And We're Off!

Well, the plan was to write a nice reflective entry about my 6-month mark in China (I got into Beijing on July 15th), but as I plan to walk out my door in 45 minutes that's not going to happen. Oh well. Instead, I leave you with this picture of my bags for the next six weeks on the road. If all goes according to plan, I will get on my first sleeper bus in three hours, arrive in Kunming early tomorrow morning, meet up with my travel buddies, chill for a day, and embark for Thailand!

I can't post a proper itinerary because I don't really have one. Basically, we'll planning on being in Bangkok for a couple days and hitting up beaches for a bit. Then, three of us five will head back up to Bangkok to meet up with family/friends while Kristin and I hang out down south a little longer, go to Angkor Wat, and then make our way back up to Chiang Mai. On February 11th, the two of us have a flight to Hong Kong where we'll meet up with Mark and Hallie and who knows who else? On February 23rd, we have to be in Kunming for training. Whether we will get there by plane, train, or bus is TBD.

For now, there's dinner to eat, a kitchen to clean, things to unplug, computers to lock in drawers, and a night bus to catch.

Fire, Water, and Food Poisoning

Fire
Mark said if he had my students he’d quit. I know my kids aren’t as bad as some of the ones in Lincang, but they’ve been getting worse lately. Last weekend Nate tried to shove his way into my room to get a cell phone I’d taken from him, yesterday Miguel reached into my bag to try and take back a jacket I’d grabbed, and on Monday there were flames in my classroom, courtesy of Harry. I’m not sure what he set on fire, but I screamed at him about it for quite some time.

I see metaphorical fire a lot these days. These kiddies really know how to push my buttons, and when I’m trying to do things, like, y’know, get them ready for what is sure to be a very difficult final, I don’t appreciate needing to take so much time for classroom discipline.

Last week, I almost caught my blanket on fire. It was touching my space heater, and I didn’t realize until it started to smell like something burning, and I realized it had a nice big brown spot on it. Oops.

Water
I got a new bucket. It’s a beautiful thing, lightweight and with a sturdy handle, large enough to hold a lot of liquid without being so big I struggle like a small child trying to fill a sandcastle moat when I lug it from the taps to my room upstairs.

With this bucket, I only have to fetch water once a day or even once every other day. My big water bucket, the one that lives in my room and holds at least 5 gallons, has been fuller than usual of late (although not tonight, as the water taps seem to have been shut off). The first time I used my new bucket, I was able to fill my big bucket almost to the brim, and I felt giddy—rich. I never thought I’d feel that way about a bucket of water, but when my big bucket’s full I feel at complete liberty to do laundry, wash my dishes with as much water as I’d like, wash my hair and face, and make tons of tea. When it’s not so full, I’m far more careful.

There’s almost always some form of water available, and, when boiled, everything’s safe, but the other day when I got water from one of the taps that links up directly to the lake (instead of one of the two that come from the spring), it was tan and included chunks of stuff. So, safe perhaps, but when I’m not on a camping trip I don’t really wanna drink it. A couple months ago I wouldn’t have. Now I just boil it and do anyway, looking forward to the return of spring water to my life.

From the time I was small I’ve known that water is a finite resource, but I never saw it quite so clearly until now, when it doesn’t come from a faucet in my room, when every time I need it I have to go get it from somewhere. Granted, I’m not going to a well or anything like that—there are still taps where I can draw it—but it’s not quite as eternally present, and it’s not nearly as convenient.

I never drink cold beverages here. Maybe once every two weeks I end up buying a bottle of water, but the rest of the time it’s tea, tea, and more tea (and occasionally hot chocolate, thanks to my American packages). I also drink a lot less than I do at home, something I’m working to rectify. I’ve realized that I’m getting dehydrated, but I also don’t at all appreciate going to the bathroom in the cold.


Food Poisoning

“你要牛奶吗？” (Do you want milk?) Malijun asked in an upbeat tone.

I stared at her, and, not even bothering to use Chinese, replied, “Oh God no.”

It’d been a rough 12 hours. The day before that exchange I noticed during my afternoon workout that whenever I had to be on my stomach I felt kinda gross, but I thought it was just because I’d had a snack not too long previously and should have waited longer before exercising. However, I didn’t eat anything after about 4:00, and at 9:30 I was feeling tired enough that I went to bed. An hour and a half later, I was puking my guts out for the first time in recent memory.

After a very rough night on both ends, I got up the following morning hoping to feel well enough to teach, but I barely made it from my bed to my couch (all of three steps) before collapsing onto it. I knew I needed to go tell my banzhuren (lead teacher) that I wouldn’t be able to do my 9 o’clock class, but the prospect of changing into jeans was just too daunting. I stuck my feet into my flats and prayed that one of the other three CEIers would be around and could walk over to the academic building for me. Malijun came to the rescue, and I went back to bed.

Several hours later I stepped out of my room into the winter sun, feeling much better indeed. I still hadn’t eaten anything, but I’d been sipping on lukewarm tea, napping on and off. Malijun, who happened to be outside as well, said I looked like me again, which I took to be a good sign. I told her I was feeling much better than I had been earlier, even though I didn’t feel ready to eat yet. That’s when she offered the milk, which is apparently considered a good “sick” food in China and which made me want to vomit again. I told her that in the States you usually drink lukewarm beverages, especially clear sodas like sprite and ginger ale (the latter, alas, a great rarity in Heqing), when you feel stomach gross. It was an enlightening conversation for us both, I think, made more so when she offered me an orange. Again, not something I wanted to try to digest. Cultural differences really do amaze.

On Language (again)

Random Canadian traveler in buffet line at the hostel where we stayed in Dali: So if you guys are teaching and living here, do you speak any Chinese?

CEIer in line (I forget who): Yeah, some. We’re not that good though.

Canadian: Do you have to speak it a lot?

CEIer: Some. I mean, we teach in Chinese.

Canadian: Wait, what?

Although I’ve had a lot of language-related stuff in my posts, I haven’t done a truly language-focused post for quite a while. So here’s an update of sorts.

Basically, I’ve come to the conclusion that dropping me (a non-native Mandarin speaker who’s only studied previously in formal contexts and in Beijing) here is not really at all akin to dropping a Chinese person into, say, Columbus, GA. Columbus is in the south, and, as such, there are very thick accent issues to work through. I’m sure that for non-native English speakers, Columbus is a frustrating place to be for some time after arrival. My students, and I would assume students all over China, study California, TV anchor English. As far as they’re concerned, there’s no such thing as a southern drawl, New York nasal vowels, or Boston dropped r’s. For beginning students, such clear English makes sense, but it also means that there’s no proper preparation for authentic situations, interacting with real, accented people. Anyway, Columbus would not be an easy place to have one’s first English interactions, even after years of formal study.

This is much worse. Because, you see, dropping me into the Dali Bai Autonomous Prefecture of Yunnan is not akin to dropping a native Chinese speaker into Columbus, Georgia, but is much closer to dropping a native Chinese speaker into a Latino Immigrant Community in Southern California.

There are three distinct languages at play here, each more incomprehensible to me than the next. First, there’s straight up Mandarin, what I studied in school and during my semester in Beijing. Only, it isn’t straight up Mandarin, because most of the students and staff here don’t speak standard Mandarin. Their tones aren’t the same as what I’ve studied, their vowels are formed differently (sounding almost British), and according to Malijun and Yiming, their grammar isn’t typical either. In a tonal language, having inaccurate tones, well, complicates speaking and comprehension. The lead teacher for my class speaks very local Mandarin, and, hence, we don’t communicate well. My kids’ accents vary, but I often need more standard speakers to translate what a less standard speakers have said.

Mandarin is the language of the classroom and of other official school business, or at least it’s supposed to be. That’s a small mercy, because it means I can sometimes begin to catch the gist of faculty meetings, even with accent issues. That being said, I’m rarely confident enough in my understanding not to check in with Yiming or Malijun for details afterwards. Plus, being the official language of school business doesn't mean it's always the language of school business.

After Mandarin comes the local dialect. It’s related to Mandarin, but if you don’t have a full grasp of Mandarin there’s essentially no way you’d understand. Arianne’s beginning to, but she’s also spent much more time living in China than the rest of us. This is one of the languages I hear out and about around the school and town. When I got here I couldn’t even tell the difference between local (accented) Mandarin and the dialect, but my ear’s improved enough that, most of the time, I can now. Some of the older people here (and, unfortunately, some of my students’ parents) don’t speak Mandarin at all, although some who don’t speak it can still understand because of TV and stuff.

The least comprehensible language, although—let’s be honest—the local dialect is equally confusing, is 白族话 (Bai Zu Hua). This is the language of the Baizu minority that populates most of these parts. There are 56 distinct “minorities” in China, and Yunnan is one of China’s most diverse regions. Considering that I’ve been living in the Bai region for well over five months I feel bad that I don’t know more about these people. I’ve now been witness to a Baizu wedding, and of course I know what married Baizu women wear, because it’s the dress I see all over the town. However, I have yet to really learn about their history, how they came to be here, and how their modern-day culture differs from that of the traditional Han culture. I do know that their language is Tibetan-Myanmese in origin and I don’t understand a word of it.

At this point I’m fairly confident in my ability to communicate with standard Mandarin speakers. I can’t discuss philosophy or politics or anything technical, but when it comes to the every day I can generally hold conversations as long as my conversation partners are patient and will help me to understand concepts. I’m not at the point that I can understand TV though, because there’s no way to stop the speakers and ask them to slow down, repeat themselves, or define a word. Someday, perhaps, I’ll get there. In the meantime, I’m trying to think of ways to keep my Mandarin from flagging during my almost 6-week absence from China. Podcasts and books, perhaps?

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.

December 17th

It’s December 17th, 2010. (My kids actually just learned how to say that. Supposedly, at least.) I don’t remember what I was doing on December 17th, 2009 or on December 17th, 2008, but December 17th, 2007 was quite literally the longest day of my life.

December 17th, 2007 began with karaoke. There was a student deal for the place near my campus in Beijing: if you entered after midnight, you could have a room for 60 kuai a person until 6 AM. So, around 12:30, my American friends and I made our way over to meet up with our Chinese roommates. Our roommates had moved out of the dorms the previous day, but we all wanted to see one another once more before heading home. We sang, we danced, we hugged, we took pictures aplenty, and, around 4, we started wandering back to our dorms to catch a couple hours sleep.

The morning was full of last-minute packing, a cab ride to the airport, and hours of waiting. Many of the kids in my study abroad program were on the same flight to Chicago, from where we’d split up for our domestic legs. We left Beijing in the afternoon and got to Chicago, according to the clocks, a couple hours later. In China, of course, it was already the next day. The flight was a bit delayed, and customs took awhile, so after I got through and transferred to the domestic terminal, I only had enough time to grab a tall-skim-lite-whip-peppermint-mocha at a Starbucks kiosk before boarding my next plane. America hit me in all of its holiday glory (and a huge boost of caffeine).

The flight to Atlanta I don’t remember in the slightest, but I do remember finding my parents. They were waiting for me at the place where most people exit security. My plane, however, had landed elsewhere, so I came up on them from behind. We drove home. I went to sleep eventually. It had been December 17th for almost 36 hours. Christmas Eve was a week later. I felt I’d been gone for so long, and I was happy to be home.

It’s December 17th, 2010. I’ve been in China for just over five months—almost a month and a half longer than my entire semester abroad—and I’m not on a plane right now. I’ll be on a plane in a month, but that plane will be to Thailand (!) and I’ll be back here about 5-6 weeks later for another semester that won’t end until mid-July.

It’s hard to be gone during the holidays. I’ve skipped Thanksgiving a lot, and there have been years when, due to how early Hanukkah’s fallen, I’ve been at school the whole time. But I’ve never skipped Christmas. Yes, I realize that I’m Jewish and that I’m considering rabbinical school, but Christmas to me has never been a religious thing. Christmas is fresh pine needles, our Christmas Eve candlelit tea party (more aptly described as a cookie party, though, to be fair, we do always have a cup or two of tea with our huge platefuls of sweets), singing carols around the piano (yes, we actually do that), being woken up by my sisters and tiptoeing to the living room hearth to experience that once-a-year feeling of a fully stuffed stocking.

I’m still not sure what I’m planning on for grad school (it’s down to either Rabbinical School or a masters and maybe Ph.D in early American history), but I do know that people matter to me more than I’d realized before. For a variety of reasons, I’m not visiting the States over the semester break, but once I get back home more permanently I’m going to make a much greater effort to travel and see people I care about. Obviously finances and obligations like school/work will make it impossible for me to travel whenever and wherever I like, but I’m considering trying to live within driving distance of my folks, and, if I have a year before grad school, I’m determined to spend it somewhere where I already have family or at least one close friend.

Although I won’t be home for Christmas this year, nor will I be alone. All of the Heqing fellows are headed to (surprise surprise) Dali, where some Lincang fellows will apparently be rendez vousing as well. I’m sure it’ll be a nice weekend, that we’ll eat good food (like cheese!) and walk around and enjoy ourselves. The Heqing fellows are doing Secret Santas as well, so that’s always fun. Our big break, however, doesn’t come until mid-January, so it’ll be back to school on Monday December 27th. I suppose in the states there are plenty of people in a similar boat who won’t get a month off later, so I still consider myself quite lucky.

There’s no doubt that I’m doing better here than I was a couple months ago. My language still isn’t improving at the rate I’d like, in my classroom I’m still having discipline and motivation programs galore, and relationships with the other teachers are rather slowly forming, but I know there’s been progress. Ultimately, I see next semester as a chance to start again, at least with my kids. There are some things I really, really need to establish better, and I think a new semester will be a great chance to do that. For now, I’ve got just shy of a month to get through two and a bit more units and review like crazy for the Final. Earlier this week, I made each kid write down his or her goal for the Final and gave them my goals. Surprisingly, most of my students seemed to get what I was after, aiming neither too high nor too low. I made them write their goals before I showed them the ones I had in mind for each of them, and most were within 10% of each other. We’ll have to see how it goes. The Mid-Term was a disaster grade-wise, but I’ve changed my teaching and testing styles fairly dramatically since, so hopefully that will prove helpful.

This weekend will mostly be a working one, but I’ve got Christmas music galore, I’ve bookmarked “Love Actually” on one of the movie streaming sites here, and I’m learning how to knit toe-up socks. I’m also greatly anticipating not one or two, but, at last count, four holiday packages currently winging their way across the Pacific. I am so loved. And once I get my parents’ peppermint extract, peppermint hot chocolate and mochas are so happening.

Why I (Pengtun 7th Grader) Want to Study

First of all, I posted two new batches of pictures—one a general update of the last couple months (Yes, crazily enough it’s been that long), the other a compilation of some of my cooking/baking adventures. Both can be found at http://anamericaninheqing.shutterfly.com. Enjoy, and onto the main event:

About a month ago I made all my student write me essays, in Chinese, about why they wanted or didn’t want to study. The kids weren’t doing their homework and weren’t really studying much in general, and I wanted them to reflect on how they were doing and how they could do better and why any of it mattered. When I gave directions, I reiterated, oh, about fifty times, that I wanted them to write how they really felt and not what they thought I wanted to hear. Some of my kids seem to have taken that to heart and others not, but, at any rate, here’s a list of reasons for studying, courtesy of rural Chinese 12-14 year olds and my translation/paraphrasing skills. (Commentary, naturally, can be found in the parentheses next to each reason.)

-“I can get lots of knowledge” (This was the first sentence of many an essay, so I guess getting lots of knowledge is rather important to these youngsters.)

-“There are opportunities to get to know teachers and classmates.” (And beat up classmates, and pass notes to classmates, and laugh at classmates….)

-“I can understand life principles.” (Not sure exactly what you’re getting at there, but I appreciate the thought)

-“I can understand English and the differences between English and other languages.” (Impressive, Molly, impressive….)

-“Because Zhou Enlai said so—you should study for the people and devote yourself to the motherland.” (Motherland—a new and useful word for the Chinese vocabulary of Emily Cohen)

-“I want to repay my parents and my teacher. I can’t fail them.” (A common sentiment in theory, but, unfortunately, a lot of my kids still fail to study enough to repay anybody. And yes, Amy, that includes you.)

-“Studying changes destiny.” (Go forth, young padawan, and control your destiny.)

-“Now is the information age.” (Perhaps so, Peter, but I’m not entirely sure how your English textbook is helping you play with the internet.)

-“Studying makes me smarter. We should all value time and want knowledge.” (And yet in class you seem to most enjoy sleeping and goofing around with your little friends….)

-“I can expand the limits of knowledge” (Not your knowledge, Jake, but knowledge in general? That’s lofty of you.)

-“Everyone only has one life and to make it more valuable we should study more knowledge.” (And then do what with it, exactly?)

-“Knowledge is important for the whole society and so I don’t become a stupid person.” (Yes, William, it is. Unfortunately, you spent half of tonight’s evening class with your eyelids flipped inside out, looking at the wrong page of the text book. So you might need to work a tad bit harder on that front.)

-“Knowledge allows us to understand more things so that when we grow up our lives will be more wonderful.” (I would like a more wonderful life. How does one go about achieving that?)

-“Everyone should respect the nine years of compulsory education.” (I believe you already do, Zoe, but, please, get the rest of your class on board)

-“Education is everyone’s right and everyone has to go to school.” (And yet, Freddy, you seem to most enjoy far-from-subtle whispered conversations with friends halfway across the room)

-“Studying is our wish and our duty. It’s an activity that delights us and makes us happy.” (I’m sure it does, Sophie, especially when you cheat on every other test.)

-“Books are our best friends and our best teachers.” (I thought that was dogs?)

-“I’m stupid, so I like to study and I like your class.” (Well, Barry, I’m not really sure how those connect, but good for you)

-“When we start middle school our thoughts are more mature than in elementary school and we should know that our reason is to learn knowledge, not play.” (Ellen, considering that your current average is around a 90%, I’d say you’re doin’ pretty well on that front)

-“Science and technology are really developed and connected to life.” (Sure, Nate. This connects to English how exactly?)

-“I don’t want to study because I’m afraid of your bad list of names and responding incorrectly.” (Leia, sweetie, you are not the smartest child in the world but I know you care because you always do your homework and when I ask easy questions you very shyly but hopefully raise your hand. You will never get on my nonexistent bad list of names.)

-“My ideal is to work in America, so I must study.” (Yes, Alanna, and stop cheating. Because, you see, if you only pretend you can speak English when you get to America you might have some problems.)

-“We can have contact with the world, impact society, and understand a lot.” (True, Mike, true.)

-“To get good grades and make the teacher happy.” (Y’know what would make me happy, River? If you’d do your freakin’ homework and not do homework for other subjects when you’re in my class!)

-“Go to college and make foreign friends.” (Miguel, you are a smart kid, and if you tried you could almost certainly get to college. However, you are also insane, so I’m not sure how that’s all gonna work out for you.)

-“Because I want to lay foundations for the future and not be illiterate.” (Luke, I don’t want you to be illiterate either, and English can help you lay foundations for the future, but somehow I don’t think it’s gonna help your ability to read Chinese all that much.)

-“To increase culture.” (Hate to break it to you, Amelia m’dear, but I’m afraid you’ve lost me there. Whose culture are we talking here?)

-“Without English we have no future.” (This would be funny, Ariel, if it wasn’t more or less true, at least as far as education is concerned. English is worth more on your high school entrance exam than any other subject, and you, unfortunately, are averaging a 25% on your tests.)

-“I don’t like to study English, but it’s important for testing.” (Yes, Connor, it is. And I think its importance is stupid, but unfortunately I don’t control the tests.)

-“To get knowledge, wealth, and happiness for myself and my family.” (Laura, considering that you are among my very best students, I’d say that’d a distinct possibility.)

-“The most afraid people in the world are the people without knowledge.” (You must be positively terrified then, Leland, considering how many of my classes you sleep through.)

-“Studying can change impulsive hearts, sharpen dull hearts, and get hearts that know nothing to know lots. It gives people meaning.” (From most students, I’d just think this was weird, but from you Sam, I’ll actually take it at face value.)

-“Because teachers teach lots, especially foreign teachers.” (Is this a good thing for you, Serenity, or a bad thing? At any rate, that is my goal. To, y'know, teach lots.)

Grocery Run

This morning after class I went into town—Heqing City. I didn’t need anything special, so I was in and out within an hour and a half. A trip to town always begins with walking a block from the school gate out to the Dali-Lijiang road that connects those two tourist spots and goes right past Heqing. Actually, from what I understand (although I could certainly be wrong), today's two-lane highway more or less follows the path of the "Horse and Tea Road," which some folks might better recognize as the "Southern Silk Road." There are two kinds of vehicles, both costing one yuan, that shuttle people to the city: 19-seater buses that I would say hold up to 40 when things get really crowded, and what I think of as “Oregon Trail” cars—five seater cabs with an arched wagon-like piece of canvas covering two benches in the pick-up truck style back. These benches hold 3-4 people each, but often there are also 5-6 people (or 3 people and a couple bikes) crammed into the small standing space between the benches. Kinda hard to picture, perhaps. I’ll try to remember my camera next time.

You flag down either kind of transport by sticking your arm out, and it’s a short ride—5-10 minutes, depending on how many times we stop to pick up or drop off more passengers. This morning I had to wait more than 10 minutes before a bus arrived. Normally, they’re much more frequent, and it was kinda chilly. I was wearing my fleece and an excellently warm alpaca scarf, but I haven’t broken out my hat or mittens much. Gloves are pretty common here, but we’re talking cute little skin-tight gloves or motorcycle gloves, not my Norwegian snowflake mittens. And, for whatever reason, I don’t see a lot of hats except for those worn by the Bai women, and those aren’t winter-knit caps. However, I’ve decided that I don’t care. Minnesota-trained or not, my hands and head are chilly.

Anyway, when I go to town, I almost always need to go both to the market and to the supermarket. Today I go to the market first, which is on the far side of town (keeping in mind that the “far” side of town is all of a 10-15-minute walk from the closer side). Once off the bus, I first have to walk through the meat and fish sections. There are two wheelbarrows full of pig heads. I have no idea why. There’s a lot of blood on them. There are always pig heads (and feet and legs and everything else), but there are not usually wheelbarrows fully devoted to the storage (display?) of pig heads. It’s really quite upsetting. So glad I don’t eat pork. In the fish section I try not to look at the flopping and suffocating piles, but peripheral vision—what can you do? Again, so glad I don’t eat fish.

Once free of the animals, I move to the potato trucks. The first time I bought potatoes, I thought they were russets and only discovered after scrubbing them in my sink that they were, in fact, red-skinned potatoes. The (mostly) ladies who sell them sit by small fires to keep warm. I buy eight—it is Chanukah, after all—and pay 5 kaui.

Then, crossing over the piles of discarded, rotting scallions and cornhusks, I make my way to my broccoli lady. I started buying broccoli from her a couple months ago, and she knows that, although I often buy other things, broccoli is always on the list. Today I supplement my large crown of broccoli with two sizable tomatoes and an eggplant, paying 7 kuai for the lot. Produce is getting a little more expensive as weather turns cooler, but there’s still plenty of it, and since it’s not hot I can buy more at one time. When I first moved here, I could really only buy veggies I’d eat within a day or two. Now I can leave food by the window and it’ll keep much longer. It’s pretty awesome.

I’ve recently rediscovered onions. Not that I’d ever not known about or liked onions, but I hadn’t really been buying them. Today I look around for one of the onion-ginger-garlic sellers. They often have other things too, but generally if people have garlic or ginger they seem to specialize in all three. I grab two red onions (I don't know if I've ever seen white or yellow onions here, actually) and 3 bulbs of garlic and pay 4.5 kuai.

The tofu lady I go to today gets into a long (because I have major accent issues) conversation with me about whether or not I can tutor her high-school-aged niece in English during the break. As over the break I won’t be in Heqing, I say I can’t do that, but who knows? Maybe next time I’ll ask if she wants me to meet with her niece on the weekend or something. At least she doesn’t seem annoyed as she cuts and bags up my 1 kuai slab of fresh tofu (about 2/3 of the size you’d get in a box in the states).

My noodle lady knows that I’m always after ersi— fettuccini-sized chewy rice noodles. I pay 1 kuai for a nicely-sized handful before moving past the many varieties of ground pepper and into the fruit lane. Here I stock up, bagging 6 or 7 clementines, 5 bananas, and 4 apples for 12 kuai.

Produce total: 30.5 yuan, or $4.50 at today’s exchange rate.

I walk past stalls bursting with socks, slippers, DVDs, and all manner of other things out of the market gate. I’m kinda hungry, so I approach a steamed bun seller and hand her 5 mao (half a kuai) for a small but warm roll, munching as I walk to the store. The market is at one end of one of the main streets cutting through town, and the supermarket I like to go to is almost at the other. It’s maybe a 10 minute walk. I pass by restaurants, clothing stores, blanket stores, convenience stores and the toilet paper store (all it sells is TP—I kid you not), as well as stands hawking papaya slices (sour and dipped in salt and chili powder, so not really my thing), spam hot dogs, and french fries. When I reach the store, I hand my backpack to the woman behind the counter (it’s not allowed inside) and grab a basket. I need a few things here: soy sauce (5.9 kuai for a 500 ml bottle), salt (1.3 kuai for a 500g bag), sponges (2.9 kuai for 4), tissues (3.8 kuai for 10 pocket packs), and sesame oil (a bit pricey at 10.8 kuai for a 180 ml bottle, but so worth it). When I reach the sesame oil aisle, I realize that I’ve forgotten the characters for it. Scanning the many bottles, I experience a brief moment of concern before centering myself and letting the characters surface once again in my mind.

Store total: 24.7 kuai ($3.71)

On my way back to the main road and my bus home, there are a few flower shops, a gaming den, and countless convenience stores. I drop into one and pick up 4 eggs for 3 kuai. Eggs are running pricey these days, but I'm a bit protein-conscious lately so I still like to keep a stock.

I wait for a minute at Heqing’s one stoplight but eventually end up jaywalking anyway, passing building supply shops, fruit and breakfast stands, and more restaurants before arriving at the seemingly arbitrary place where one can almost always find a bus waiting. Seats are already full, so I grab a handle, cushioning my eggs as best I can. This is always the scary part. I guess 10 AM on Friday is busy, because before long I find myself pushed far forward, directly behind a middle-aged gentleman and his cigarette. I'm forced to relinquish my handle in favor of the top of his seat. There are “no smoking” signs in all of the buses, but I think they’re paid about as much attention as the technical maximum capacity.

Three or four minutes after I step on, the bus sets off. We pick up two more people on the way out of town and let off a few before we get within range of my school. I yell “师傅，下车！” (Driver, get off bus!) which is, I’ve learned, the standard “Please stop” request. He pulls over and I step around people and baskets of produce to shove my not-at-all-graceful-but-at-least-efficient way down the steps. A dart across the street, a five minute walk, and I’m home again.