January Adventures

For our last luxuriously long winter break of our Peace Corps service (and maybe our lives) we wanted to make it memorable. Fortunately, traveling on a tight budget ensures non-stop adventures. Here is an episodic account of our experiences in the last month or so.

Adventure #1: Harbin Deep Freeze New Year

Chinese people have their own Lunar New Year, so the "actual" New Year by our standards goes generally unnoticed on the mainland. Last year, we went to our hostel's bar in Xi'an a few minutes before midnight expecting at least a few people to be celebrating. We were disappointed by expensive, low-quality beer and a nature documentary playing on the big screen. Midnight came and went silently, save the sound of Richy and I clinking together our small beer bottles. We resolved that this New Year's Eve would be different.

And different it was. Although we originally tried to plan a weekend in Hongkong, skyrocketing flights and hostel prices for that weekend took it out of our financial reach. However, the far-northern city of Harbin had great deals on flights for the last weekend before the official start of the world-renowned Harbin Ice Festival. The ice sculptures take weeks to carve, so even though the festival had not officially begun, many of the sculptures would be completed and the parks open. We joined our friends Amy and Daniel (the Dane) in what was arguably the worst possible hostel in the city, but it was relatively warm inside, so we stayed.

The location and dismal nature of the hostel virtually guaranteed that we would be spending most of our time out in the city, which on the first day was an exciting prospect as we ooh'ed and aah'ed at the ice sculptures and played around on the frozen over Songhua River. We inspected western style bars and Russian restaurants to find one suitable for our holiday merriment, and enjoyed Korean and Russian food as a break from our usual diet of spicy, oily noodles and fried rice.

We then enjoyed a lively, vodka- and beer-fueled New Years Eve (at an "American" style bar, oddly named USAbucks), especially after a nearby Chinese office banquet gifted us their leftover beer snacks. We made friends with several Canadian and American expats before my stomach violently decided we had had enough and we headed back to the hostel by cab.

As the weekend progressed, the cold seemed to penetrate our layers more quickly, and we found ourselves spending embarrassing number of hours at Starbucks just to stay warm and avoid the hazy pollution filling the sky (the weather statement actually simply said "-28ºC, Smoke"). Before flying back to Chongqing, Richy and I had both developed an annoying hacking cough, which we attributed to the icicles we had occasionally felt in our lungs and the dismal air pollution.

Adventure #2: Pollution Induced Chest Cold from Hell

Back in Chongqing, we had about a week planned to recover and relax after our Harbin trip and prepare for our long trip to Indonesia. Little did we know that whatever bug had caught us in Harbin would make our recovery time more like a convalescence. We spent the first few days in bed, hacking our lungs out and consuming little more than tea and light soup broth.

Our friends Leo and Katie D. had planned to come visit us during the weekend with Leo's friend, Eric, visiting from the states. We wanted to entertain them and show them around the city, but our energy was lagging and our coughs were hanging on. We managed a few outings, but we were pretty much wiped out by about 6pm every night. We found it was much easier to walk around with facemasks since it blocked the cold air and nasty exhaust fumes from irritating our coughs, but making us look like we were in quarantine.

After Katie D. and Leo left, we knew we had to recover to make our trip to Indonesia possible, so we spent the last few days barely leaving the bed, and not in a romantic way. We were hopeful that all we really needed was some warmth and sunshine to help us drive the last of our Harbin sickness away.

Adventure #3: Singapore Airport Paradise

Although we were much improved from our condition a few days earlier, we weren't exactly excited to get on an airplane, as fatigued and crappy as we already felt. Despite the convenience of the new Chongqing airport subway, we found ourselves spending an irritating amount of time schlepping around to find the outdated international terminal.

Once on the plane however, we were surprised at the level of service on Singapore Air's affiliate, Silkair, especially compared to the dirt-cheap Chinese domestic flights we had taken to and from Harbin. The meals were good, the drinks were free and the attendants were amazingly well dressed and polite. Unfortunately the flight was delayed because of rough weather near Singapore, and we were anxious the whole way knowing that we would likely miss our connecting flight to Jakarta.

Upon arrival in Singapore, Richy and I gathered our carry on luggage with a sigh, wondering what inconveniences we would need to face in the coming hours having missed our connection. Instead, the moment we stepped off the plane we were greeted by a friendly English-speaking gentleman who already had our new boarding passes for a later flight and meal vouchers to enjoy dinner at the airport restaurants. We were then ushered into what felt to us like a return to civilization with the most beautiful airport I have ever seen, complete with fast and free internet everywhere (with uncensored Facebook, Youtube and international news!), koi ponds, fern gardens, free foot massage machines, and hundreds of restaurants.

The second flight was even better than the first, and we touched down in Jakarta with time left to catch the airport shuttle. Unfortunately, Richy's bag did not appear on the baggage carousel and we heard his name come over the loud speaker. We went to the baggage office to learn that Richy's bag did not make it to Jakarta. Thankfully after some paperwork, they shoved a fistful of cash into Richy's hand (enough to pay for a cab ride and the first night for both of us at the hostel) and delivered Richy's bag to the hostel the following afternoon. Overall, two bad experiences that turned out surprisingly good. Singapore Air definitely deserves its good reputation.

Adventure #4: The Big Durian

We knew Jakarta was going to be a big, dirty city, much like Chongqing, but we didn't quite realize how different big and dirty can be in different contexts. It's often called "the Big Durian" because much like the fruit, it's big, stinky, a little intimidating from the outside and inspires a kind of love-it-or-hate-it attitude. For one, Jakarta has amazing, delicious and cheap street food on virtually every corner, whereas in Chongqing, authorities do whatever they can to keep vendors off the streets. However, Jakarta's sidewalks are mostly either too narrow to do any good or completely non-existent, so you often find yourself struggling to walk through a swirl of motorbikes and exhaust.

Despite the traffic dangers, we discovered one afternoon that nature still wields some power in such a big city. We had just finished wandering around Indonesia's impressive national museum for several hours, a visit made longer by the fact that we stayed inside to avoid a sudden torrential downpour. After the rain stopped and the sun came out, we walked over to the crosswalk so we could cross to where we could catch a bus to another part of the city. Patiently waiting for the walk signal to turn green, we felt some heavy drops coming down on us again, and Richy began to open up his umbrella, at which point we realized that it wasn't actually raining, but that a large tree was coming down on top of us! We grabbed each other and jumped into the street to get away from the falling tree as it crashed down on the light post we were standing next to. Luckily the traffic had slowed at the sight of the falling tree and we weren't hit. When we made it to the bus station, the locals who had watched the whole thing happened from across the street were patting us on the back and asking if we were okay. Our hearts were beating fast and our hair was wet, but we were unscathed.

The next part of the city we wanted to see was the old Dutch colonial neighborhood - the center of the city back when it was known as Batavia instead of Jakarta. The bus took us to the last stop by the port, and after wandering in the wrong direction for a while, we backtracked and eventually found the large square with old buildings surrounding it. While some of the buildings had been renovated with tile roofs and new coats of paint, several of the colonial era buildings had giant banyan trees growing out of them, with collapsed roofs and covered with vines. After being interviewed by some school groups about our tourism motives, we had a snack then headed out to try to find the old port. We checked our location on the map and headed in the direction of the water. Along the way, an old greasy man standing by a truck decided my presence was an invitation to grab my ass. I swung around and angrily waved my umbrella at him as he ran back into his truck, and made a point to glare at him for a good ten seconds before I ran to catch up with Richy. At that moment I realized that the fact that many Indonesians are Muslim is probably not the only reason why their trains and buses have separate sections for women. Although we found the port area eventually, it was disappointingly walled-off (in true Dutch fashion) and we had to console ourselves on the side of the road with a giant buttery pancake filled with chocolate sprinkles.

After exploring the city for a couple days, we decided to get back to nature with a trip to nearby Bogor and their famed botanical gardens. This involved a very crowded and confusing trip on Jakarta's commuter railway, and a lot of rain (with blazing sun breaks), but the gardens were absolutely amazing. Huge tropical trees, orchid gardens, herb gardens and everything from wild jungle-like areas to perfectly manicured lawns and European-style floral plantings. We saw giant lily pads the size of small cars, tiny frogs the size of bees, and a huge array of plants we had never seen before. The only disappointment was the absence of the famous giant flower that stands six feet tall and smells like rotting flesh, but we couldn't have expected much since it only blooms once every three years. We did get to see the spot where their tubers are buried, waiting to grace the world again with their giant smelly presence.

Adventure #5: Mt. Bromo

After leaving Jakarta, we headed by train to the city of Yogyakarta (pronounced Jogjakarta, and often called Jogja for short), which is famous for its batik fabric, nearby ancient temple complexes and the unusual fact that the city still has a sultan complete with his own creepy palace.

Our first night in town, we enjoyed the most amazing chicken sate ever: charcoal barbecued, with just the right balance of fat and lean meat, served with a spicy and delicious peanut sauce over traditional packed-rice cakes garnished with pickled onions, peppers and carrots.

Over the next few days, we explored the sultan's palace (creepy because of the slow, melancholy music played throughout, as well as old photos of dead people, but interesting nonetheless), and the breathtaking temple complexes of both Boroburdur and Prambanan.

Since the moment we arrived in Yogyakarta, the staff at our hotel had been pushing us to book a tour with them to Mt. Bromo, which was already on our itinerary, so we took a brochure and looked it over. One of the packages included transportation to the mountain, one night's stay at a hostel on the mountain to watch the sunrise, then continuing transportation to one of several destinations on the island of Bali. We decided that even though it was more expensive than taking public transport on our own, that the convenience of having it all getting taken care of and getting picked up at our hotel would be worth the extra cost.

At 7:30 the next morning, we were met by a van outside our hotel, which picked up another couple after us. The ride was supposed to be 10 hours, and after about 4 hours, we stopped for gas, but there was no food within sight. The driver assured us that we would stop at a restaurant in another hour. After leaving the gas station, the van was pulled over by a police officer and before rolling down the window, the driver nervously asked us for cash. Between us, we gave him 30,000 rupiahs (about 3 USD), which he then handed the police officer and stepped out of the car and into a nearby police station. They were obviously arguing and the driver kept stepping out of the station and talking to someone on the phone. After a few minutes, he came out and asked us for another 20,000. He then gave the money to the police officer and got back in the car, telling us his friend would reimburse us at the restaurant. He said that the money was for "mafia." Although I'm sure the police in the situation were corrupt, I was starting to get the feeling that the tour company might be more aptly described as an organized crime syndicate than the police were.

Later, at the restaurant (which was overpriced, small-portioned and obviously set up as a tourist trap) the driver only refunded us 40,000 of the 50,000 we had paid the police, claiming that he had no other cash available. Then, a new driver got into the van and drove us another 5 hours to the city of Probolinggo.

At this point, it had already been more than 10 hours and instead of dropping us off at the hostel on the mountain, we were being dropped off at another tour agency with a bunch of other tourists. Here, they were changing our receipts and trying to up-sell us new packages that included jeep rides and climbs to the crater of the volcano. We declined and told them that we wanted to keep the package we had already paid for and that we wanted to be taken to our hostel ASAP. They had to finish trying to up-sell all the other foreigners before we were allowed to load into a new van and finally arrive 2 hours later at our hostels (without dinner).

We were scheduled to see the sunrise over the mountain, so we awoke at 3:00 am to hike in the darkness to the viewpoint. Richy brought his headlamp and the road through mountain villages to the view point was well-marked, so the walk was steep but pleasant except for the jeeps revving up the mountain full of tourists every few minutes, leaving clouds of exhaust in their wake.

We made it to the viewpoint just as the sky began to lighten, but unfortunately the sky was overcast and the weather cold, windy and rainy. We could see the cone of Bromo in the middle of the older crater, surrounded by an eerie, barren plain, but we couldn't see the background of other volcanoes rising in the distance or the multi-colored sky that had been touted to us. We knew that the weather couldn't be helped, so we took a few photos and ate our cold, boxed breakfasts before heading back down the mountain. By that time, the villages had come to life, and since we were some of the few who had refused the jeep rides and were actually walking around on our own, the adorable village children greeted us on their way to school and locals going out for their day's work wished us a good morning.

We decided that we wanted to go back to sleep and get a full day of rest after the previous day spent in the car, so we informed the hostel that we would stay another night instead of continuing to Bali later that morning. We took a nap, had lunch, and then walked back up the mountain in the evening to try to catch the sunset. Unfortunately the clouds rolled back in just as the sun was setting, but at least we got another walk through the charming villages. As we walked down the mountain in the twilight, the Hindu temples along the way had children singing songs to Mt. Bromo over loudspeakers, an interesting and adorable counterpoint to the Muslim calls to prayer we had been hearing throughout the days elsewhere in Java.

The next morning we continued our journey toward Bali, and thanks to the rip-off tour companies, we found ourselves put on a public bus (which we could have easily booked ourselves for much less money) headed toward the ferry. To appease us, the tour guide refunded us 50,000 of our 680,000 tour price, promising that the money would then be enough cover our public transportation from the ferry terminal to our destination of Lovina. Unfortunately, when we arrived at the ferry terminal at 8:00 pm, the only van available wanted to charge us more than 10 times that price to get to Lovina.

Adventure #6: New Travel Buddies and Sewer Beaches

Luckily, we had made four new friends on the ferry. Nina, a Slovenian woman with fluent Chinese studying for her master's in Chinese in Chengdu, and Victor, a Lithuanian-Englishman teaching English in Chengdu, as well as a Dutch couple (un-affiliated with China). Since Chengdu and Chongqing are only 2 hours from each other by train, we felt like we were practically neighbors and hit it off right away. Although they had been with another tour company, they were put through the same scam and were left in the same situation as we were, stranded at the ferry terminal facing a ridiculously inflated price for a bus to the next destination. The six of us used our powers of persuasion over the course of an hour to negotiate a better price to get to Lovina, eventually working it down to a more manageable 50,000 per person (still more than 2x the price it should have been). The most satisfying moment was when Nina got one of the tour operators on the phone and screamed at him about how much of a scam he was running and how she was going to tell all her friends to avoid them.

The Dutch couple got dropped off at a place where they already had reservations, so Richy, Nina, Victor and I wandered a bit in Lovina until we found some bungalows with rooms to spare. We walked out to look at the beach from the guesthouse patio, which looked lovely under cover of darkness. We enjoyed a lovely late dinner of fried chicken served by a young girl willing to teach us some Balinese phrases, but unfortunately the light of the next morning showed that we had not in fact found paradise.

January is part of the rainy season in Bali, which means that during this time of year all the villages on the interior of the island get a lot of rain. This rain then washes mud, sewage and trash down the rivers and directly into the sea. Because the coast has reefs and lagoons, the waste does not wash out to sea very quickly, leading to roiling, foamy waves full of trash and beaches strewn with litter. Although the locals go out every morning to rake the trash into piles on the beach, it doesn't improve the water quality much and by the end of the day more trash has washed up on the shore. It highlights one of the many problems with tourism in developing countries, especially as large numbers of tourists add to already pressing problems with local infrastructure.

We enjoyed our time in Lovina nonetheless, with the trash making for particularly interesting beachcombing and conversation with our new friends keeping us busy between delicious local meals. Still, we wanted to eventually find a nice beach where we might be able to swim a little and relax in the sun.

Adventure #7: Ubud Cultural Paradise

Together with Nina and Victor, we made our way to the small tourist area of Ubud, which is considered a must-visit place for experiencing traditional Balinese culture. Although we had already planned to stay at a cheap home-stay, upon arrival we discovered that the rooms were moldy and lacked separate beds (Nina and Victor are not a couple, and therefore did not want to share a bed) so we wandered down the street and found a good deal on a nice place with a pool and wifi access.

From there we explored the town and it's lovely restaurants and coffee shops, visited the sacred monkey forest where Richy narrowly escaped having his iPod stolen by adorable but sneaky monkey fingers, and met up with some of our Peace Corps buddies for taking in some traditional dance, as well as hiking and biking through the countryside. On our last night, we discovered an amazing bbq restaurant and enjoyed some of the most amazing ribs we've had since leaving America.

Adventure #8: Amazing Ayu and Beautiful Padangbai

Nina and Victor agreed that although Ubud was great, we still needed to make another attempt at spending some time on the beach, so we agreed that our next destination would take us to somewhere toward the east of the island. With a more arid climate, the beaches on the east coast were reputed to be cleaner for lack of rain washing trash and sewage down the hillsides.

We still weren't sure if we were going to continue traveling together, so we decided to split up and check out our options before meeting up for coffee to discuss final plans. That morning, Nina had met up with a Balinese friend of a friend, who also met up with us for coffee. When we were introduced to Ayu, we sat together for coffee and talked about Balinese culture, tourism in Bali, and about life, love and family. She regretted that we already planned to leave Ubud since she didn't get to show us around and insisted that she not only pay for our coffee and lunch, but she then arranged free transportation for us to reach our next destination of Padangbai. Although she had barely met us, she showed us such amazing kindness and generosity - it was one of those moments that makes me love traveling.

Arriving in Padangbai was like a breath of fresh air. The beaches were clean, the water was blue, and the atmosphere (a mix of snorkeling and diving-based businesses, a ferry terminal and a fishing village) was very homey and relaxed. We spent 3 days in rustic bungalows enjoying fresh seafood, sunshine and relaxation. Richy also had his first experience snorkeling, which he found to be an amazing and addictive experience (I had a hard time getting used to my mask and having my face in the water, so I'll have to try again another time).

Adventure #9: Kimmie, Kuta, and Culture Shock

Finally, we headed over to the Legian area, north of Kuta to meet up with my sister Kim for the last four days of our trip. We found the villa with surprisingly little trouble despite the fact that the place was unmarked and we had very nonspecific directions. I guess living in China had just gotten us used to the idea that if you need to find something hard to find, just ask every local you see until you find it. Unfortunately Kim and her boyfriend Brett had a little bit harder time, but they got a little wider tour of the area by car as a result and afterward we enjoyed a nice dinner together at a delicious local restaurant with Brett's uncle and his girlfriend.

Over the next few days, we were taken out to see the Jimbaran seafood market, and the Bali cliffs surfing area by Brett's uncle (a retired surfer, who has been living on Bali for a few years), then wandered around the Kuta area shops and souvenir stalls with Brett's friends Scott and Alina (who also teach in China). Although the beach in Kuta was filthy (much like the one in Lovina, except most of this trash was from tourists rather than villagers) the international food was amazing and it was nice being able to see my sister again.

Being in and around so many non-Peace Corps affiliated foreigners was surprisingly uncomfortable for us though, and we experienced a bit of culture shock in dealing with the differences. It made me realize that no matter how hard Richy and I try to "go on vacation" that living abroad makes it hard not to be in traveler mode in dealing with locals, budgeting and generally letting go of all the things we've been taught to be hyper-sensitive to in the Peace Corps. Although I think this attitude helps us to save money and build relationships with locals, it doesn't exactly help us relax and relate to the perspectives of folks from home. It was a good forewarning of the challenges we'll be facing when we head back home.

Adventure #10: Singapore Layover Food Attack

After bidding farewell to Kimmie and Brett and hopping on our first plane heading back toward China, we found ourselves with 16 hours to kill in Singapore and decided to try to make the most of it. We did some quick research and decided to head toward the historic city center, where we discovered that Singapore is not only a treasure trove of human diversity, but also diversity in cuisine.

We had already eaten breakfast that morning in Kuta, enjoyed our last meal of delicious Indonesian gado-gado and homemade guacamole before boarding, then ate another lunch on the plane. So we were staring at all this amazing international Singapore food with absolutely no physical appetite. Did that stop us from stuffing ourselves with American ice cream, Indian pastries, sweet and sour pork and two whole chili crabs? We also spent every last penny we had for the trip - we even had to borrow 60¢ to get back on the metro to catch our flight to Chongqing. But it was worth it.

~ Katie

December Redux

So, it's that time of year again. Finishing up fall classes, dodging students' requests that we sing Christmas songs for hundreds of them at class parties, and trying not to miss home too much. I read US news articles about violence breaking out at Black Friday sales, about the tough economy making it hard for working families to buy gifts, about the never ending ridiculousness of American politics, and about snow and below freezing temperatures back home... and I still can't help but wish I was there! It's not quite in the way that I missed home last year, when the wound was still fresh and I would find myself fending off panic attacks and crying jags. This year, it's more of a dull ache, which usually produces a long sigh, typically followed by a cough, that reminds me not to breathe the air too deeply. Pacific Northwesterners: appreciate that lovely invisible air that surrounds you every moment of the day and fills your lungs with oxygen rich loveliness!

One upside to the dull ache however, is how easily it can be relieved with simple pleasures. Yesterday several of us visited the campus of one of our fellow volunteers, Judy, an older volunteer who has been a teacher of both French and German in the US and is always full of interesting anecdotes and surprising quirks. She lived in Germany for a time on a Fulbright Scholarship, so she still has friends and connections there. We started our visit with a lunch with the Chinese English teachers at her school, followed by sessions with eager English students during which we answered questions and discussed topics for conversation practice. The students were very sweet and excited to meet us, and our conversations were followed by lines of students asking the ubiquitous, "Can we take our picture with you?" to which we obliged several minutes of photo-taking. Afterward, Judy invited us back to her apartment in the campus hotel where she served us some amazing traditional German holiday treats including dark-chocolate coated marzipan, stollen (a spicy cookie-like treat with ground hazelnuts), lebukuchen (bread with dried fruits), and German tea. It was like Christmas in my mouth. Just sitting on a cozy couch and sipping some lovely licorice tea with our fellow volunteers gave me that warm fuzzy holiday feeling. Judy was also sweet enough to send us each off with a beautiful little handmade straw Christmas ornament from Germany and some Santa-shaped German chocolates. A big thanks to Judy and her generous friends in Germany for such holiday loveliness!

After a charming walk through the quaint communist-era factory village near her house (now partly deserted but still cozy in its dilapidation) we reached the more modern area where we needed to catch a bus back into the city. Being a Friday evening, many locals had the same idea, and so the three of us headed into the city smashed ourselves into the already packed bus, pinning ourselves between Chinese peasants and college students. So much for holiday loveliness, and back to daily life in China. We were in a hurry because we were scheduled to meet our waiban for a ride to a free evening Sichuan Opera performance provided by the Chongqing Foreign Experts Bureau (that's us, "Foreign Experts"- experts on our own foreignness). Of course the Friday traffic was unforgiving, we missed our ride but were able to make it to the theater before the performance began thanks to the miracles of Chongqing's newly expanded subway and monorail system. The performance was intended to be a holiday treat for all the foreign teachers in the city and while it was quite interesting to finally see a real Sichuan opera performance after more than a year and half here, it was a little less awe-inspiring than I had anticipated. The costumes were amazing, the tricks (mask changing, disappearing beards and fire breathing) were impressive, and the actors in the lead roles were definitely skilled, but it was a little cringe-inducing to see some of the near misses of the obviously amateur acrobats (one almost landed on the head of another during a tumbling routine, knocking his hat off), and less than stellar stage setup, which included flower arrangements that blocked views of the performances and props that looked shoddy especially compared to the elaborate costumes. But who am I to criticize a free performance (a rude and direct American who values honesty over politeness perhaps)?

Keeping ourselves busy is key to making sure our time here is productive and painless, so after the performance we enjoyed some shao kao (Chinese street bbq) with the new Mexican foreign teachers at our school, followed by a beer pong party at their house. The cups and table were smaller than the standard American version, but team USA (Richy and Jason) dominated the game against Mexican, Filipino, Chinese and British challengers alike. One of the great things about being an expat is being able have fun and make friends with people from all over the world. Today, we recover from our busy Friday night shenanigans as I scour the internet for acceptable Christmas cookie recipes that can be made without butter. We're looking forward to our last week of classes (best China Christmas present ever), and next weekend filled with more foreigner-fueled holiday excitement. Afterward, we begin our long winter break with a New Year's weekend trip to Harbin (brrr!) and our Indonesia adventure in mid-January. Then I get to see my Kimmie as a Chinese New Year present!

Happy Holidays!

~Katie

Thankfulness

Since the end of the sweltering Chongqing summer, time has flown by with unimaginable speed. I feel as though I missed the entire month of October, but was somehow able to slow down enough to have a Halloween party. It's like I woke up one day in China and actually had a normal life.

Let me recap October: My parents' visit came and went, leaving us with a refrigerator full of glorious cheeses, a bathroom full of organic toiletries and satiated with hugs from home. With them, we visited the beautiful Three Gorges on the Yangtze river by cruise ship during the week long national holiday, which was a spectacular trip. It also drove home the massive impact that the Three Gorges Dam project has had on the region in both good and bad ways (navigation and clean power vs. landslides and loss of livelihood). Given the physical challenges of schlepping around Chongqing, my parents passed the ultimate test: still sprightly enough to mount the 70+ stairs to our apartment after each outing (including Ciqikou, Dazu, Three Gorges Museum and Jie Fang Bei)! My dad earned himself bonus points by waking up early each morning and walking himself around the city (even all the way to Jie Fang Bei) with no Chinese and no map.

Richy and I also became uncle/aunt to a new baby girl at some point in there, although our internet wasn't working well enough to meet her over Skype until she was more than two weeks old.

As time flies by, I'm reflecting more and more on how this experience of living in China and being a Peace Corps volunteer has changed me. The one thing I can say definitively is that I have a new found appreciation for what it means to be thankful. In China, I try to say thank you, xie xie (谢谢), whenever someone treats me with kindness or respect, or does something that makes my life easier, even if they get paid to do it. In Chongqing, people usually respond with the phrase bu yong xie (不用谢) which literally means "don't use thanks," something I have always interpreted to be akin to saying "no problem" or "it's nothing." Today Richy and I thanked a repairman replacing our blown electrical meter switch, and a man watching him do the work told us in Chinese, "You don't need to say thanks, this guy is just doing his work. He's getting paid." Whether the man gets paid to do his work doesn't mean much to me, since I have known many situations in my life (and in China) where people don't do the things they are supposed to do, much to my consternation and inconvenience. I am thankful when people do things to help me, even, and maybe especially, if it is their job to it. I think it's okay to say to people "I'm happy that you exist and that the things you get paid to do also happen to my life better." So I have no intention of cutting down on my xie xie's to people whether they're working or not. There are worse things than being the weirdo foreigner who says "thank you" too much.

Since it is the month to be thankful, I'd like to reflect on all the things that make my life better (even if there is no conscious effort involved to help me). Part of what is humbling about my Peace Corps experience is that I have learned very well how much my privileges in life shape the way I experience the world. There are a lot of things I have that give me a leg up in life, even though I never asked for or earned them:

• First of all, I am thankful for being raised by two amazing, involved, and incredibly generous parents who encouraged me to trust myself and develop independence. I am also thankful that those two people have very different skill sets, which I have inherited and/or learned from each to make me a more capable and well-rounded person. I am also thankful that my dad has always had a job that kept us clothed, housed, well-fed and medically insured.
  
• I am thankful for an awesome partner to share this crazy life with, someone who challenges me and supports me and both forces me to stay ambitious but also keep my feet on the ground. Someone who offers me stability, flexibility and mutual respect. It also helps that he has given me some amazing in-laws (why can't we call them in-loves?) who feel as much a part of my family as my real family does.
• I am thankful for three beautiful, smart, caring and creative sisters and one handsome, intelligent and sometimes mysterious brother. All of whom I love and care and worry about more than words can express.
  
• I am thankful that I grew up with the privilege of speaking English, a skill that took no more effort than any other child learning their native language, but which gives me endless opportunities in life, travel and work. It also allows me access to a huge amount of information, virtually unparallelled in any other language.
  
• I am thankful to be healthy; thankful to have healthy parents and siblings, and six beautiful, healthy nieces and nephews.
• I am thankful that as much as the world is full of terrible things, it is also full of wonderful things that make the terrible things worth overcoming.
  
• I am thankful that on the days that living in China overwhelms me, that I can remember that I have the freedom and privilege to return to my home someday, and that I have a nationality and wealth that allows me to travel (almost) anywhere I want to.
• I am thankful that I have always been able to be in control of my reproductive decisions.
  
• I am thankful for my students who are genuinely interested in the knowledge I have to offer them.
• I am thankful that the home I look forward to returning to has beautiful clean air, rivers, evergreen trees, and safe, delicious food from around the world.
• I am thankful that I have never known what it's like to be hungry, what it's like to be homeless, or what it's like to be gravely ill.
  
• I am thankful to have had access to a world-class education, that taught me how to be a critical thinker, and gave me the tools to become my own teacher.
  
• I am thankful to have had the opportunity to choose my vocation in life.
  
• I am thankful to have things to look forward to in my future. 
• I am thankful for all the things I don't even know enough to be thankful for.
  

I know I need to be thankful for these things, because I know now more than ever what it means when you don't have them. I now have less than 8 months left of my Peace Corps service, which means I am about 2/3 of the way through my time here. It seems incredible to me that at this time next year, I will be with my family and friends, preparing to enjoy the holidays with them. Thinking about it gives me this overwhelmed feeling, like I can't believe how lucky I am to be alive in this body; how amazing it is to exist in this life I have the opportunity to live.

And, as I ponder this incredible feeling of thankfulness, I can turn my attention toward making it through this last set of holidays without my family, and look forward to a break from the concrete cold of our apartment this winter as we plan our way to the beautiful temples and beaches of Indonesia in January. (!!!)

Thankfully yours,
Katie

Who is the Peace Corps for?

A few articles I have read recently have me asking this question: one is by a returned Peace Corps volunteer who reflects on the impact her service had on her host community and the impact it had on her as a person (and from where I stole the name for this posting), and the other is about a Republican congressman from Colorado who wants funding for Peace Corps China revoked.

The Peace Corps has three simple stated goals, which we spent part of our pre-service training studying and memorizing:

1. Helping the people of interested countries meet their needs for trained men and women.
2. Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.
3. Helping promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.

As you can see, 2/3 of our role as Peace Corps volunteers in China is simply to promote better cross-cultural understandings between Americans and Chinese people. Only 1/3 of my job is actually providing China with a trained English teacher. Ironically, it's my students studying English who enforce my role as a cultural ambassador the most. Studying English, for many of them, is not something they chose to do and for many of them don't see how it will improve their future prospects much (although, to be fair, even American students rarely understand the importance of the subjects they study until they get out into the "real world"). Although the study of the English language generally seems incredibly boring to them, one highlight is that it gives them a window into the exotic realm of Western culture. If given half a chance, my students would spend hours of class time asking me about the meaning of lyrics from Lady Gaga and Britney Spears songs, whether Americans really do buy used cars (unthinkable for a middle class Chinese person), and why foreigners don't like to have their picture taken or talk about their age and salaries. This can be frustrating, since when I joined the Peace Corps, I didn't think I would spend so much of my time discussing such banal topics as the meaning of Britney Spears lyrics. It becomes even more frustrating when I read stories in the news about the dismal state of food safety in China or when a middle aged middle school English teacher (a smoker) tells me he had never before heard that smoking causes cancer. It makes me wonder whether teaching English to college students is really making a difference that matters in China. It's on those days that I become a cynic and think, maybe that Republican congressman is right, and I am just wasting my time here.

But then, I can look at it all from a different perspective. Education is one of those fields where the benefits rarely make themselves clear in the short term. Whether or not my students end up using their improved English skills to find a better job in the future (it is worth noting that the vast majority of my students are first generation college students from farming families in the countryside), I'd like to think that my simple presence in their lives expands their worldview in significant ways. I have blown students' minds by telling them such simple truths as "most Americans do not eat hamburgers everyday," "not all Americans are Christian," and that despite the fact that Americans generally prefer more open communication styles than Chinese people, we usually really don't like to be open about our personal lives. I know from my background in education that discussing these counterpoints to previously held beliefs and encouraging students to engage in genuine dialogue can help to improve critical thinking skills. Traditionally, Chinese education depends on rote memorization from lectures and textbooks, and unquestioningly accepting as fact anything that a teacher says is true. These learned behaviors also seem to translate to social and political life in China. My hope is that my students' development of critical thinking skills will help them to deal with the significant issues of corruption, food safety, public health, and environmental degradation facing China. I hope that by teaching them to question assumptions about Americans, it will also teach them to question assumptions in other areas of their lives.

There is also the thought of my future students, or if I am not lucky enough to find a job in teaching the future, my future friends and colleagues in the US who might someday ask me about my experiences in China. Goal three of the Peace Corps is to teach Americans about the people we met during our service. In addition to my Chinese language skills, I hope to be able to pass on a deeper and more respectful understanding of China. We seem to hear a lot about China in America, and truly the economic and political destinies of our two countries right now seem deeply intertwined. There is a lot of misunderstanding and mystery about China in the West and I hope to be able to shed some light on it when I return home, although that phase seems a little intangible to me right now. This blog could be considered an example of a "goal 3 activity."

Finally, there is the question of how the Peace Corps has changed me personally. I know I have become more resourceful and pragmatic. I have learned how to actively manage my health and well-being in a sometimes hostile environment. I have become tougher, more mature and less sensitive to social and physical discomforts. I have developed leadership skills and learned how to build community in difficult situations. I have learned basic oral and written communication skills in a second language. More personal benefits will likely become clear to me when we return home next summer, after I deal with the significant hurdle of "re-entry shock." Whatever the case, I am sure these skills will be invaluable in whatever the next stage of my life or career turns out to be. There is no doubt that compared to any one of my students, I have gained the most by being here. But is that what the Peace Corps is for? Is that why American taxpayer money supports the Peace Corps? Those are difficult questions to answer, but I guess I can be thankful for what it has done for me, and spend of the rest of my time here working as hard as I can trying to make a difference in the lives of the people I come in contact with, and try to spend the rest of my life sharing with others the lessons I have learned.

~ Katie

Summer in Southwest China

After our Haifeng Wetland trip and summer project, we returned to Chongqing for several days to prepare for the next leg of our summer journeys around Southwest China. It was just long enough in the oppressive heat to want to be somewhere else, preferably higher in elevation. We bought sleeper train tickets to Kunming, thinking we were so clever since we had been there before and would know exactly how to hop the buses to Lijiang, where we were planning to study Chinese for 10 days. Unfortunately we were not so clever as to double check the departure station for our train. Every other train we have taken from Chongqing has departed from the Chongqing North Station, but this train apparently only departed from the inner-city station of Cai Yuan Ba. Did our tickets say "Cai Yuan Ba" anywhere on them? No, just the simple city name of "Chongqing." So we were shocked to arrive at the north station 20 minutes early for our train, only to discover that our train was leaving from a station 30 minutes away (and much closer to our apartment). Our confusion and frustration was amplified when a sweet, well-meaning, deaf Chinese college student tried to help us communicate our predicament with the already annoyed train station staff.

Luckily in China, all train tickets are refundable (even if you've already missed your train), provided that you pay a fee equal to 20% of the ticket price. So 100 kuai in fees later, we had tickets for an early morning train to Kunming, this time aware of exactly which station it departed from. Also, luckily, a brand new metro line had just opened with a station 5 minutes from our house which would take us to the appropriate train station in record time and give us a chance to ride a giant escalator down a huge hill! So, after a hearty breakfast of baozi, we boarded our train for Kunming.

It's important to keep in mind that when you board public transportation in China, you must be prepared to face a barrage of questions that would be considered rude or too personal to ask in most Western countries. Richy and I had booked top bunk beds on three-tiered hard sleeper bunks, with the four bunks below us occupied by four friendly, chatty, middle-aged Chinese women. These are some of the questions that ensued during the several hours:

"Are you married?" "How old are you?" "Do you have children? Why not?" "Do you plan to have children?" "Why are you a volunteer?" "Can you not find a job in America that pays good money?" "Do you think you're fat?" "How old are your parents?" "Are your eyes blue or gold?" "How much do you weigh?" "How tall are you?" "Did you learn to sew and knit in America or China?" "How much money do you make in America?" "How much does a car cost in America?" "Do you have any American money that I can look at?" "Do you have a driver's license?" "How much money do your parents make?" "Do you have a romantic marriage or an arranged marriage?"

I guess our time on the train could have been considered day one of our language school, since we certainly got several hours practice in speaking and listening in Chinese. Richy and I developed a tag team pattern to give each other breaks from the endless conversation. I tried to answer the questions as honestly as possible while hinting at how uncomfortable most uninitiated foreigners would feel if questioned in the same way. "We're not accustomed to talking about this in America, but..." The fact of the matter is that Chinese people are curious about foreigners, and these questions are considered totally appropriate for Chinese people to ask each other, so if they meet a foreigner who speaks a little Chinese, why not go for it? After all, Peace Corps goal two is to educate host country nationals about Americans (and goal three is to educate all the readers back home about China...).

When we arrived in Lijiang, the air was pleasantly cool and the location of the school just north of the old town, nestled in the corner of Black Dragon Pool Park, was gorgeous. It was weird to feel the urge to wear long pants, sleeves and socks. We hadn't experienced cool, PNW-like weather since March! The night of our arrival, we were handed a written test in order to place us in our classes. The problem with written tests in Chinese is that the Peace Corps language program focuses primarily on listening and speaking, so even if we have decent conversational ability in Chinese, most Peace Corps volunteers can't read or write Chinese very well. Of the six of us volunteers, only Richy, Leo and I had spent any significant time studying characters, and Leo's Chinese was above and beyond all of us since he studied it in college. The three who hadn't studied characters got put in the lower class with the teacher who spoke English (even though some of their speaking and listening was better than mine) and Richy, Leo and I got put in the higher class with the Chinese teacher who spoke no English. She spent almost the entire first day of class (more than 4 hours) lecturing us about the culture and sights in Lijiang. I tried my best to follow along, but spent most of the time on my ipod's Chinese dictionary app translating everything she wrote on the board. We got used to her style (and she got used to ours) over the next several days and the classes became gradually more communicative and engaging. On several occasions we got frustrated with the generalizations and stereotypes she espoused about foreigners (many of her sentences began with "Nimen waiguoren..." or "You foreigners...") and ethnic minority groups in China. It was a delicate topic and Leo was the only one with the language skills to challenge her on the spot, which he did, which only led to her changing the subject rather than engaging in conversation. We spent the mornings in class, and the afternoons studying and exploring the charming, yet overpriced and overdeveloped tourist attractions of Lijiang.

By the time our classes were finished, we were more than ready to move on from Lijiang. Tim and Sara were supposed to be on their way, so we booked a hostel in the old town, run by a Naxi minority family and their friendly, outgoing matriarch, Mama Naxi. Earlier that week, we had wandered into her hostel seeking a place that could serve us decent priced Western food (which we got - with amazing burgers and sandwiches for only 15-20 kuai) only to find ourselves invited to her grandson's 19th birthday party complete with cake, fruit, singing, hugs and photos (lots and lots of photos). They were so friendly that we knew we had to return. As Richy said it best, "these are the kind of people who should be running hostels."

Unfortunately for Tim and Sara, although their flight from the US to China went without a hitch (they even got upgraded to business class!) they encountered a significant snag when they got to Shanghai and tried to board their plane to Lijiang: their reservations did not exist, even though the travel agency had already charged their card, which pushed them over their limit so their bank would not let them book new tickets. After more than 24 hours of panic and wrangling and figuring out how to use Chinese phones, they finally made it to Lijiang.

Since we had already thoroughly scoped out the city, we spent our last day in Lijiang showing Tim and Sara the significant sights, doing a little shopping to prepare for the trip Northward, and figuring out how to get to Shangrila. Our plan was to take buses from Yunnan up through Western Sichuan, staying in Tibetan towns along the way and visiting temples and doing some hikes to enjoy the scenery of the Eastern Himalayas. Little did we know that our plans were soon about to disintegrate.

We made it to Shangrila as planned. The city of Zhongdian (known as Gyalthang by local Tibetans) was renamed "Shangrila" in order to attract tourists after the fictional place name from the novel Lost Horizon, by James Hilton. While the inspiration for the book probably isn't far off the mark, the idea that the book is based on one, actual place has gotten a little out of hand, with some locals even claiming to be related to the book's fictional characters. Nonetheless, it was a quaint town wafting with the smell of incense and charcoal bbq. Our hostel was especially rustic - in a building with ancient mud brick walls, hard beds and heated with coal stove. We spent the first evening wandering the cobblestone streets of the old town and evaluated which restaurants might serve the best yak burgers, yak hotpot and yak butter tea for the best price. Sara and Tim generously treated us to a fantastic meal of pizza and burgers (something typically out of our price range on our stipend as Peace Corps volunteers).

On our second day there, we set out to walk to the other end of the city to see the Ganden Sumtseling Monastery, considered one of the four most important monasteries in Tibetan Buddhism. On our way there, we stopped by a farmer's market, where I was delighted to find local Tibetan women selling a variety of Yak milk cheeses, of which I bought myself a chunk of something mozzarella-like to nibble on (cheese is hard to find in Han Chinese areas of China, especially locally produced!). Also along the way was the bus station, so we decided to stop in and inquire about the bus schedule to the next town of Xiangcheng, which would also be the first Tibetan town in Sichuan provice (Shangrila is still in Yunnan province). The young woman at the information desk told us that the next bus would be leaving at 8:00 am the next morning and told us how much they cost. We weren't sure at that point if we wanted to leave the next day or later, so we told her we would come back later to buy our tickets. We then continued on to the monastery, a walk that became increasingly more difficult as we became easily exhausted in the thin air at over 11,000 feet. Even though I've been used to climbing at least five flights of stairs with no problems everyday in Chongqing, one flight of stairs left me out of breath in Shangrila. The monumental steps at the foot of the monastery required several rest stops on the way up.

The monastery was beautiful, peaceful and imposing, although half of it seemed to be under construction, and the sense of wonder was amplified by the dark clouds of an impending thunderstorm as hundreds of crows cawed and circled overhead. Richy and Sara made some small donations to the monks, which got them each a benevolent thump on the head and a bracelet of wooden Buddhist beads. The experience whet our appetite for further travels in Tibet and we decided on the way back that we should depart the next day for Xiangcheng.

On our return, we decided to take the local bus back into town and made our way back to the bus station to buy tickets for the next morning. This time, when we spoke to the woman about buying tickets, she quickly and curtly told us that we couldn't buy them. Were they already sold out? Confused, Richy inquired further and she told us that foreigners were no longer allowed in Xiangcheng. She didn't give us any explanation, but then told us that we could buy tickets if we wanted to, but that she couldn't guarantee that we would make it there. Our plans were dissolving before our eyes. Not knowing what else to do, we called the Peace Corps safety and security officer to see if there were any travel warnings for Western Sichuan. He said he had only heard rumors and asked to speak with the woman behind the counter. He confirmed what we had feared, no foreigners allowed in Western Sichuan, no reason given. He advised us not to try to buy tickets as it would only lead us to getting kicked off the bus or detained at the border. I guess we were lucky that we hadn't already bought tickets that morning.

We returned to the old town feeling depressed about not being able to continue our travels on the borderlands of Tibet. We decided that now was the time to try yak hotpot and yak butter tea, as it might be our last chance. So we settled down to Tibetan style hotpot in a local restaurant. The hotpot was rich and meaty, and included vegetables and dried tofu skin (my favorite) which was far and away better than most Sichuan style hot pot I've had. Tim and Sara weren't used to Chinese meat cuts yet, and found the meat a little gristly and bony by American standards, but still tasty. We finished up the meal with some sweet yak butter tea, which tasted to me a lot like chai, but also a little like Korean corn meal tea.

Upon returning to the hostel's wifi connection, we discovered the tragic event that occurred that afternoon in Western Sichuan that led to the area being closed to foreigners: the self-immolation of a Tibetan monk.

We then set our minds to deciding what we should do next: go back to Lijiang? Go to Dali? Emei Shan? Xishuangbanna? Kunming? We only had four days before we wanted to be back in Chengdu, so the options were limited by time and distance. We decided that Dali would be the best option, since it was cheaper than Lijiang, relaxing, and still cooler than Chengdu, Kunming or Chongqing. Unfortunately by the time we got back to the bus station the next morning, all tickets directly to Dali had been sold out, so we decided to take a chance: get the next tickets to Lijiang, so that hopefully by the time we got to Lijiang there would still be tickets left for the last bus of the day to Dali. Our gamble paid off, and six hours later we found ourselves on the last bus of the day to Dali.

Arriving in Dali around 10pm, we found our way to the Mama Naxi II hostel, run by a friendly young man by the name of Joker. Although we were exhausted from spending our entire day on a bus, an already tipsy Joker invited us out to join him and his friends for KTV (Chinese karaoke). We declined at first, but he persisted and finally Sara, Tim and I were lured into joining them (Richy got his way and stayed at the hostel to rest). The KTV joint was a particularly nice one, and we had a huge private room to ourselves where we were served Chinese beer (3.3% ABV), sunflower seeds, raisins, and salted sour plums. It was Sara and Tim's first KTV experience, and it had all the typical hallmarks: a smoke filled room, people screaming Chinese pop songs into microphones, and lots of Britney Spears, Lady Gaga and Michael Jackson to impress the English speakers.

We enjoyed the following day in the laid back atmosphere (and pleasing climate) of Dali, while also finding time to make arrangements for our bus to Kunming and then our train to Chengdu. After a 4 hour bus ride to Kunming, our night train to Chengdu was only supposed to be 11 hours, and unfortunately all the sleeper tickets had been sold out, so we ended up with hard seats. We knew it would be a little tough and tiring, especially for Tim and Sara's first ever train ride.

Unfortunately, not only did we not have sleeper beds for the train ride, but all the standing room on the train had also been sold out. In China, if there are no seats left on a train, they continue to sell standing-room tickets. For us, this meant the aisles on the train were full, the bathrooms were full, and moving up out of our seats was almost impossible. For Richy and I, this was a somewhat expected turn of events, but not so much for Sara and Tim. The second heartbreak of the train ride was that it ended up taking 18 hours to reach our destination instead of the 11 that was originally displayed on the ticket schedule. Again, late trains are pretty commonplace in China, so Richy and I were somewhat mentally prepared, but Tim and Sara were a bit shocked by the whole ordeal. Despite the discomfort, they earned some hardcore traveler stripes, and we made it safe and sound (if somewhat exhausted) to our hostel in Chengdu.

Chengdu's weather was warm, but nothing compared to the highs of up to 113 F that our comrades were experiencing in Chongqing, so we did our best to enjoy the outdoors and wander around. We spent a relaxing afternoon sipping tea in the People's Park, enjoyed some beloved Pete's Tex-Mex (they even have a Peace Corps discount!) and met up for drinks and a little dancing with some of our Peace Corps friends in town.

Our train to Chongqing redeemed the first trip for Sara and Tim, with the ultra-efficient 2 and 1/2 hour speed train leaving from the brand new Chengdu East train station (which to me, looked even nicer than the Beijing international airport). We sped by villages and rice paddies of the Sichuan basin in air-conditioned comfort. By the time of our arrival, the heat wave had broken, with temps back down into the upper 80's. We enjoyed a leisurely pace and the bargain prices of Chongqing, exploring the ancient town, visiting pandas, lions and monkeys at the city zoo, and introducing Tim and Sara to the oil and fire craziness that is a meal of Chongqing-style hotpot.

After seeing Sara and Tim to the early morning airport shuttle, and the bittersweet farewell (this next year is going to go by fast!) we returned to our apartment and surprisingly slept until the early afternoon. I guess I didn't realize how much this crazy summer had taken out of us. Now we begin to return to our normal life of grocery shopping, cleaning house and teaching classes, while looking forward to my parents' visit at the end of September!