Twas the Season: Christmas Week (and New Year’s) in Yunnan

Well, I’ve passed through my first Christmas away from home and my first New Year out of the country. Monday began our week and three days of review, which will be followed by finals, followed by a bus ride to Kunming and a plane ride to Bangkok. Chinese semesters are long (we started class August 29th, I believe), and it hasn’t sunk in that I only have a week with my kids before not seeing them for over a month, but I’m really looking forward to the break.

Story Time:

Christmas Apples (or, Give your Teachers Elaborately Wrapped Fruit Week)
Yunnan celebrates Christmas in its own way. Jesus has nothing to do with it, but there’s a general feeling that late December is a time to be happy and give gifts. Two weeks ago, on a venture into town, I saw a four or five-foot-tall Santa Claus figurine, in front of which were laid out many apples, ribbons, and plastic wrapping paper of various prints. This was my introduction to “Christmas Apples,” three of which showed up on my desk over the following week. Apparently, these apples are not meant to be eaten, but I thought they were tasty. Well, I thought the one I ate was tasty. Two of them are still in their wrappings, serving as coffee table centerpieces. Gift giving centers far more around Chinese New Year than it does on Christmas here, so it was sweet of my kids to share with me.

A Very Dali Christmas
Early on Christmas Eve morning, the five Heqing American fellows set off for Dali, intending to renew our visas on the way. Unfortunately, it turned out the procedure for getting visas had changed, and thus we spent an hour or so hanging around the lobby of the Dali police bureau, watching as about 30-40 Nepalese folks (we eventually caught a look at one of their passports) tried to get their visas straightened out. It was really quite exciting. Also chilly. Marble floors are not much more conducive to warmth than my concrete one. After settling into our hostel (The Hump-- the same one where we had the Thanksgiving meal), we set off for an afternoon of yummy food and coffee, chatting, and waiting for the rest of the kids to arrive. While the Heqing crowd, including our lovely Chinese fellows, had been planning on Christmas in Dali since November, it was lovely indeed to find out that we’d be joined by a large number of the Lincang folks!

Later in the afternoon, as a bunch of us sat in the hostel’s courtyard, a man in a Santa suit came running in and exclaimed that it was time for the gingerbread decorating contest. Obviously, we didn’t take much convincing, and so we made our way up the stairs to a table laden with pre-assembled but homemade gingerbread houses, icing of various colors, and fun toppings. So we spooned icing all over roofs and walls, as more and more CEI fellows trickled in. Eventually the Heqingers split off for dinner and Secret Santa gift exchanges, followed by impromptu caroling.

Then it was time to go out. Little did we realize we’d be entering a spray foam Warzone.

So there’s this stuff in China called “Flying Snow” and the best way I can think to describe it is projectile, foamy shaving cream. It comes in aerosol cans, but it squirts out like silly string and can get a lot of distance. We saw people selling it in the street upon our arrival, but none of us thought much of it until the battle erupted after dark. Nobody was safe, and no part of anybody was safe. The unspoken embargo on shooting things at one’s face and in one’s eyes usually honored during most activities of this sort was rather…not in place, nor was the notion of “unarmed combatants” being granted safe passage. It was chaos and made every one of us want to spend as little time outside as possible.

Christmas itself was lovely, beginning with French Toast at one of the cafes in town and continuing with some nice strolling and shopping, a 3 minute phone call from my parents, bike riding through villages, a buffet dinner at the hostel with rebaked potatoes and HUMMUS (among other treats), hot chocolate with Bailey’s, and a hilarious white elephant gift exchange. Each fellow was allowed to spend 15 kuai (about $2.50) and gifts included a snickers bar from the states, a slingshot, a crossbow complete with rubber-tipped arrows, a half eaten package of peeps, and....a live trout—quickly named Sullivan, and then, well, barbequed. I did not partake.

Sunday was marked by more delicious food (this time courtesy of the German bakery), a Walmart run mostly in order to stock up on peanut butter and grab some free weights, and a pleasant enough trip home. It wasn’t American Christmas, but, still, no complaints.

Pig Killings
It’s杀猪season in Heqing. In other words, this is the time of year when lots of nice plump pigs meet their doom and are made into sausage and organ sauce and all number of other…delectable…entities. Apparently, the tradition is to have dried pig’s meat for Chinese New Year’s, which necessitates killing the pigs right around now. Of course, when families kill their swine, there must be parties. Last Tuesday I was coerced into attending my first. When Yiming and I arrived at elementary school, the principal informed us that there was to be a pig killing right after class and that we were both invited. I wasn’t really sure what to expect and was a bit nervous that an about-to-no-longer-be-alive pig would greet me, but as it turned out the pig was 24 hours dead and the party was much like most others I’ve attended here: meat-heavy dishes, drinking men, and chatting. So far I’ve not been invited to any more pig killings, but some fellows have attended quite a number, so who knows?

Walking back from the Pig Killing to school, Yiming and I took the route by the lake and rice paddies (now largely a mix of shallow pools and grazing ground). I hadn’t been out that way for awhile and was really struck by its beauty. Even in what’s probably the least green part of the year, there’s so much to admire. Skies are incredibly blue, seemingly untouched by China’s pollution. The mountains capture sunlight dawn to dusk, time told by the earth’s tone shifting from black to brown to gold and black once more. I know I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: I feel so privileged to experience and live this place so many will never see.

New Years Eve, American Style (sorta)
Over the last month or so, we Heqing fellows have been trying to hang out more on the weekends. We’re all close enough to one another that we really have no excuse (aside from straight up laziness). Thus, last Friday, Hallie and Arianne came up here for a New Year’s Eve party of sorts. I’d made peppermint brownies—among my more successful rice cooker endeavors—and we hung out and chatted with YiMing and Malijun while I put together snack foods Western and not in the form of scallion pancakes and chocolate chip pancakes (with Ghirardelli double chocolate chips courtesy of Hallie’s mom. Most excellent). As eleven o’clock neared, Malijun and Yiming both announced their intention to sleep, but we would have none of it.

“In America it’s a tradition to stay up until midnight,” we explained, and, with enough badgering, we got the two to stick it out.

A few minutes before midnight, all six of us stole from our rooms to the school gate and into the street. We could hear echoes and see flashes from fireworks in Heqing, but mostly it was quiet and still—a moonless night that painted stars all the brighter.

Together, we lay on our backs by the statue in front of the lake, chilly but not cold cement tingling beneath us. After five years in Minneapolis, and three within range of New York City lights before that, I’d almost forgotten what it is to have stars—many of them—be a constant part of the night. Here, you see not only the brightest spots in the sky but under layers, stretching back into depths of darkest blue.

It was a calm New Year’s. No champagne, no poppers, not even any screaming or cheering. Just sky gazing side by side, catching a glimpse of a shooting star once or twice, marveling at the world.

In Thanks

I am very easily excited and very easily annoyed. I squeak a lot and I gripe a lot. I especially gripe a lot here. It’s all too easy for me to forget just how hard I worked to get this job and how not only nervous but how super excited I was to cross the Pacific.

But today is Thanksgiving. I’m eating my dinner of mashed potatoes, mushroom gravy, and quasi-stuffing made with celery, onions, and mushrooms picked up from the market earlier this week and bread I “baked” this afternoon. Today marks four years (more or less) since I became a vegetarian. Thank you, Annika and Dakota.

Cliché as it is, and to force myself to think positive instead of griping, I’m going to write, in no particular order, about some of what I find myself thankful for these days. Prepare for some sappy sincerity.

Emily’s Thanks
I’m thankful for my room. Cold as it gets, and as uninviting as concrete floors are, it’s really nice to have a place to retreat to—a place where I know I can be myself instead of the American teacher. Plus, my room has a couch, and a desk, and a place for me to cook, so it isn’t only a bedroom. I’d add a bathroom, a better view, and a carpet if I had my way, but as things stand I still feel quite lucky to have the space I do.

I’m thankful for my co-workers—especially Mark. Life here is a challenge, and the four of us might not be the best of friends, but if I’m having a bad day, I can hash it out with Mark, and if I’m confused about what was just said in a faculty meeting, Ma LiJun and YiMing are always willing to help out. Although Ma LiJun hasn’t really opened up much in the four months I’ve known her, I’m getting to know YiMing better, and I’d call Mark a friend.

I’m thankful for the market in Heqing. I hit up this place about once a week, and it’s awesome. Fruits and veggies, fresh tofu and rice noodles, eggs and obscene amounts of ginger and garlic…. You can get almost anything, and almost everything’s cheap. I love walking through the aisles, picking out food, going back to the vendors I’ve become something of a regular with.

I’m thankful for job security and financial security. So yeah, I earn a salary that makes my AmeriCorps stipend look quite hefty, but that money goes far here, and I don’t have to pay rent. I’ll probably have to dig into my American account for my New Year travels, but when it comes to the day-to-day stuff I really just don’t have to worry about anything. Also, barring some kind of disaster, my job’s not going anywhere. There are still a whole lotta people back home (and here in China) who can’t say that.

I’m thankful for Dali. I’ve headed down there about once a month since arriving in Heqing, and it’s always a breath of fresh air. Western food, shops, other non-Yunnanese people…. When Mark and I went down over the weekend, we openly acknowledged that we were basically taking a three-hour bus trip just to go to a coffee shop. That kinda café/coffee shoppy vibe that’s so common in so many American spots (even Fountain City in Columbus, GA) just isn’t to be found in Heqing. I swear, when I get back to the States, I’m gonna shuttle between kitchens and coffee shops for like a month. If you don’t know where I am, just go to the nearest kitchen or coffee shop and that’s where I’ll be. When I switch planes in O’Hare or wherever—Starbucks. Right away. Scoff if you like, but I’m tellin’ you…. In the meantime, Thank God for Dali.

I’m thankful for my computer and the internet. Superficial though a computer might seem, this thing is my lifeline. It connects me to skype and gmail and my blog, the NY Times (and its crossword puzzles) and Minnesota Public Radio. It lets me know what’s happening with all the people and places I care about back home. I’m not trying to be at all funny when I say that I don’t know how people used to do it. I really don’t know how people managed to travel abroad and be away from loved ones before email. Skype is an awesome bonus, and I love it, but email’s pretty much a non-negotiable. Beyond the net, this is the place where I have all of my pictures, music, and writing. Not to mention my kids’ grades.

Speaking of my kids, I’m thankful for them. That’s not to say they don’t drive me absolutely nuts (see previous post), but ultimately, they’re my reason for being here. They’re the ones who are changing my worldview and keeping me humble. Often, I feel most energized in the classroom. Of course, often, I feel most exhausted in the classroom too, but so it goes.

This getting super sappy now, but I gotta write it, so bear with me. I’m thankful to be an American. Yes, start up the patriotic music and wave those flags, but it’s true. I suppose it would be much more accurate to say that I’m thankful to be a middle class, college-educated American. Being here has hammered in for me in a way that nothing else in my life has just how lucky I am. Rural China is very different even from Beijing and other major Chinese cities. There are so, so many things that aren’t part of my existance here that I took completely for granted back home. Here are just a few. Last year, my housemates and I kept the heat around 62°F and thought we were roughing it. This year, there is no indoor heating. I’ll have a space heater for my room, but in the classroom, if it’s freezing outside, it’s gonna be freezing inside. (If you think I’m exaggerating, you might be interested to know that the two long walls of my rectangular room are all windows.) I’ve already talked about the bathroom situation. Also, diversity. America definitely has its race/religion/sexuality/class issues, but at least they’re, in many cases, acknowledged. Here, people are unabashedly ignorant of other kinds of folks. I’ve written before that it’s impossible for me, as a Caucasian women, to be anonymous. That was even true in parts of Beijing, although of course to a lesser degree than it's true here. While there are certainly places in the States where diversity doesn’t happen, it’s mostly a part of life. Now, I know the US has its downsides, and I’m not trying to sugarcoat those, but overall it’s a darn good place to live compared to much of the rest of the world. I knew that before. I really know it now.

I’m thankful I’m homesick, or, more accurately, I’m thankful that I have so much to miss—that my life in the States is so full of people and places and things that I love and don’t like being separated from. I have some amazing family and friends and I’ve lived in some wonderful places. When I start feeling too sorry for myself, I think about the many, many refugees in the Twin Cities and how they might never be able to return to the familiar homes and cultures they’ve left, and how, even if it were possible, they might not want to.

Along the same lines, I’m so thankful for everyone’s support. The emails I’ve gotten and the skype/gmail chats I’m had are what keep me smiling during my roughest times.

Finally, I’m thankful for you. Yes, you, whoever you are, whether you know me or not. As I’ve said, I get lonely here, and my blog is one of my best ways of connecting with people outside rural China. It means so much to me that people read it and come along with me for this crazy ride.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Back to the Grind

Well, it’s been a lovely week, but now it’s Thursday, which means we start classes again tonight. Today is, in effect, Wednesday, with tomorrow becoming Thursday and Saturday filling Friday’s shoes. At least we still get Sunday off. There’s an interesting article in the NY Times this week about how China’s handling the holiday schedule in general; in effect, we aren’t the only ones who are confused.

Adventures were nice. We first went to Shaxi Old Town, busing along mountain paths, competing for space with huge trucks and little motorcycles. I fell asleep as we were leaving Heqing and woke to a crazy sharp turn, at which point I giggled sleepily and pointed out to Mark and Ma Lijun that we were all going to die. No idea if I said this in English or Chinese. That’s been happening a fair amount lately—of course I’m always speaking Chinese to the local teachers/people in town, but when I’m talking to my CEI coworkers I’m managing to have whole conversations where afterwards I can’t remember the language I used. The same thing used to happen when I was studying abroad in Beijing. I’m guessing this is a good thing?

Shaxi is pretty and quiet, with far fewer tourists than I’d imagine most places had for National Day. That being said, I was shocked to spy not one or two but a good dozen Westerners wandering about, and some of said Westerners were children! I’ve seen many 20-somethings and retirees in Lijiang and Dali, but Shaxi was the first place where I’d seen young families. We think the most likely explanation is that these are families living in China who wanted a quiet place to go with their kids during the holiday. Shaxi’s good for hiking, and there’s a nice river right outside the old walls, with a few pretty bridges and farmland views. If Lijiang is the Disneyland version of a “Chinese Old Town” and Dali is the Cool Big Brother, Shaxi is the closest I’ve seen to the real deal. It still has the tourist trappings of handmade shoes labeled with American sizes, as well as its fair share of inns, but ultimately it seems as though a lot of the people there are just the people there. I liked that.

We stayed not in a traditional inn but rather in a house with a separate building containing three guest bedrooms. It was perfectly comfortable and in a nice location, with a pomegranate tree and a bunch of other plants in the courtyard. Plus a hot shower! Actually, interesting moment. Shower aside, the bathroom was an outhouse much like the one at my school—the only notable differences being the lack of a door and the fact that it was for one person rather than a dozen. If I’d encountered such a bathroom more than two months ago I would have had to pee like crazy to even consider using it. As it was, I didn’t blink.

Our time in Shaxi was spent wandering stone-paved streets…and hiding from the rain. Yes, rain. Rain that started the morning after we arrived and made mountain climbing, along with most other outdoor exploration, less than enjoyable. After spending an hour escaping a downpour by drinking tea in a nice little shop with an equally nice but not so little german shepherd, we decided it was probably best to move on. So where to go in the rain? What’s in Yunnan that doesn’t require good weather? Dali!

So the three of us piled into a van and then later onto a bus, and although we didn’t save any time by leaving from Shaxi instead of from Heqing, we knew we were headed to a good place. Of course, the holiday meant major traffic, but we still got there without too much trouble. Then there was the issue of finding a hotel. Because our bus was delayed, and the holiday week was only half over, we ended up with no choice but to share a relatively pricey room—at least compared to what we’re used to paying. Still, it was nowhere near expensive by American standards, and we had a place to dump our stuff. We introduced Ma LiJun to Indian food (not very good Indian food, unfortunately) and wandered around. Dali is just a very open, very free-feeling space. I really can’t get over how grateful I am to have it close. During our wanderings, I bought a purple hanging that is currently masking some of the white space that is my room. It’s quite pretty, with flowers and butterflies tye-dyed onto it, and it makes me happy (happier than is probably reasonable) to see it on my wall.

The next morning marked the closest experience I’ve had to a “coffee shop chill time” since getting here. We ate breakfast at the German bakery, and then we just hung out. I didn’t actually have any coffee (I haven’t, in fact, since getting to China), but I sipped on tea and we chatted and I did a little writing while Mark was responsibly lesson planning and Ma LiJun went to the bank. It was just quite lovely in every way. Then the day got even lovelier when we met up with May! She’s one of this year’s American fellows, but her family and she have lived in Dali since she was twelve, so she was home visiting. We went out to lunch together, and then May took us back to her house where we drank more tea, chatted about our schools, and met her parents and adorable seven-year-old brother. It was a really nice feeling to be in a house, to chat with some new people, and to hear more about Dali from someone who knows it well.

Because we all had colds (I’m only just now getting over mine—slept twelve hours straight a few nights ago, which I never do), we decided to head back home. Ma LiJun stayed the night in XiaGuan, the modern city right next to Dali, but Mark and I took a bus back up to Heqing. We left at five with plans to get into town at eight, but instead we didn’t make it back until after ten, because our bus stopped for about 45 minutes—twice. It was quite wretched, really, and made all the worse when the driver decided the best way to improve upon the situation would be to blast Chinese pop. I have a rule of thumb regarding my iPod that if I ever have to turn it way up to block out other sound, it’s not worth it. That ride was an exception. Upon arrival in Heqing, Mark and I discovered, much to our surprise, that our humble little city possesses a red light district. We had the pleasure of walking right by it on the way to find a cab. Luckily, nobody came out of the buildings, so there was no need for me to pretend to be Mark’s wife or something.

The last two days have mostly been about recovering from my cold, getting laundry done, and trying to think through the next couple weeks of class…which start in ten minutes. Guess I better get over there, huh? Ah well. Vacation was nice while it lasted.

A Trip to Dali

So my schedule’s a little weird this week. Wednesday was the Mid-Autumn Festival (a national holiday), so Pengtun got Wed-Friday off. Excellent, right? Five day weekend! No, no. We traded Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday for last Sunday and this whole weekend. I teach an evening class tonight and have my normal Thursday and Friday schedule tomorrow and Sunday. On Monday and Tuesday of this week, everybody was talking about the three-day vacation, but… I mean… we don’t actually get time off. Somehow most people didn’t seem to notice that fact. At any rate, it’s been really nice to have three vacation days back-to-back-to-back, even if it means having a seven-day work week starting tomorrow.

To take advantage of these three days, some of us Heqing folks decided to bus down to Dali. Dali is one of two cities in my area of Yunnan (the other being Lijiang) frequented by Chinese and Western tourists alike. Dali’s the bigger of the two, by quite a bit, and I’d say there’s more of a permanent expat population there than one would find in Lijiang. In fact, one of CEI’s American Fellows this year has lived in Dali with her family since she was twelve. (Her Dad works in agricultural exports or something.) There are a lot of Western restaurants and a bar street of sorts and little inns approximately every three feet. It’s a nice place to walk around and just chill out.

Mark, Ma LiJun, Arianne and GaoShan (two girls from JinDun, another of the Heqing schools) and I went down together on Wednesday afternoon. Buses leave frequently and take about two and a half hours. It’s a pretty ride, mostly through mountains. I took some pictures of the trip back up and will post them soon. Once arriving we wandered through the streets and found an inn. Since there were five of us, we split two rooms, with two of the girls kind enough to offer to share one of the double beds. While hardly fancy, the hotel was nice enough, with a fish pond and sit-down flushing toilets. There was even a shower in my room! Of course, the floor of the shower was kinda falling apart, but the water was warm and there was enough of it that it didn’t take me three minutes to rinse the conditioner out of my hair. Plus there was a big mirror. The beds were also a bit harder than what I would have liked, but they were perfectly adequate. And what did we pay for this place, you might like to know. Eighty kuai a room, or 32 kuai a piece. About five bucks. Not bad at all.

After dropping our stuff, we wandered in search of dinner. I was ridiculously excited at the prospect of eating something not Yunnanese—I’d seen Tibetan, Xinjiang, Indian, and Western places coming in. As we headed back towards town center, I suddenly heard someone yelling my name. Now, in the states, if I hear someone yelling “Emily!” I turn with half my attention, knowing that it could very easily be a different Emily. However, I was in Yunnan, China, and the two kids with American accents who’d come with me to Dali were standing right next to me. I turned around, and it was Kristin—my American roommate from the Lincang STP!! We had a rather epic, running-at-each-other-and-big-hugs reunion. I was so, so happy to see her. And as it turned out, she was far from the only one. There were like a dozen CEI folks who’d come up from Lincang for a couple of days. So many hugs, so many smiles, so much catching up (and I feel as though I barely got started in that respect. I wish I’d had more time with them). A lot of schools only found out they got Friday off on Tuesday night (thank you, rural China), so plans had been hastily made. Since the Lincang kids had already ordered, the Heqing folks decided to do dinner alone and meet up again later for some revelry.

We walked for quite awhile, trying to find a suitable restaurant, and eventually settled on a place that Ma LiJun and Gao Shan said was known for its pizza. They were not mistaken. It was by far the best pizza I’d had since leaving the States—thin-crusted and cheesy. We also supped on banana fritters and fruit salad, and I even got a can of seltzer water. I felt very indulgent indeed. Of course, Western food is more expensive than Chinese, but it still wasn’t that bad pricewise, and totally worth it considering the circumstances. The restaurant/bar is owned by a Scotsman and had expat bar tenders—something I’m not sure I even ever saw in Beijing. Bad Monkey, Dali, Yunnan, China. If you’re ever in the area, check it out. Bad Monkey, in fact, became CEI’s spot for the evening, which was a ton of fun. It was just so fantastic to see everyone and hang out American style. I really, really miss the Lincang people. Heqing is great, but it's isolated. I'm about seven hours from the nearest non-Heqing fellows, if I counted correctly.

A little after one, I was sleepy and decided to wander back to the hotel. An amazing thing about China is that I felt totally safe doing this. There are so many places in the States where, that late at night, I wouldn’t feel at all comfortable walking around alone. There are places like that in China too, but they’re far fewer.

The next morning, I strolled alone, wandering through the mix of stone and asphalt-paved streets that mark the city. I got to an area where there were suddenly no expats, so that was nice. Dali is a lot more integrated than Lijiang, in the sense that the “Old Town” is not just for tourists and entirely distinct from the new town. It feels healthier in that sense. That being said, there are definitely still areas more touristy than others, and it’s nice to have the option to meander away from them.

The Heqing folks (who’d gone to bed earlier than the Lincang folks—the other four all went back to the hotel at least an hour or two before me) met up for breakfast at the famed German Bakery—Bakery No. 88. Oh my goodness. I’d heard about this place from a bunch of last year’s fellows, so I was really excited to try it, and it was heavenly . just a little café, with IKEA-esque fixtures and tableware. (I know for a fact that the silverware is from there, because it says so.) They have a small collection of imported cheeses and other products, but the real treat is the bread. I had excellently chewy and flavorful ciabatta with cream cheese and homemade raspberry jam. I also splurged on a bottle of Italian olive oil and a loaf that turned out not to be the whole wheat sourdough I was told it was. I’m not crazy about the flavor, but still, it’s bread. I want to make friends with the workers there. They seem really nice, and I get the feeling I’ll be paying that place a visit at least once every time I’m in Dali.

After some more wanderings, including a stop by an English bookstore where I found a bilingual copy of “Horton Hatches an Egg” (Yay Dr. Seuss!) we ran into some CEI folks again and said our goodbyes. Then it was off to…well, Wal-Mart. Not a place I ever shop in the states but, unfortunately, one of the best places to find things in China. And find things I did! I got rotini and skippy peanut butter and ground cinnamon and dried black beans and a small bag of brown rice. No cocoa powder or chocolate chips could, unfortunately, but you can’t have everything in life.

We bussed back home after that, quietly content. Dali really was just a breath of fresh air, and I hope to get down there fairly regularly. It’s just far away enough that I won’t be tempted to go every weekend, but it’s close enough (and cheap enough to travel and sleep) that I can get there easily. I know that last year’s fellows had local friends (Chinese and otherwise) who lived in Dali, and I think that’d be really cool. It’s weird though. I’ve really never had to make friends without something major in common like school or a job. I don’t know how. We’ll see how it goes, I suppose.

Also, random moment of the day: I went into town to go shopping this morning, and I took one of the little cars that runs along the road from school to the town center. I was squeezed in next to two older Bai ladies, and one of them reached over and grabbed my arm, looked at it for a second, let it go, said something in her dialect that I couldn’t understand, and continued her conversation with the other lady. I don’t know if she was interested in my arm because it was white or because it was fat. I’m hoping for the former.