Teaching the teacher: The China underneath

Every Friday I sit down with sixteen different students and listen to them talk. 

One by one, they sit across from me in the bright orange felt chair and, for ten minutes, they tell me something. Depending on the week's topic, it may be the value of historical sites or the difference in eating habits between men and women.

They talk, and I listen. It serves as part of their preparation for the speaking portion of the IELTS (International English Language Testing Sytem). My job is to correct their grammar, pronunciation, vocabulary and coherence so that they can achieve a highly coveted 5.5 or higher on their exam.

At the outset, I had my reservations about this arrangement. Other ESL teachers will surely back me up when I say that speaking assessments can be incredibly tedious. There are few things quite as mind-numbing as sitting through an endless succession of students who have failed to grasp the concept of subject-verb agreement or the basic tenets of syntax. While I was happy to have a Friday morning free of classroom teaching, I wasn't sure that this was an improvement.

Up to this point, much of what I had learned about China (and subsequently written about on this blog) had come from my everyday encounters--on the bus, at the store, dining out, etc. I don't really have any Chinese friends to speak of (just brief, cordial encounters with my Chinese co-workers), so my knowledge of China and Chinese culture has been limited. Unlike in Ecuador where I was living with an Ecuadorean family and engaging in their culture on a very personal level, my engagement here has been largely confined to superficial social exchanges and observations.

Then March rolled around. The new semester started, I was assigned speaking assessments, and my students started talking. 

I remember sinking into my teal felt chair (to complement the bright orange one, of course) on that first Friday of the semester, trying to determine how quickly I could speed through the questions without raising eyebrows. The topic was family that week--an easy enough topic to kick things off with--and the first few students sped by in a unremarkable blur of incorrect verb tenses and canned responses ("I have a mom and a dad." "My older brother is nice." "I have a small family.") The next student took their seat, a girl this time, and I began to work my way through the questions. 

Here we go...

"How many people are in your family?"

"I have four people in my family."

"Okay, can you be more specific?"

"In my family, there is a mom, a dad, me, and my little brother."

I mindlessly checked off the question and robotically continued. "Great. Alright, next ques--"

"Wait. Well...actually...there are five people."

I'm not sure whether to be interested, or concerned with her counting skills. Let's go with interested. 

"Oh?"

"I had a twin. When I was born, there were two of us. But--but they killed my sister because there could only be one."

"....." 

I know I did not just hear what I think I heard. Right?!? Because if I did how do I even begin to address this? Perhaps she's mistaken or chose the wrong word. But which word could you possibly confuse with killed?

While I scrambled to find an appropriate, teacher-ly response that was both compassionate and not overly alarmed, she continued, "They chose me so I feel very lucky."

Words finally began to form. ".....they--they what? That is...I mean...you had a twin? That's so terrible. How, uh, how old are you?" 

"Sixteen."

I unsuccessfully tried to subtract the years to determine at just what time in recent Chinese history it was either okay or mandatory to kill one of your baby girls to meet government requirements. (It was unnecessary--it still is.)

I found my words again. "I'm so sorry. How awful."

"It's okay. I have a little brother now."

I spent the rest of her ten minutes in a daze--her hesitant English tapping an uneven rhythm against my eardrums but not quite breaking through. 

Although she had spoken of the incident almost casually--her eyes reflected astonishment. As though even she, sixteen years later, still couldn't quite comprehend the pain caused by the loss of her sister just moments after drawing her first breath.

I, like most Westerners, was aware of China's one-child policy long before coming to this country. Yet somehow, I had foolishly convinced myself it had long since been confined to a questionable past. An archaic law that perhaps had affected my students' parents, but certainly not the Taylor Swift-loving adolescent sitting across from me.

As the weeks have passed and our Friday conversations have continued, bits and pieces of the China "underneath" have continued to fnd a voice in my students. 

I listened as one student told me her grandmother's success story. How she left her small village as a teenager, the same age as my student, to work 14 hours a day in a factory to support herself and then continued on to become a street vendor and finally own her own business. 

I listened to another tell me of how she was born and raised in Hungary until she was 8 and how she can speak Hungarian, Mandarin and English and how she still goes "home" most summers.

I listened to students explain dejectedly how they see their parents only twice a year or how their mothers and fathers live in cities on opposite sides of China.

I listened to a student recount how she came out to her friends and instead of facing the standard rejection and humiliation typical of Chinese society, was embraced and supported. 

I listened to students jokingly admit how Chinese people will eat anything and everything, but don't trust the integrity of much of the food produced here.

I listened to them describe their ideal family, one where "the children see their parents and everyone loves each other." Or how, perhaps, it is best to be an only child because then your parents might love you more. 

With each, subsequent Friday, my initial apprehension of these speaking sessions has given way to an intense curiosity and eagerness to learn. Unwittingly, my students have morphed into my teachers--each week expounding through story on culture, history, politics, and social norms. Each week peeling back the layers of China so that, for ten minutes, I can peek at what rests beneath. 

My days here--these Friday "lessons"--are fast dwindling and it would be a shame to leave this country knowing only what I've learned from my time on the surface. So as I show students how to form the "th" sound and explain the difference between experiment and experience and remind them to say learn about and not learn on, I also listen.

Time-traveling through Beijing

A journey that commences with illness usually ends in disaster.

This, I know.

Yet somehow, despite a concerted effort to stay well, I contracted a virus mere days before taking off for Beijing. And found myself, instead of joyfully preparing for my three days in the capital, dreading the wear and tear of travel that would no doubt compound my symptoms.

I longed to feel the rush of travel-induced adrenaline at the thought of trekking across the Great Wall or stepping foot in Tienanmen Square. But, honestly, my virus-weary body simply shuddered at the amount of effort it was all going to take.

Still, I couldn't bear the thought of tossing away hundreds of dollars and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to spend the weekend convalescing in bed. So Friday afternoon, with bags packed, Ibuprofen at the ready and feeling slightly better than I had been, I made my way north.

Now, I can count on one hand the amount of times I have had a “smooth” trip when traveling. By smooth I mean everything happens travel-wise that is supposed to. My flights departed on time and arrived on time. My airport pick-up was waiting for me, sign in hand, at the arrivals gate. My room was ready and well-heated (and complete with considerate roomies). I have no doubt that a certain Someone was well aware of my current state and knew I was just one 2-hour delay away from a complete meltdown.

Prior to my trip, I had purchased a pack of face masks to combat the heavy pollution of Beijing, very much expecting scenes like this:

It was 8RMB poorly spent.

Saturday morning dawned clear and sunny. This (and the fact that most of my symptoms had beat a hasty retreat overnight) immediately brought out my wanderlust in full force. Braced with a cup of coffee and a ticking clock on my brief stay, I made my way to my first stop: Tienanmen Square.

If you've followed this blog for any period of time, you'll know that I've traveled to my fair share of historical landmarks. So I can't say why Tienanmen Square had the effect on me that it did. Surely, the sheer size of it took me aback. But I just remember instantly feeling displaced the moment I set foot in the square. It was like somehow history had clawed its way from the past, knocking aside the unsuspecting present, to spread itself out before me.

Perhaps it was the fact that the Tienanmen Square massacre happened in 1989 and not 1889--a history that overlaps with my own short life. It's an event that was always in the last chapter or two of our high school World History book. You know the chapters I mean. When "the last decade" makes that jarring shift to "last year" and your superficial high school self is suddenly eclipsed by your own mortality.

Perhaps it was the uniformed officers spaced strategically throughout the square. Or the fact that the entire event has been so meticulously swept from the Chinese consciousness that, really, it could've been last month, couldn't it? That just weeks ago protesters were clamoring for a China much different from than the one I currently live in.

Whatever the case, Tienanmen Square marked me. Even as the day passed, I couldn't shake the sense of loss that made the air over the square hang just that much heavier.

This rather stark welcome to Beijing made the shift from Tienanmen Square to the Forbidden City that much more jolting. I passed through the Gate of Heavenly Peace and under Mao's imposing visage and leapt from 1989 to 1420. Suddenly, there I was in a piece of beautifully preserved ancient China. It was surreal in the sense that I felt like I was on a set of a film about ancient China and not in actuality walking through archways and strolling through gardens that had once been the home of emperors.

I foolishly did not take the name Forbidden City literally. After wandering for what seemed like hours, I was astonished to find I had only seen about a quarter of the grounds. Thankfully, much of the city is laid out in similar patterns with similar architecture, so although there was a fair amount that I did not see, I did feel as though I was able to get the full Forbidden City experience. (For those of you considering a trip here, give yourself a full day if you have your heart set on seeing everything.)

The evening was spent time-traveling yet again. This time to 2008 to experience Beijing's Olympic Park. Myself and Janina (a new friend from Xiamen) arrived just after sunset as the Water Cube, Bird's Nest, Ling Long Pagoda, and Observation Tower all began their glowing, technicolor transformations. I was instantly pleased that I had decided to come to the park at night instead of midday. The entire area was so much more spectacular when lit. And to make things even more memorable, we passed several groups of middle-aged and elderly men and women taking part in what seemed to be an entertaining blend of tai chi and dance aerobics (see video).

Water Cube (Any guesses as to when Beijing is hosting the next Olympics?)

Ling Long Pagoda

Observation Tower

After a rather disappointing lunch of overly-oiled noodles earlier in the day, I was determined to do better for dinner. Using my hostel-provided map, Janina and I made our way to Wangfujing to experience some of Beijing's night market street food. The map stated that "closing time" for this area was 9pm. When we arrived shortly before that, I was expecting to see thinning crowds and lowering windows.

The map was wrong.

The night market was in full swing. Actually, once I saw the mass of bodies impossibly pressed into the narrow stretches of alleyway, part of me did wish for thinning crowds and lowered windows.

Entering a market, particularly a crowded one, is always a swift punch to the senses. Suddenly air and space are things to be fought for and it seems as though every sense is being more bombarded than the next.

...Oh man, is that stinky tofu or durian I'm smelling? Ah, nope, durian. Definitely, durian...Wait, what is that?! Are those live scorpions? On a skewer?? Wonder what it tastes like though...Really? Did you not just see me standing here? Yes. Yes, that arm is attached to a body...That looks delicious! Do you know what it is? I don't care, I'm totally coming back to get one....

And in this manner you weave your way through endless stalls. Stopping often, drooling frequently and buying little because obviously you can't buy this until you've seen everything else. There might be something even better at the next stall!

Sunday I devoted entirely to the Great Wall.  I knew from speaking to other travelers that, thanks to the unceasing flow of traffic, it generally takes between 2-3 hours to get there and then a few more hours to enjoy the wall and then another 2-3 hours for the the return to Beijing. I decided to book a tour with my hostel, Leo Hostel. They promised a trip to a "secret," relatively tourist-free part of the wall, complete with original, un-renovated sections. It was money well spent.

Now for those of you who recall my climb up Pichincha, you'll remember that a large part of my hiking troubles were due to the weather. The drastic temperature drop at 15,000 feet above sea level and my lack of warm clothing resulted in a miserable final push up the volcano.

Lucky for me, Sunday also dawned sunny and crystal clear. Absolutely ideal weather for a trip to the Great Wall. However, as soon as our bus pulled into the parking lot 2 1/2 hours later, we unceremoniously tumbled out into an arctic blast of 35mph wind. My mind instantly flashed to images of me, wind-battered and numb, clinging for dear life to Pichincha's craggy peak. This could not be happening again. Janina, who had gone to the wall only the day before, had reported pleasant temperatures and little wind to speak of. Where on earth had this icy windstorm blown in from? I irritably threw on my extra knit sweater, pulled up my hood and made my way to the base of the wall, bemoaning my misfortune all the way.

As it happens with most tour groups, the sixteen of us all exchanged perfunctory greetings to give each other the once over. Then, with judgments cast, coalesced into smaller factions to complete the hike. I ended up in a group with three Australians--the only other people in the group who seemed to actually want to hike the wall and not just take the requisite picture and spend the rest of the time texting in the cafe.

The four of us ended up doing a six kilometer hike in total. Now, I know all of you adventurists out there are probably chuckling under your breath at the incredible brevity of our hike. In our defense, it consisted almost entirely of up hill trekking (up stairs!) and we were being continually buffeted by gale force winds. I'm talking, I-was-physically-blown-over-several-times-by-the-wind gale force winds. And to add to the madness, once we reached the final watchtower on the renovated part of the wall, we thought it'd be fun to scramble up the next mountainside where the wall had decayed to little more than a slash of crumbled stones.

All complaints aside, though, it was an absolutely beautiful experience. One that truly cannot come more highly recommended. My hostel had lived up to its word and we encountered few other people as we climbed--leaving us completely alone to enjoy the mountains rolling away from us in all directions and the wall snaking ever-steadily before us. Even after we had hiked to that final watchtower, the wall in all of its desolated splendor continued on until it collided with the horizon and then disappeared from view.

My fingers were quite thoroughly frozen by the end of our little trek

It was difficult trying to plan my final hours in Beijing after that experience. What tops the Great Wall? And what can you squeeze into 4 1/2 hours on a Monday morning before you have to take off for the airport? I nixed a trip to the Summer Palace seeing that it was too far to risk a trip there and back in time. The Temple of Heaven was close, as was Jingshan Park. One of my new Aussie friends, however, seemed unimpressed with the Temple of Heaven, so that left Jingshan Park with its reputed bird's eye view of Beijing and the Forbidden City.

Monday was decidedly colder than Saturday or Sunday and even with my sweater and sweatshirt, I found myself (again) wishing for more layers. My legs had also fully realized what I had done to them the day before and as I walked to the subway they began vigorously protesting. My ankles also joined in the fun. By the time I exited the subway I was wincing with each step. This was helped little by the fact that I didn't actually know how to get to Jingshan Park. I had a general idea that it was north of the Forbidden City and that was about it.

After wandering up and down the same sidewalk a couple times looking for some clue as to where the park might be, I finally ran into a nice older gentleman (he clearly pitied the disoriented, hobbling foreigner) who set me on the right path.

By the time I actually arrived at Jingshan Park, I was in pain and painfully behind schedule. Wasted legs, meet stairs to the pavilions. Stairs, meet legs. Silly me. Of course a bird's eye view at the top of a hill meant climbing.

Yet, as with the Great Wall, the hike was well worth every creak and twinge as I climbed. From the topmost pavilion, I had a complete 360 degree view of Beijing.

Seeing the Forbidden City from this vantage point I was once again struck by its immensity. It's shimmering golden rooftops seemed to stretch out for miles. I could easily see why the emperors had often frequented this place in their leisure time or to host their imperial goings-on. Jingshan is actually technically part of the Forbidden City as it was the soil excavated from the moats of the Imperial Palace that created the artificial hills on which the pavilions stand.

Topmost pavilion at Jingshan Park

Sadly, my time in the park ended up being quite short as I still had to hoof it 2,000 meters back to the subway station, return to my hostel, grab my things, and catch the train to the airport.

Looking back on my brief stay in China's capital, (particularly my chaotic race around Beijing on Monday) I definitely wish that I'd had an extra day of exploration. I can't say when or if I'll ever return and I feel like in my haste to do as much as I could, I didn't have much time to do what I like best--wander. My hostel was located in a lovely little hutong and I wanted nothing more than to spend an afternoon strolling around its maze-like corridors.

For those of you considering your own trip to Beijing, I would highly recommend each of the attractions I went to, in addition to the Summer Palace (it was well reviewed by all of the other travelers I met). With its particular synergy of past and present, Beijing is the perfect place for a little time-traveling.

More pictures can be found here and if you'd like to see video clips of each of the places I visited (and live scorpions on skewers!), check out the video below.

When your travel blog becomes just a blog...

Usually when I sit down to write a blog post, I've already spent a week or so tossing around ideas in my head. Generally something catchy to kick things off with, perhaps a witty anecdote, followed by some bulleted informational tidbits (and more anecdotes) and then a strong finish with an inspirational flourish. So, generally, when I sit down to type, I have a clear idea of what I want to say and how to say it.

Not so today.

Today I just turned on my computer and thought, "Hey, let's write a blog post." So, apologies, if this post is neither riveting nor well-organized.

To be honest, my lack of pre-writing planning is due largely to the fact that I don't have much to say. Generally, I'll reach some sort of month-a-versary and therefore feel the need to sum up what's transpired in the last few months. Or I'll have just returned from a trip and be positively pulsating with news about my experiences (see previous post). 

But today is March 24th. It is a pleasantly unremarkable day. It is not a month-a-versary. I did not just come back from backpacking through Tibet or scaling the Andes. And so I feel a bit un-tethered. 

What does one say on a travel blog when there has been no recent traveling and when the novelty of adjusting to a new country has subsided?

Perhaps this is the part of living abroad when a travel blog begins the subtle shift into just...a blog. When your routines are now well entrenched. When your Saturday evenings begin to resemble the Saturday evening from the week before and the week before that. When you make small talk (very small talk with my limited Chinese) with the lady at the corner store because you're there every week to buy your usual two liters of water. When you no longer step out your door waiting to be accosted by some new "culturalism" that you've yet to encounter. "Life in China" suddenly becomes just "life." 

So, then, instead of mulling over the pros and cons of squat toilets or rehashing one of my many "Xiamen-cidents," I can talk about just "life" things. I can tell you about my job and how I have this one class that drives me absolutely bonkers and has left me questioning the practicality of continuing a teaching career. I can tell you about meeting friends for lunch after church on Sundays or for Friday movie nights. I can tell you about the cute necklace I picked up at H&M the other day. Or the guy I met. Or the new restaurant we decided to check out. Or the novel I just finished reading. Or the million other moments that fill our lives and subsequent conversations that have nothing to do with traveling/adventuring/adapting to a new country.

I like this phase. For all of my misgivings about China, I would be lying if I said it hasn't grown on me in its own strange way. It's certainly been a slow and tenuous process, but I'm not quite in the hurry I was to leave even just a month ago. I feel...settled. (To the extent that someone like me will ever feel settled anyway.) I feel like finally, after 7 months of being here and after all of the ups and downs, I've begun to make my peace with China. 

I still get squeamish when people spit near me or when I have to give a wide berth to the toddler peeing on the sidewalk or any of the myriad things I've blogged about before. But I feel like I've started to build a community here. And one thing I've learned is that having community trumps traveling any day. You could be living in the most exotic, breathtaking place on earth, but that elation and novelty isn't sustainable. As the months wear on you find that if all of your relationships are of the superficial, travelers-passing-in-the-night kind, you either begin to long for home or yet another, even more intriguing locale to distract you from the loneliness.

Buuut I'm not quite ready for a total blog conversion (and will likely never be) and this is still a travel blog, so I'm happy to announce a few upcoming trips between now and the end of the school year. At the beginning of April I will be headed to Beijing to see that Great Wall and also the Forbidden City and Tiananmen Square and whatever else I can squeeze into the three days I will be there. Then, at the end of May, I'll be headed to South Korea to spend a few days touring Seoul and finally, in July, I'll be making one last trek to Hong Kong to see all that I was unable to during my brief visa run in November. Then I'll be stateside once again on July 14th!

So next up...Beijing!

That SE Asia Life

Bloggies!!

It's been almost two months since my last entry. My deepest apologies. First semester ended in the usual chaotic ways semesters end and with less than a week before I left for my trip, I didn't have the opportunity to squeeze in an update.

To make up for it, I have not one, but four (!!) videos to get you all caught up on what went down in Thailand and Malaysia.

I know I've been vlogging alot recently, so a proper written blog entry will also be forthcoming. I'm thinking end of March/beginning of April depending on how smoothly we get this new semester started.

Please be sure to watch the intro video first and then feel free to skip around and watch whatever interests you. And for those of you not on Facebook, click here to see pictures of Bangkok, here for Phuket, and here for pictures of Malaysia.

Enjoy! (And please ignore all of the editing slip-ups. It took ages to put all of this together and upload it to YT, so there were unavoidably some issues.)

(What is this face?!)

Lumphini Park - 0:07

Temple of the Reclining Buddha - 0:39

Temple of the Emerald Buddha - 3:14

Grand Palace - 4:32

Thai-style banana pancakes - 4:57

Beach lookout - 0:06

Phang Nga Bay - Hidden lagoon - 0:26

Phang Nga Bay - 1:41

Canoe ride thru a mangrove forest - 2:42

Kho Panyi (village built on stilts) - 3:34

Krabi - 3:57

Maya Beach (where they filmed "The Beach") - 5:11

Pileh Lagoon - 7:56

"Monkey Beach" - 10:33

Bamboo Island - 11:02

View from the Big Buddha - 12:06

GEORGETOWN

Cheong Fatt Tze Mansion - 0:06

How to make an ice ball - 1:24

KUALA LUMPUR

Petronas Towers - 2:28

Malaysian-style banana pancakes - 6:12

Batu Caves - 8:37

Petronas Towers at night - 9:56

Reflections, Revisions and Excursions

A new year is upon us once again, bloggies!

I hope that each of you had a wonderful time celebrating with family and friends--whether you were up all night partying until the early hours or snuggled on the couch watching the ball drop (much more my style).

I don't know about you, but I'm still struggling to wrap my mind around the fact that it's 2015. I'm not sure what it is about that number--2015--but it seems so surreal to me. Far more so than 2013 or 2014. I mean, I remember being a kid and discussing what the world would be like this year. My brothers and I had been convinced we'd all be using hover cars by this point and that teleportation would be a very real possibility. 

Although flying cars have (sadly) yet to make a commercial appearance, I did want to take a moment to reflect upon this past year and share with you a few updates for the new one. 

(For those of you not on Facebook, click here to see pictures from our New Year's at the beach.)