventured on foot into the small neighboring town, I had many memorable moments including the shop keeper who invited me to sit on her narrow wooden bench out front.  She spoke with me in dialect and listened to my meager putonghua (Mandarin).  Then she had a close look at and a touch of the hair on my arms.  At the bicycle shop next door I asked very carefully for a used bike.  But of course no one knew what I was saying even in my carefully written pinyin version of “secondhand”.  They indicated I should ease my large body through the tiny aisle between the two rows of brand new bicycles and have a look.  I dutifully complied but saw not a single old or battered looking bike which would have been the “apple of my eye”.   I saw enough of the town to know that just about everything one could want or need is available there.  Walking

too high to climb over

 there is a bit of a challenge due to the route where the road is under construction, the walkway insecure and heat unrelenting.  All these things will change over time for sure.  Here are the words painted on the billboard outside the construction of a huge high-rise:  “In the university city everyone can have a life of center water and cloud”  The accompanying images are of a person holding a cat and a businessman type smoking a cigarette.  Please don’t think this phrase is a typo.  This is very typical of the Chinglish you can read everyday in my new environmnet.

Just by being here, especially pledging to be here for 27 months, makes one a target for cultural break-in, being broken in, scratching the surface, cultural vandalism, and whatnot.  The large, imposing, aging white lady with white hair is bound to catch your attention on the streets of Chengdu.  Within the boundaries of the university she is somewhat less noticeable due to her proximity to the foreign affairs department where occasionally other westerners have strayed.  Fortunately she is not voluptuously shaped or blond and curly-haired and therefore the stares don’t last quite as long.  Just recently she experienced for the first time, at least that she was aware, the full stare plus the statement, “So you’re the foreigner”, in dialect of course.  It happened while entering the elevator as a neighbor noticed her presence.  A stiff smile diffused that incident.  On one especially hot and muggy day she was sitting on a bench under a tree near home, when an elderly (let’s say in the 80-90 bracket) woman came by and joined her on the bench.  Grandma started in with a string of narration which sounded rather interesting but well, even if the westerner had gotten an “A” in Semester II Mandarin, it wouldn’t have helped.  This woman was most surely speaking Sichuanese, the local dialect.  There were pleasant facial expressions exchanged and a very polite:  “bu dong”, I don’t understand.  Eventually elderly lady number one moved to bench number two and elderly lady number two.

  Hospitality comes in many forms.  In my host family it may be offered as an invitation to a facial.  First I was asked if I wanted a massage which of course got an affirmative.  Who wouldn’t?  Later it became clear it was a facial.  Having had only one facial in my life and that being at Rancho La Puerta, there wasn’t much previous knowledge to go on.  Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I had been warned that massage parlors are not always what they seem.  In a special session on safety, the PC had explained to us that one needs to pay heed.  Like a lamb to slaughter, I climbed the stairs after my host “daughter”, who has never actually spoken a word of English to me.  She seems to understand some but she definitely wanted to treat me that day regardless of our ability to communicate.   She saw to it that the air-conditioning was turned to the right temperature as we prepared ourselves for the facial.  Bared down to our underwear we stepped on the scale and I knew my “before” weight in kg, not very pleasant.  There was light Chinese pop playing in the background and I heard rapid chatter between one of the practitioners and my compatriot.  Soon however the chatter died away and there was only the feel of carefully trained fingers on my face and various soothing, herbal-scented creams and lotions being applied.  At one point my face was poked and prodded with what felt like the back of a comb.  Later on it smelled and felt as if a tube with fire or smoke inside of it was rubbing across my skin.  Eventually a sort of semi-liquid clay was laid in place.  This was then covered with a sort of cloth or netting, just barely sparing the nostrils.  For quite some time this was allowed to dry which formed a sort of mask.  Not knowing how long this would last, not able to speak even if I had known the language, and not sure who was in the room or not, I began to ruminate on Mandarin phrases I had been studying and imagining what might eventually go into a blog.  It took some effort to not panic.  But of course patience always pays off and after perhaps a total of two hours, the process was complete.  We were handed a small container of lemon water afterwards and accounts were settled.  I could not help wondering about the door on the other side where a larger-than-life poster of a glamorously gowned lady was displayed.  What went on behind THAT door?  What I have begun to learn is that when offered this opportunity a week later, it was okay to say “no” since in fact one normally turns down a gift three times before finally accepting.  Does this apply to facials as well?  I hope so. 

Every day is market day in China.  This morning we took grandma, the chef of the household, to the market where she could bargain to her heart’s content.  According to her son, she is a master bargainer and knows in advance exactly what she wants and what she will pay.  Between asking what various items were and my host checking in his hand-held electronic dictionary, I was treated to an incredible feast of sights, sounds and smells.  Along with the spareribs, there are pigs tails, hooves and lungs.  You can buy your chicken alive, stunned or in pieces, including the feet.  No child should be ignorant of where the chicken nuggets actually come from.  Motorcycles were winding their way through the crowds when I turned around to view a baby riding in a cart with his little piece hanging out.  No question as to the gender of that one.  Baby’s clothing basically either has no bottom or has a large slit so that when action needs to be taken, there is no fuss.  According to my source baby boys take longer to train than females.  Is this world-wide?  The only time I saw someone raise their voice was the watermelon lady who insisted that her melons were the sweetest and therefore she would not come down in price AND you would return to her stand due to the quality of her fruit.  Just before exiting the market I was invited to try a pastry.  I had selected a sesame ball, filled with glutinous rice and red bean paste, when two women stepped into the 8 inch space between me and the counter.  Yes, personal space is different in China.  We had just been in-serviced as to how to “push back” if you feel that people are too close to you in line or in a crowd.  I know I have a lot to learn in this regard.  Whether I end up in a city of 200,000 or 12 million, there will be crowds.  And my fellow volunteers wonder why I don’t want to go to the tourist sites!