Our Life Unbound

January Adventures

2012-02-12T23:11:00.002+08:00

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

2011-12-17T15:42:00.000+08:00

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

2011-11-06T22:47:00.001+08:00

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?

2011-09-22T12:37:00.002+08:00

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:

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

2011-08-28T13:54:00.001+08:00

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!

Summer Project: Small Victories

2011-07-24T08:16:00.002+08:00

Each summer in Peace Corps China, program managers from each province help organize teacher trainings and language camps for Chinese English teachers in K-12 settings. Peace Corps volunteers teach lessons on Western style teaching methodologies and help the trainees improve their oral English, so they can go back to their classrooms with fresh ideas and skills. It seems to be a good opportunity to try to instill some of our ideas about communicative teaching and cultural awareness into the younger generation, so hopefully they won't be so shocked when they meet foreign teachers in college for the first time (foreign teachers who ask them to do strange things like work in groups, speak without notes, avoid plagiarism, and think independently). Also it hopefully will provide non-college bound students more opportunities to acquire communicative English language skills which might translate into better job prospects when they test out or can no longer afford to attend school.

I had been looking forward to summer project ever since our winter in-service training session when volunteers from the china 15 group said that it had been one of the highlights of their service. I wish I would have realized at the time that, like most experiences in the Peace Corps so far, enriching experiences like these are generally hard won (but still worthwhile) and usually require a large investment of effort in what seem, on the surface, to be minor victories. In our favor, we have an amazing, supportive and motivated program manager, so our Chongqing project was planned far in advance, and we felt pretty lucky to have the extra time to organize ourselves, review curriculum and plan lessons. This is especially appreciated in light of the lead time we are usually afforded in China, as we usually only know about school events or teaching schedules a week in advance (at the most).

We were recruited into the group for teaching middle school teachers, and we decided to cut our workload and narrow our focus into 2 day blocks, so each pair of us could be "experts" in a certain topic such as reading, grammar, pronunciation, etc. Richy and I decided to focus on writing, since I had had success teaching it over the last two terms. We scoured the summer project curriculum for useful lessons on methodology and mined and modified our own lesson stockpiles to create two days of classes that we hoped would be useful for Chinese middle school teachers looking to supplement their curriculum and help engage their students in the process of learning English. We also wanted to introduce them to some basic theoretical frameworks to understand the methods of teaching English from a Western perspective.

As so often happens with "the best laid plans" in China, the actual execution of our summer project turned out to be significantly more challenging. The first obstacles were the expectations of the trainees. Not much information had been communicated beforehand, so some teachers were expecting a crash course in improving their oral English skills, while others assumed we would be showing them directly how to adapt lessons from their textbooks into Western style lessons.

Another problem was that several (especially older) teachers felt embarrassed engaging in some of the activities meant to model some of the methods of engagement in middle school classrooms. We were suddenly met with non participating trainees boasting a litany of excuses: "I can't see," "I can't write," "I can't speak English well," and "I'm too old to play games." We wondered how they could teach with such debilitating issues. Actually, there were just finding indirect ways to tell us that they weren't into our classes. Our frustrations were best summed up in the question "Why are we here if you don't want to learn what we have to offer?" An education official from Beijing came on the third day of the training and did her best mediate what she correctly identified as a "culture clash." Her comments reflected a deep understanding of both sides of the culture divide, and the way she addressed us directly and honestly was much appreciated. Although, later we all had to take a collective deep breath and soldier on, after the blow of realizing that our teaching wasn't exactly dazzling the audience.

We realized that the teachers in the training were experiencing similar reactions and emotions to what we had experienced in our first weeks in China. Expectations and reality were so different that the temptation to disengage was strong. You can imagine that if your entire worldview and methods of teaching were being challenged, that the concept of change and adaptation can be daunting and exhausting. Of course, from our perspective, we felt like we were already being pretty flexible. After all, we had already agreed to a 3 hour lunch break in the middle of a 4.5 hour day of teaching in order to accommodate the southern Chinese custom of napping in the middle of the day to avoid the heat.

As the days passed, we modified our lessons with each rotation, and it seemed that many of the trainees were starting to understand what we were trying to accomplish. By the final day, we met as a whole group to discuss and brainstorm what had been learned during our two weeks in Wulong. This is some of what they shared:

- How to encourage student confidence
- Teaching for multiple intelligences
- Classroom management
- American culture
- How to take student abilities in to account (differentiated instruction)
- Writing skills
- Independence, open mindedness
- How to write a haiku
- Confidence and bravery for speaking English in the classroom

By the end of the session, the list had more than 20 items. It was heartwarming to see the list unfold, and to see that lessons from each of the volunteers were mentioned. It was that small victory to end a challenging couple of weeks.

Throughout our time in Wulong, one of the middle school trainees had been designated as our translator, as her spoken English was clear and fluent. This meant that she attended every official dinner and trip, and acted as our tour guide when we visited the natural sites of Wulong including the natural bridges and Furong cave. To show our appreciation, we took up a collection to buy her a "thank you" gift. We presented her with a handmade thank you card and a small box of chocolates (a luxury in China) and her tearful response, although unexpected, was another small victory. Her response reminded me that although it might not seem like we made a big difference on the surface, the training had a personal impact on everyone there, and if even a fraction of them learned something meaningful from it to share with their future students, then the effort was worth it.

~Katie

Haifeng Wetland

2011-07-08T22:58:00.001+08:00

Another item to add to the list of things I will never take for granted again (which already includes PNW weather in all forms, cheese, good beer, and clean tap water): camping. It had been more than a year since our last tent and campfire related adventure in the wilderness. When we took that trip to Umpqua hot springs last June, I didn't quite imagine how the memory of it would have to sustain me for so long in the misty concrete and jackhammer jungle of Chongqing.

About a month ago, my friend and language-exchange partner, Elle, invited Richy and I on a road trip. Excited at the prospect of a road trip, but fearful of steep accommodation prices, I recommended camping as a budget alternative, and she seemed happy with the idea. She also offered to pay for all the expenses of the trip, another example of the amazing feats of generosity Richy and I have been treated to as volunteers. After a few weeks of going back and forth about dates, possible destinations and whether there would be any guests other than Richy, Elle, her son Max, and I, we finally settled on a trip to Haifeng Wetland in Yunnan province, with stops on the way there and back at a couple of tourist sites in Guizhou province.

The trip began when Elle and Max pulled up at our building with their newer model, green Jeep SUV. It was spacious and comfy, with an ice cold AC, definitely a welcome reprieve from the over 100 degree humid heat that has been swamping Chongqing lately. Our first destination would be an "ancient town" on the outskirts of Guiyang.

In China, especially with second-tier tourist attractions that cater to a domestic rather than international crowd, the extent of "remodeling" can be a bit heart-wrenching. Qingyan ancient town was built about 700 years ago under the Ming dynasty, and remodeled under the Qing, but today the city walls stand bright, white and new, topped with gold tinted fiberglass figures of warriors, weapons and horses. The idyllic surrounding farmland is being turned into new "villa" style townhouses. When we arrived at the inn in the middle of the ancient city where we were supposed to stay the night, we found out they no longer accepted guests there because they preferred to sleep in the newer, less authentic lodgings outside the city walls. Fortunately, wandering the interior alleys of the town, you can still find some ancient architecture unscathed, while local school kids hunker under the shade of hundred year old trees to do their homework. We enjoyed some traditional bing fen (an icy unflavored jello-like substance mingled with rosewater, brown sugar, candied pears, sesame seeds and peanuts) in the shade of the trees before heading back out of the city to find the newer place to stay.

The next day, we embarked on our journey into Yunnan toward our camping destination of Haifeng wetland (not to be confused with the coastal wetland of the same name). Haifeng is an inland wetland in Zhanyi county, with salty blue water, shellfish, and gorgeous karst formations. The road out to the wetland was lined with farming villages, apple and peach orchards, and lush fields of tobacco and marigolds. The weather was perfect - sunny blue skies, a few puffy white clouds and a cool breeze strong enough to keep us cool and the mosquitoes at bay. We set up our camp, cooked up a dinner of pasta, canned fish and corn-on the cob (in typical Chinese generosity, our camp neighbors shared their potatoes, corn and tofu with us). After dark we built a campfire by the water where I showed Max how to make "real American" s'mores, and then Richy showed him the constellations.

The next morning, we woke up to find that some local dogs had come through the camp, mangling our tofu and stealing our corn. Richy and Elle had both heard the dogs in the night, and I think it had left Elle a little spooked. We enjoyed a hearty breakfast of bacon, potatoes and duck eggs, then took a walk to the edge of the wetland with Max, where Richy and Max enjoyed wading into the mud (unfortunately Richy's Chacos didn't survive the mud suction, and came out with broken straps). Upon returning, we realized that the dogs in the night and a rumor of impending rain had cut our camping trip short. Elle's tent was already packed. It all came to an end too soon, with only 16 hours of camping, but it was a glorious 16 hours.

Seven hours into our drive back to Chongqing, Elle pulled into the entrance for Hongfeng Lake, a reservoir in Guizhou, which Elle had apparently visited several years prior. The place had definitely seen better days, but we enjoyed a thrilling boat ride, some delicious food and cold beer. The next morning we toured a Disney-style version of a Dong minority village, and had our pictures taken in Dong minority clothing, complete with embossed aluminum headdresses. I don't think the concept of cultural appropriation has quite caught on in China.

All in all, with 26 hours of driving and 16 hours of camping, we definitely got to see more of the Chinese countryside and highway infrastructure than we're used to, and it was nice to have more time to spend with Elle and Max. Here's to hoping our next camping trip will be less than a year away and longer than 16 hours!

~ Katie

Best Waiban Trip Ever!

2011-06-15T10:22:00.004+08:00

What we call "the waiban" is properly translated as the Office of International Cooperation at our school, formerly the Office of Foreign Affairs. They are the ones who deal with our visas, provide us with housing (and deal with any problems that arise with said housing) and generally make sure we're doing our jobs. This office is also in charge of the foreign students who come to study at our school (currently two students from a college near Busan in South Korea). Every term, the office takes us on one all-expense-paid outing to keep us happy and make sure we all get to enjoy some of our time in China.

Last term, the trip involved eating a big lunch of a freshly butchered (within earshot) pot of chicken soup with pickled vegetables (fresh and tasty but disturbing), followed by a trip to the driving range at a golf course outside the city. When we arrived, we found the driving range had recently been closed pending demolition to make way for more "villas" (aka. Western-style townhouses) so we ended up just hitting balls from the tee-off area of the course for several hours. This was followed by another large meal of traditional Sichuan-style food. We came home feeling tired and full, but it wasn't anything to write home about (until now).

This term our waiban liaison actually asked us what we wanted to do. She listed climbing a few mountains as options, or rafting in a river on the border between Chongqing and Guizhou province. We expressed preference for the river trip (climbing mountains in the heat and humidity is less appealing). Unfortunately that plan was nixed by the waiban director because of liability issues. Granted, I am sure Chinese river rafting trips are not heavy on the safety equipment. Instead, our liaison choose to buy us all a spot on a tour of Hei Shan Gu, or Black Mountain Valley. I had heard of other PCVs being taken there by their host families, and they seemed to like it, so I was reasonably excited about it. The tour can be done two ways: hiking the whole way, or hiking part way and taking a tram and a cable car at either end of the valley. Our group opted for the tram and cable car route. Despite the fact that Richy and I would have liked more exercise, one of the student assistants accompanying us had decided that four-inch platform suede heels with silver studs would be appropriate footwear for a nature trip.

The scenery was gorgeous, the air was clean, and although we were able to surmise from our tour guide's Chinese spiel that the area was famous for monkeys and red fleshed kiwi fruits, we didn't see either. It was rainy enough to keep the air cool, but not so rainy that we couldn't enjoy ourselves. The pine trees, mist and clear water reminded me of home, and the frequent rope bridges kept us entertained (including one built like an obstacle course specifically for entertainment). It was a perfect break from the jackhammers and hustle of Chongqing city.

But our trip wasn't over yet. After taking the tour bus back into the city, we caught a cab to enjoy dinner at a hotpot restaurant, an experience we have come to enjoy as long as it happens less than twice a month. Being almost all foreigners in attendance (two Koreans, three Americans and two Chinese), the dishes were all basic meat, tofu, and vegetables, with the exception of one plate of cow stomach lining which I think Miss Studded Platform Heels ordered. Quenching the burn with a pitcher of freshly made peanut milk, it was one of the more pleasant hotpot experiences we've had thus far. After dinner, we bid the Korean students and Miss Studded Platform Heels adieu (or rather, "annyeonghi gaseyo") as they boarded a bus back to their dorms on the new campus.

With a few hundred kuai leftover in the petty cash envelope, our liaison invited the rest of us to enjoy a massage at a nearby foot massage parlor. Richy and I still had yet to experience Chinese massage, so we readily agreed, while Carol (the other American teacher on the trip) declined since she goes to the same place to get foot massages weekly anyway, and she was ready to turn in for the night. So the three of us headed off to a place called something like "Foot Massage City." Our liaison said that less than a year ago, a 90 minute massage at this place was only 35 kuai (like $5) but that with a recent renovation the price had jumped to 68 kuai (more than $10). Nonetheless, it was said to be the best spot in town, so it was probably worth the higher price.

The massage room included three large recliners with tea, blankets, and a big screen tv on the wall. We settled in, and three women came in and washed our feet in buckets of hot tea. They dried us off, then came back a few minutes later, oiled up our feet and poked, prodded, and pulled on our toes for about 30 minutes. Next, they massaged our legs, then had us flip over as they mashed their elbows and knees into our thighs and backs. The liaison asked me if I wanted them to "use a special massage tool" on my back, as it was an option included in the price. She said she forgot the English name for it, so I suggested "Is it like a back roller?" and she said "Yeah, I think so." So I laid there, thinking they were going to come back with a back roller. Instead she came back with a little bowl with some sort of stick shaped object in it. Our liaison said, "Oh, by the way, you can't take a shower for six hours after you have this done." What were they going to do? Before I had a chance to think about it, the masseuse had pulled my shirt over my head and unhooked my bra. Oil was smeared all over my back and I was being repeatedly scraped by something. It didn't hurt any more than the gruff massaging, so I just relaxed and tried to enjoy the strange sensation. After a few minutes, she wiped off the excess oil, and came back with a hot grain filled pillow which she rolled all over my back. It was very nice. She hooked up my bra and pulled my shirt back down, and continued to massage my neck, face and hands. When 90 minutes was up, we gathered our things and headed home, thanking our liaison profusely for what turned out to be quite the awesome and relaxing trip.

It wasn't until I got home that I looked at my back and figured out what they did to me! Upon looking in the mirror, I realized the tingling that I had been feeling on my back since the massage was emanating from bright red, hickey-like marks. Turns out it was Gua Sha, sometimes called "spooning" or "coining" in English, the purpose of which is to cure ailments by "scraping bad wind" out of the body. Although it's folk medicine, its similar to acupuncture in that some Western medicine practitioners are starting to pick up on the practice, although its efficacy in actually treating anything are yet to be proven. It also follows along the same theory as the practice of "cupping" (glass cups heated on your back to suck up your skin, leaving distinctive red circles) which we saw a lot of at the bathhouses in Korea. I can imagine with all the tingling it might be eliciting some kind of immune response, but I'm no doctor. Either way, it looks pretty cool.
~ Katie

Cultural Re-revolution

2011-05-26T00:16:00.001+08:00

There has been a lot in the local Chongqing news lately about Bo Xilai's efforts to bring back the "red songs" of the Mao era and generally spruce up the city with the Five Chongqings campaign (Translated as: Forest Chongqing, Livable Chongqing, Traffic-smooth Chongqing, Healthy Chongqing and Safe Chongqing). I see a lot of billboards and posters about the Five Chongqings and see the results of the campaign in thousands of trees (even some fully grown 2 ft diameter ones) being planted along roads and in newly reconstructed parts of the city, with the rapid completion of metro lines, and new outdoor police stations springing up on every street corner. But I haven't seen (or heard) any evidence of the return of the red songs. At least not until last weekend.

The past several weeks on campus, we have witnessed a quickened pace in the many construction projects on campus in the run-up to the big 60th Anniversary celebration of the college's founding. On the North Campus (where we live, but where no classes take place) they finished a new parking garage and installed a park with badminton courts on top, repaved all the pathways, installed new landscaping along the fences and tore down an old building to construct a new campus gate. On the New Campus (where we go everyday to teach our classes, and where we have a new dorm to sleep at occasionally) they installed giant countdown clocks for the May 18th Anniversary and the May 21st celebration, hung giant red lanterns and streamers along all the roads, turned an empty lot into giant park with a lake in the middle, began to turn a drainage ditch into a decorative pond, opened a fancy on-campus hotel, completed landscaping around our dorm building (despite the bottom floors being unfinished inside) and covered all the student dorm buildings with giant red banners. So needless to say, the fact that the 60th Anniversary celebration was coming was not a surprise.

What was a surprise, was being invited to the ceremony one early morning bus ride by the assistant director of the foreign relations office. I had feared the invitation because I was afraid they would ask us to give a speech in front of a giant crowd, but luckily there was no such obligation. She simply asked if we would attend that Friday evening, so we agreed. All classes were canceled for Friday, so Richy and I didn't arrive until early evening and were amazed by the thousands of students milling around campus. Usually the campus has a more somber, sleepy tone. It actually felt kind of like an American campus, where students were just lounging around, laughing, and generally enjoying the day. Of course the fact that they were all wearing matching t-shirts depending on their major was a big difference...

Around the time that the ceremony was set to begin, we wandered over to the field and found a red carpet catwalk lined with about 10 women in matching dresses standing at attention on either side. The carpet lead to rows of plastic stools, with a few executive style desks and chairs in the front. We didn't want to be presumptuous, and we didn't see anyone from the foreign relations office to guide us to our seats, so we sat down on the plastic stools (later we found out that some executive style seating had been reserved for us). The stage was set up with several giant screens, stage lights and spot lights, and real television cameras and sound booms were swinging about. The students in attendance had all been given multicolored light sabers. There was definitely an outdoor-concert vibe, and the elderly gentlemen seated in front of us kept holding up and taking photos with a banner that proclaimed they were the petroleum majors of '66, '67 and '68. I wondered what they were thinking about how their little petroleum college had changed since then (it merged with the polytechnic college 7 years ago to become the giant Chongqing University of Science and Technology - 20,000 students strong).

I was feeling sleepy and sticky in the 85 degree humidity, but when the announcers came to the stage in full formal attire and a giant spotlight, the students all started screaming with glee and waving their giant light sticks. Obviously, everything said was in Chinese, but I could pick out enough of what they were saying to know they were wishing the college a happy birthday and talking about how great and awesome everything was. The first act were the petroleum majors (generally considered the most impressive major at our college). About 50 students in matching red pants, shiny hardhats and suspenders poured onto the stage. The screens lit up with panoramas of oil derricks back lit by a sunset. It wasn't until they started singing and dancing (using their hardhats as props) that I realized that this was Bo Xilai's red song campaign manifest.

These are the fire safety majors.

I think they should have been theater majors.The petroleum majors, with their inspiring oil-themed backdrop.
It wouldn't be a red song campaign without Mao's face on Tiananmen.

This was the view of the concert space from earlier in the day. You can see why our expectations weren't too high.

~Katie

Summer Cometh

2011-04-28T10:20:00.001+08:00

Springtime in Chongqing was short and sweet. Just two weeks ago, I was padding around the apartment in my fuzzy winter slippers and a cardigan. Now, I'm sleeping sans pajamas under the sarong my mom so kindly sent me from her trip to Hawaii (thanks mom!). The question now is: how long can we make it before the temptation to use the air conditioner becomes too strong? Our two weekends of "spring," as I would consider it, involved a day trip to Fuling on the 16th to plant trees as part of a public relations event for foreign students and teachers in Chongqing and then some Earth Day/Easter-ness with our Chinese people in Chongqing. For the Fuling trip (the same town that is the setting for Peter Hessler's Rivertown) we got matching t-shirts and hats, tromped through the mud and rain to dig a couple holes in the ground and put trees into them and take pictures (to be fair, there was close to 400 people there so I think at least a couple hundred trees got planted). We then took a tour of the famed zhacai (pickled mustard tuber) factory, which was about as interesting as factory tours can be. We did get a few packs of free zhacai for our effort. For Earth Day I gave my students an overview of the holiday and showed the film Erin Brockovich, which I am hoping will encourage them to think more about how they can advocate for environmental issues in China. I then colored Easter eggs with my nine year old tutoring buddy Max, who I tutor in English in exchange for his mom tutoring me in Chinese. I drew a bunny face on one, and he drew a monster rat on another. On Sunday, instead of a traditional Easter dinner, we had a vegan Easter meal with a couple of our Chinese artist friends, my vegan PCV friend Kim, and a few Chinese friends of hers. It was low key and we spent the afternoon chatting, doing an interview for the PCV Rice Paper publication with the two Chinese vegetarians in attendance, and working on the recycling craft projects that Kim and I have been working the past couple months (mostly knitting with plastic bags).

Yesterday, at 34 C (93 F), we participated in our college's sports day craziness, which involved an 8:00 am "free breakfast" of white sugar bread and boxed milk (which they seem to think is a "Western style breakfast") followed by a nationalistic opening ceremony (apparently not as spectacular as previous years) and then a somewhat confusing "relay" that involved six people running around cones holding hands. When asked what we would call that sport in English, we coined the term "amoeba relay" which only led to confusion when the English-Chinese electronic dictionaries were busted out. Yes, small organisms that live in fresh water. No, we can't really explain why that makes sense in English. At 10 am, with the sun rising hotly in the sky, we ran the first real relay of the day, a 20 person 50 meter dash in which 10 people lined up on either side of the 50 meter marks and passed the baton back and forth while running between them. It was harder standing in the sun waiting for the baton than it was to run the 50 meters. Richy and I quickly established ourselves as some of the strongest runners of the foreign language department team, which is another way of saying that foreign language teachers at our school are not the most athletic. The ruffians in the engineering and mathematics departments put us to shame.

We got a respite from the glaring sun with a banquet-style lunch at the nearby Sunny Block (Xi Jie) shopping area, which serves as kind of a miniature entertainment district to keep the college students in University Town entertained. We hadn't been out for this kind of meal for a few months, and such banquets are much more enjoyable when they are few and far between. It's easier to enjoy the abundance of oil and spicy dishes when you aren't recovering from eating them just a few days prior. We got back to campus with a few hours to spare before the next relay at 4:00 pm, so we went to our campus apartment to cool off and take a nap.

The 100 meter relay was a little more challenging physically, and also more formal, with starting blocks and numbered jerseys. Our team came in last in both the women's and the men's event (there's just no beating those petroleum engineers), but we were glad to have participated and be done with it.

The most interesting part of these school sports events is that it gives us a rare chance to socialize with the other teachers in our department, since being foreign teachers puts us in an awkward place in the school structure - not quite integrated with the foreign relations department, and not quite integrated with the foreign language department. We have our own office, just for the five of us foreign teachers, and we don't really get a chance to see any of the Chinese English teachers on a regular basis. The awkwardness of obligatory team sports gives us something to talk about. We met a teacher from the PE department who spoke English surprisingly well and told me how interested he was in history (Richy pointed out that PE teachers all over the world seem to have the same interests: history and sports), an English teacher who was apparently good friends with a previous PCV at our school who seemed interested in taking us out to dinner sometime, and two young foreign language teachers at our school who teach Spanish and Arabic respectively (and who at first assumed that I was German - I'm used to being mistaken for Russian, German is a new one). Richy pointed out how interesting it was to have an English conversation with a Chinese girl who kept slipping into Spanish accidentally.

We have also started with a new Chinese tutor two nights a week which is giving us a lot more speaking and conversation practice. Next week, after the Labor Day holiday, we'll start teaching an intensive course to teachers who will be doing visiting scholar programs abroad this summer and next school year. Then we'll be heading off to Wulong for our summer project in July, where the Chongqing 16s (that's the 16th group of China PCVs) will be teaching English teaching methods to a group of more than 300 elementary, middle, and high school teachers. We are also hoping to find some time this summer to do a two-week language intensive in another city before Richy's sister Sara, and her fiancee Tim, come to visit us in August.

Yangtze Riverside - Chongqing, China

2011-04-24T16:40:00.001+08:00

Yangtze Riverside - Chongqing, China, a set on Flickr.

New pictures of Chongqing in the spring.

Stop the Bus

2011-04-07T01:22:00.001+08:00

A few things that have become regular parts of our daily existence in China are extremely spicy foods and long bus rides. Unfortunately, sometimes these elements are combined and make for a disastrous combination, especially for the colon. [Warning: the contents of this blog posting may be unsuitable for sensitive individuals, those currently consuming food or those who wish to believe that visiting China someday will be an experience without occasional intestinal distress.]

Finishing up a weekends' trip to Yibin to visit friends, Richy and I headed to the bus station to pick up our tickets back to Chongqing. Our bus still wouldn't be leaving for about an hour, and since the trip is usually about 4 hours (give or take depending on traffic) we decided we'd better get something to eat beforehand to avoid the overpriced and questionable cleanliness of the pit stop snack stands. The only restaurant nearby was a typically small, family-run restaurant serving noodles and local dishes. We sat down and looked over the menu, noticing that they had a dish we often enjoyed in Chengdu, but rarely, if ever, see in Chongqing: hongyou chaoshou (red oil dumplings). Slightly spicy and slightly sweet, the red oil provides a nice contrast to the pork and green onions in the dumplings. What a pleasant coincidence that this restaurant would have them! The son/grandson of the women working the fully-exposed kitchen took our order and walked away.

To our disappointment, he soon returned, "Jintian meiyou." They didn't have any that day. Back to the menu. All of it was in hanzi (Chinese characters) and although we can recognize several dishes, the majority of the items on the menu were a mystery and we have a constant fear of accidentally ordering parts of animals we are not fond of eating (as has happened on occasion). I recognize niu rou mian (beef noodles) which, although it's not my favorite, tends to be relatively mildly spicy and edible. Richy orders the local specialty, dandan mian (spicy noodles with peanuts). When my order arrives, it confirms what I have begun to suspect about food in Yibin - it tends to be much spicier than the already quite spicy Sichuan-style fare in Chongqing and Chengdu. Gristly chunks of beef were floating in a totally opaque red broth, with puddles of bright orange chili oil collecting in the folds of the noodles. I took a deep breath and dug in. Although I have come to enjoy spicy food to a certain extent, in some cases, especially these types of noodle joints, you might as well be seasoning your food with pepper spray. Add a kick of hua jiao (Sichuan peppercorn) and your lips will be tingling (and burning!) for at least a half an hour to boot. I can understand adding a little kick to spice up a dish, but at a certain point, you can't even taste what you're eating anymore. It's all texture and sensation.

I finished most of my noodles, but had to leave the beef (almost all gristle) and broth behind. We quickly paid the bill (about $1.50 for the two of us). The heartburn started kicking in almost immediately, and I started looking for a milk tea or peanut milk to wash it down, which usually kills the burn. I bought an overpriced bottled milk tea (almost $1) from the elementary school-aged child manning the bus station snack counter and we hopped on our bus.

The driver was flying unusually fast down the highway, blaring his horn and aggressively passing other motorists. We were seated in the back of the bus per our assigned seats, so our passive-aggressive protests in English and Mandarin fell on the deaf ears of the noticeably-less annoyed passengers around us. Finally the traffic got heavier and he slowed down, giving us some time to sink back in our seats and have a bit of a nap. By the time we got to the customary halfway point pit stop two hours into the ride, my stomach was starting to churn and gurgle a bit, but when I used the restroom there was no urgency and things seemed to be generally operating as normal in my bowels.

Back on the bus, I drank a few more swigs of my milk tea and settled in for part two of our bus nap. After about 40 minutes, just as the traffic was starting to thicken to a crawl, I woke up in a distinctive cold sweat. The gurgling had intensified and I could feel a slight burning sensation in my bowels. The line of tail lights up the hill in the distance was not a promising sign. I began mentally preparing myself for a long wait for a restroom. I tried to focus on the scenery, but the sky was beginning to darken and the windows were foggy from the outside, making it hard to distract myself. The entertainment selection on the TV screen was a manic Chinese variety show with a distinctive, rapid, zoom-in, zoom-out, zoom-in, zoom-out cinematography style that did nothing to quell my discomfort.

As 10, 20, then 30 minutes passed, my ability to keep my thoughts distracted from my bowels waned. Memories of childhood "incidents" began to flood my mind: wetting my pants as the flower girl my cousin's wedding - age 5; vomiting on the table after one too many ice creams at Old Country Buffet - age 10; puking on the school bus after over-indulging on the poorly-executed fruits of my labors from ethnic foods class - age 15. I was starting to imagine how I would remember the time I soiled myself on a Chinese bus - age 27. I informed Richy of my predicament and began to plan. "Richy, I may need to ask them to stop the bus. You need to make sure they won't leave me behind." and "Do you think we could just have them let us off in the next town and we can find another bus from there?" Richy shot me worried looks, and asked me if I was sure I couldn't hold it until Chongqing. I was taking deep breaths, squeezing the seat cushion as I endured waves of cramps from my bowels. I had goosebumps and chills, I could feel the sweat starting to bead in my hairline.

Finally, when we reached a toll booth about 30 kilometers from Chongqing, about an hour after I first awoke in my dreaded condition, I knew I had to act because I didn't think I could hold it in through another 40 minutes or so of traffic. I grabbed my purse and ran to the front of the bus to present my case in questionable grammar and diction:

"Fuwuyuan, wo you laduzi. Zhende li hai." (Attendant, I have diarrhea. Really serious.)
"Shenme? Laduzi ma?" (What? Diarrhea?)
"Dui. Wo xuyao yong cesuo. Wo keyi paobu." (Yeah, I need to use the toilet. I can run.)

The attendant shoots the bus driver a worried glance. The bus driver mumbles something about foreigners and pulls the bus over near the restroom.

The attendant tells me, "Kuai yidiar!" (Quickly!) and I manage to respond with, "Duibuqi, duibuqi, bu hao yisi!" (Sorry, sorry, how embarrassing!) as I jump out of the bus and run to the restroom.

In the bathroom, I bypassed a long line of middle aged women and jumped into the next available stall. I didn't have time to apologize. As I fumbled with my belt and my jeans, I could hear them mumble something about foreigners.

(I'll spare you the details of the following five minutes - it was not pleasant, but I imagine much more so than if it had happened in the back of a bus).

Upon returning to the bus in which 36 pairs of eyes, no doubt curious as to why their long bus journey had been suddenly halted, had just watched me bolt out of the bus and into the women's restroom on the side of the highway, I felt a surge of relief. I knew they would have been much more annoyed with the stench of a foreigner who can't handle the spice in the back of the bus. Still, I hear them mumbling something about foreigners.

For the rest of the ride, I sat more comfortably, but exhausted, and curious about the long term effects of ingesting (and holding) the Chinese culinary equivalent of pepper spray in my guts for those hours.

Moral of the story: even if you have learned to be capable of consuming the very spiciest of foods, it is most certainly not a good idea before a four hour bus ride. Although I hate to waste food, I probably would have done myself a favor by just pushing that bowl away or if I had simply swallowed my pride and told them "bu yao la jiao" (don't want chili pepper) when I had ordered it in the first place.

~ Katie

Pass the Salt!

2011-03-17T21:58:00.002+08:00

I hear that people back home are buying up all supplies of potassium
iodide in case small amounts of radiation blow over to the US. In
similar panic-induced, illogical behavior, rumors have been going
around in China that if the seas are contaminated with radiation, that
salt production will stop. Never mind that most salt comes from mines, or
inland salt wells, not from the sea, or that even if the seas around here did
become radioactive, salt would probably not be the most important
thing to worry about. But if you've ever tasted a real Chinese dish in
China, you know that salt is considered pretty essential (along with
the oil, and the MSG, and if you're in Sichuan or Chongqing, the hua
jiao/la jiao combo).

Richy and I took a walk to the nearby E-ling park today to get some
exercise and see some blue sky on an usually clear day. We had a rare
horizon to horizon view of the city with virtually no fog. It was
peaceful. On the way home, we stopped at our local Yonghui grocery
store for some peanut butter. The store is usually packed and chaotic,
especially on the weekends, but today, instead of the crowds milling
through the aisles, they were strangely lined up from the back of the
store (where the spices and oil are shelved) all the way out the front
door. Essentially a wall of people had been built between the deli and
the produce section. The women and old ladies were a little aggressive
about their spots in line when we tried to pass through them for
regular browsing, and the grocery staff was flustered trying to keep
everyone orderly. Some people had whole empty baskets and carts as if
they were going to fill them with salt packages. I went ahead and
looked at the produce to see if there were any cheap apples (holding
back a little tear at the sight of imported Washington state apples
selling for more than 12 kuai/jin - that's $2/pound, whereas normal
Chinese apples are less than 1/2 that price), while Richy stood and
watched the line for a while, confirming that they were, in fact,
lining up like that just to buy some extra salt. They were.

The funny thing about it, is that people are causing a salt shortage
simply by freaking out about it. The salt shortage becomes a
self-fulfilling rumor. Despite the governments best efforts to assuage
fears, people do what people do: panic.

I can understand that watching the news about Japan gets your
adrenaline going. Watching people lose everything makes you think,
"What can I do? What should I be doing? Can I help someone? How can I
keep horrible stuff from happening to me?" When someone says "Buy
salt!" or "Buy potassium iodide!" it makes sense, it fulfills that
human need to do something. It's tangible, and when you get to the
store and there's a huge line, it makes sense to line up too.
Unfortunately it's not really the kind of thing that will really help
anyone, it just creates a new problem. It seems that the better
courses of action, donating to the Red Cross, preparing an emergency
kit, demanding stronger building codes or going over plans in case of
an earthquake or nuclear wind, don't carry the same kind of emotional
pull as standing in line as a community and enjoying some salt-less
self-pity.

Richy and I made our way to the checkout lines with our peanut butter,
some regular dairy butter and some yogurt. The lines were shorter than
I had ever seen them. Thanks salt shortage.

Restart!

2011-02-27T15:09:00.000+08:00

Still recovering from our journey through Vietnam and southern China, our two week training in Chengdu was another shockingly emotional journey. After the excitement of seeing some of our friends from pre-service training that we hadn't seen in months, we started our first training session by hearing the terrible news from our country director that one of our fellow Chongqing volunteers had died (official Peace Corps statement here). We didn't know him well, but empathized with our fellow volunteers who did, unable to imagine what his family must have been going through. It was also a stark reminder of our own mortality, and how important it is to take care of each other and ourselves during our service. With that dark cloud hanging over the group, we kept up a brisk pace of training sessions, including language, TEFL training, safety and security, and health. Colds started going around, health issues started springing up, and people generally were feeling run down after all the sessions, particularly since many people were arriving at training after keeping intense vacation travel schedules (and it was hard to go to bed at a decent hour when there was so much socializing to be done with all our training pals). But despite it all, some of the sessions were really helpful and got us thinking more critically about how to improve our teaching for the upcoming term and how to create secondary projects that might have a lasting impact in our site communities. It was particularly exciting to have guest speaker Rob Gifford (NPR correspondent and author of China Road) come and talk to the group, and even more exciting when he showed up at the bar that evening to continue his discussions with volunteers. We ended our training with a touching candlelight memorial for Cannon, and after our goodbyes with friends from far flung sites, headed back to Chongqing exhausted, but ready to get back to work.

Our first week of classes started right away. I was pleased to be assigned all English-major writing classes, and Richy seemed content with his oral English workload. Starting with our usual introduction lessons, we have been working on streamlining our classroom rules and expectations to avoid some of the pitfalls we ran into last term - such as the several students who freaked out (channeling their frustration into incessant phone calls) when they didn't pass my oral English class, even though they had only attended a fraction of the classes. Luckily I found myself sitting next to the English department head one morning on the bus and he was able to explain to me the English department policies in more detail (we were provided an English translation of the policies at the beginning of the term, but they didn't make much sense at the time). Apparently if students miss more than 1/3 of classes for the term, I shouldn't allow them to take the final, because if I let them take the final, they have the right to a retake the following term. If I don't give them the final, they get a zero and have to retake the class. Although hopefully I won't have that problem with my writing classes this term, as English majors are much more engaged in their English classes (surprise, surprise) and have much fewer problems with attendance.

We are still waiting for word about the on-campus apartment situation, although it seems like something will definitely happen this term. In the meantime, I am planting up every container I can find and fit into our window-cages (our 5th floor apartment features cages around all the windows for security), keeping myself busy with craft projects, reading student papers, daydreaming about secondary projects (my students seem way more excited about cooking club than a resource room or anything else), and trying to keep the construction dust from building up on everything. We are ready to enjoy the Chongqing springtime as we know all too well that the sweltering Chongqing summer is on its way.

~ Katie

Last legs in Vietnam and a Happy New Year Homecoming

2011-02-03T00:25:00.000+08:00

We arrived from a long, suffocating bus ride in Nha Trang 5 hours late due to traffic, only to be met with the disappointment of gray, drizzly skies over a beautiful beach and canceled hotel reservations. We were all running on our last nerves and it took considerable willpower not to freak out at the hotel desk lady who seemed to insinuate that the bus being late was something we could have foreseen or controlled. At last she found us a room for the night, one suspiciously cheaper than the one we originally booked (we later found out she had automatically booked us more expensive air-conditioned rooms the first time, although unnecessary without warm weather).

With the weather uncooperative for beach-side lounging, we decided instead to wander the town and sample its unusually cheap and delicious international food selection, particularly the Indian food and the gelato. On the second day, we decided we needed to take drastic measures in order to find some semblance of vacation-like fun and excitement under the overcast sky. Those drastic measures meant buying tickets from the hotel desk for a theme park situated on an island across the bay. It was a hard core tourist move and one we had hoped to avoid, but one that paid off in a day of hedonistic enjoyment. For about 15 dollars, we took a 3311 meter cable car to an island which has been turned into a resort/amusement park/water park and spent the entire day riding amusement park rides, playing arcade games and splashing around in the water park. Everything but the food was free and unlimited. It was a bit of a harrowing ride back after dark on the cable car as the winds picked up, but we kept ourselves occupied trying to come up with the most horrific disaster scenarios we could think of.

Thankfully we were finally rewarded the next day with beautiful blue skies and sunshine to enjoy the beach with - which we did despite the wind and the sand blowing in our faces. I managed to get myself a hearty sunburn across my back, but otherwise we were able to head off to Saigon proud of our vacation-y accomplishments.

We found Saigon much warmer and more alluring than Hanoi, with its street side iced coffee, expansive markets and interesting historical sites. We visited the Reunification Palace and the War Remnants Museum, which were both interesting contrasts to the Hanoi Hilton prison we visited previously, as they seemed to show the "American War" in a richer context and made more light of the lasting legacy of the conflict for Vietnamese people. We also enjoyed watching Vietnam's largest city prepare for Tet, the Lunar New Year. Yellow flowers and red lanterns were going up everywhere, while women stuffed fried tofu with minced pork in alleyways and men mounted ladders to scrub down the shop signs. On our last day in Saigon before catching our plane back to China, we regretted having to leave the warm weather, amazing food, and sassy shop ladies (who we found had a strange preoccupation with discussing marriage and baby-making) for the grit and grime of China.

But, China had a few tricks left up her sleeve. Even as our plane landed in Chongqing, we were dazzled by the array of New Year fireworks lighting up the night sky, and as we took the shuttle back into the city, we were even more dazzled by the transformation of the city streets. It seems that in our absence, every single tree in the city was covered with electric lights and lanterns and every roundabout became a spectacle of holiday displays. Between the bus stop and home, we bought ourselves some sparklers and firecrackers, and with our backpacks still strapped to our backs, rang in the year of the Rabbit (year of the Cat in Vietnam!) with our own little show in the apartment parking lot. As I sit writing this post, the sky around us on all sides is erupting with flashes, blasts and crackles of fireworks, while the neighborhood car (and motorbike) alarms sound from the vibrations. Xin Nian Kuai Le!

From Hanoi to Hoi An

2011-01-25T17:55:00.000+08:00

On the bus to the border and the train to Hanoi from Lao Cai, we met
up with two 19 year old Danish backpackers who probably out of respect
for our Chinese language skills decided we would be a safe group of
people to hang around. Unfortunately since our language skills
evaporated once we crossed the river we all ended up equally helpless
and exhausted in Hanoi. We showed up at a hostel which advertised dorm
beds for only 4.50 USD, but they charged us twice as much since we
didn't book online and they gave us a terrible exchange rate since we
were paying in Vietnamese Dong. Once Richy and Leo realized this, they
worked up a healthy dose of indignance and went to work on the hotel
desk staff with their Chinese bartering skills. After almost getting
us all kicked out of the hostel, they were finally able to get the
owners on the phone, who agreed that we could pay the online booking
price. The whole incident made walking past the reception desk for the
next three days an awkward experience, but one that saved us a decent
chunk of cash.

Richy and I got to see our third preserved communist leader under
glass, with Uncle Ho looking less dead than Lenin but slightly more
dead than Mao. It's worth mentioning that being put on display for
eternity was expressly against all of their wishes, making it all the
more macabre. We followed it up with a visit to the very interesting
and ultra modern Ho Chi Minh museum - only to get rushed through and
kicked out as the staff took their 1.5 hour lunch break. We're
starting to think Americans might be the only people in the world
without some kind of afternoon siesta, much to our cultural
disadvantage.

We parted with our Danish friends as they went to party it up with the
Australian college students in Halong Bay, a reportedly beautiful
UNESCO World Heritage Site which has apparently become the Cancun of
Asia. We decided we'd rather skip the rainy booze boat parties for yet
warmer weather further south.

After our previous exhausting travel experiences, we decided we could
use some of the money we saved at the hostel to splurge on some soft
sleeper train tickets. When we arrived at the train station, Richy and
Leo went off to find a corkscrew for the bottle of wine they had
bought for the journey while Katie D. and I went to find the train,
which required a bit of a hike around other trains and over several
sets of tracks. Some "friendly" helpers came out of the woodwork to
help us find the train (although we already knew where it was)
obviously wanting tips for their unsolicited assistance. When Richy
and Leo arrived, we locked them out of our cabin as they alternately
banged on the door and pretended to be the train conductor looking for
our tickets. After the train pulled out of the station we were met
with a friendly Swede, a Scotsman and a Dutch kid who we had
previously run into twice back in Kunming. We shared stories, drinking
games, wine and rice "vodka" as the train rattled violently through
the night and into the historic city of Hue.

Although Hue seemed to be a perfectly nice town, the pervasive drizzle
left us feeling less than energetic. In our wanderings around the city
we met a few interesting characters including a former South
Vietnamese soldier, who despite his good English and training can now
only make a living as a farmer since the North won the war. We also
were lucky enough to stumble into a restaurant that we had previously
seen featured on the Globe Trekker series, run by a deaf mute man and
his family. Not only was the food reasonably priced and delicious, but
he also entertained us with his bottle opening antics that he devised
with his own bottle opening invention. After our second meal there, he
gifted each of us with one of his homemade bottle openers as long as
we promised to send him a picture of us using it in our home towns.

After a 3.5 hour bus ride that turned onto 5.5 hour ride due to a flat
tire, we arrived to enjoy the 70 F temperatures and dry overcast skies
of Hoi An. Although the food is delicious, the prices are higher and
portions smaller than in Hanoi and Hue, but we found that even meek
attempts to haggle over prices are usually rewarded with discounts.
One banana pancake seller immediately dropped her price by 50 percent
when we protested paying 10,000 Dong for a pancake.

Most people here assume that because we are Americans, $1 for
something sounds cheap, but after living on China for so many months,
we know exactly how far a dollar should go.

Next we are heading off to the beach town of Nha Trang, hopefully to
finally catch some real sunshine before heading to Saigon and back to
China.

~Katie

Escape from China

2011-01-17T00:33:00.000+08:00

Although Kunming, Yunnan had been billed by our Chinese friends as
"spring city" (where the weather is always like spring!) our very
chilly reception there left us doubtful. The assault was especially
harsh because we had left our winter clothes in Chongqing thinking we
would be finding warmer weather further south, not colder. When
snowflakes began to fall, we were prompted to inquire with the locals
about their so-called spring city. Apparently we were lucky enough to
arrive in the midst of the coldest weather in 50 years.

Needless to say we departed in search of warmer weather as fast as the
Chinese transportation system could carry us. When the bus attendant
started hassling us for 5 kuai extra (on top of the 140 kuai we had
already paid for tickets) we reacted with premature indignance until a
patient Chinese English speaker explained that the extra fee was to
pay for toll detours around snowed out routes.

Upon arriving at the border, we discovered that our original plan of
first heading to the Vietnamese mountain town of Sapa was a dud since
snow was in the forecast and the whole point of our trip was to escape
the cold. So after the sudden shock of not being able to speak the
local language again, we decided to hop the first train to Hanoi (a
bargain for only 104,000 dong/30 kuai/4.50 usd and 8 hours of your
life) with predicted temps in the mid to low 60s.

~ Katie

A New Year in Chongqing

2011-01-05T01:57:00.001+08:00

I have to admit that when we first arrived at our site in Chongqing, I
was really not enamored with the place. Now that we are beginning to
see more of the rest of the country, I am beginning to appreciate
Chongqing more and more.

Take, for example, the grey skies and humidity: keeps me from getting
too homesick from those cloud blanket PNW winters and helps keep my
skin and nasal passages moisturized. Or the constant 45-50 F indoor
temperatures: putting on a few extra layers inside with relative
comfort outside sure beats the frozen toes, ears, and hands every time
we stepped outside in Xi'an last weekend. Of course there is also the
fact that Chongqing is not a particular tourist destination but is
still a large Chinese transit hub: we get all the cool stuff to
ourselves and frequent, relatively cheap trains and buses.

"The above stated facts of the preceding statements lead me to
conclude," (stole that line from my students' final exam essays) that
despite having a lovely new years weekend in Xian, what I am really
looking forward to in 2011 is a new start in our adopted Chinese
hometown. And a nice vacation to Vietnam to enjoy the sunshine and non-
Chinese flavors probably won't hurt either.

~ Katie (written on my ipod while I was crabby, trying to sleep in a top 3rd class bunk on the night train back to Chongqing. The sooner China makes smoking illegal on trains - not just confined to the "smoking area" between the cars - the better for my train moods and sinuses. Xi'an was actually really awesome, but I do find myself looking forward to heading back to my Chongqing home these days.)

Chongqing Christmas Weekend

2010-12-29T13:44:00.001+08:00

At first I thought my students gifted me several apples on our last class before Christmas because I'm a teacher and well, it's a tradition in the West to give teachers apples. After carrying home my elaborately wrapped apples, I did some research and discovered that this was actually a very Chinese custom. You see, in Chinese, Christmas Eve is called Ping An Ye (calm, quiet night), and apples are called ping guo. So the word for apple sounds like the word for Christmas Eve, so people give apples as gifts! Very clever. You can also buy more expensive apples that have been grown with black stickers on them so the characters 平安 (ping an) show up light colored on the peel. Very very clever.

On Ping An Ye, we headed out to Shapingba to get together with friends for pizza and to watch the Chinese Christmas Eve spectacle we had heard so much about from the China 15's (the group of volunteers here who are now in their second year - we are called China 16's). Apparently Chinese college kids get together in the entertainment districts, buy plastic inflatable hammers and bats, glow in the dark accessories, and flashing rabbit ear/Santa Claus/devil horn headbands and proceed to beat each other silly. Foreigners become particularly desirable targets. However, when we arrived there seemed to be more police than holiday revelers, so we shrugged our shoulders and proceeded to stuff ourselves with pizza. As we moved from the pizza buffet to the bar, a few scouts went out to see if there was any inflatable weapon action to be had outside. Apparently not, as the police were confiscating inflatable toys and stomping them on the pavement. Nothing like celebrating Christmas by destroying toys! They had seemingly decided that only the Jiefangbei district in the city center could celebrate "calm, quiet night" with inflatable pandemonium. No matter. We enjoyed hearing stories about last years craziness from a couple of 15's and watching our friends take ultra-spicy "pepper shots" which according to those who tried it, was like drinking shots of alcoholic pepper spray. Only one or two folks were able to stomach it without running to the bathroom to wretch it out. Our friend Chris described it as "an instant ulcer." Not fun to try, but fun to watch others try!

On Christmas Day, we awoke late with our house strangely warm with the heat of three extra sleeping bodies (our apartment averages about 50 F inside these days). After wishing the folks back home a happy Christmas Eve over Skype, we woke our sleeping friends with coffee, hot cocoa, pomelo, and a veggie-sausage scramble. Two more friends arrived, we opened our presents from home, and then headed out to the first of two Christmas parties we were set to attend. Since there were seven of us at this point, we all took a bus across the river, then realized that the postal college was a bit far out of the way and that south of the Yangtze, the bus system was not as familiar to us, so we decided it was time to hop into two cabs. Laden with two pies, I hopped into the first cab, leaving Richy (laden with 4 liters of homemade gingerale) Leo and Katie D. to catch another. 30 minutes into our cab ride, I called Richy to see where they were: still where we left them, as every other cab didn't seem to want to drive three foreigners up a mountain (as sometimes happens here). We arrived to find that everyone had been waiting for us to eat (we were a couple hours late at this point), but it would still be another hour and a half before the Richy, Leo and Katie D. contingent made it. When they finally arrived with the help of some students, we hungrily set in to the lovely spread of spaghetti, penne pesto pasta, real salad (with ranch dressing!), and garlic bread. The highlights were the fresh grated Parmesan cheese, followed by an amazing array of desserts including cookies, pies, sweet steamed bread and real ice cream. I literally haven't been so full since our China going away party.

Our next stop, on the same side of the river, was a party at our friend Kit's, which quickly turned into a strange Santa hat dance party. Santa hats cost only about one kuai here, which is like 14 cents, so somehow we all acquired several from students and other foreign teachers (Richy and I somehow ended up with five). It was a good way to follow up eating ourselves into oblivion, and I am pretty sure I broke even on the calories after about 4 hours of dancing. Needless to say, we slept in the following morning, and somehow found the energy in the afternoon not only to hike down to Chongqing Tiandi (a new billion dollar development at the bottom of the Jialing River bank near our house) but also to head out to Yongchuan (about an hour outside the city) to visit our friend Amy and share our Christmas chocolates with her.

It was an intense weekend, which we're still recovering from, but staying busy was the only way not to get bummed about not being home for Christmas. Now we're looking forward to a trip up to Xi'an next weekend for the New Year weekend!

Happy Holidays!

~Katie

PS.

Here is a link to a recent article in the New York Times about our fair city of Chongqing! If you are planning to visit us here it provides a good tourist perspective on "A Chinese City for Chinese People:"

http://travel.nytimes.com/2010/12/26/travel/26chongqing.html?pagewanted=1

Fall Photo Batch

2010-12-19T19:02:00.003+08:00

Pictures from the Fall. Around Chongqing, over to University City, and out to Yibin. Social gatherings and cultural highlights. The best of the best of my photographs from the Autumn of 2010. Click on the Photos link above, or the Slideshow or Recent Photos boxes to the right. Or here, if you're feeling lazy.

Also, I've set the permissions for all of the pictures with identifiable people in them to friends and family only, so if you want to see any faces, you'll have to sign up for a flickr account and add me as a contact.

Early Christmas - It did snow last night.

2010-12-16T21:47:00.001+08:00

To All,

It seems that Santa came early this year. A package arrived from America today. Quite beat-up but everything in good shape. I quarreled with the idea of a proper wait until the special day between the time Katie called and said there was a package in our office, and when she returned, but, alas, gave in to temptation nonetheless. And thank-goodness because it has been Cold here.

Our poor students have to run around with bottles of plain hot water just to keep their hands warm. I had to resort to wearing gloves today. And though we'd rather not have to contribute to the coal-power air-pollution problem, we have had the Air-Conditioner/Heater on for several hours today. It only takes the nip out of the air and doesn't exactly make it cozy. It snowed for the first time in several years last night, enough to dust the hills around the city and to cause some slush to appear on the windshield of the bus on the way home at 9:00 pm last night. There was quite a buzz in the air as the Chongqing-ren aren't exactly accustomed to such things.

There are a surprising number of Christmas themed decorations around Chongqing. Also an inordinate number of red Santa hats. My students have been doing skits as their final presentations and one of them wasted three of their ten minutes mumbling the few words of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," that they remembered. Another group donned the ubiquitous red Santa cap and took turns break-dancing to "Jingle Bells" for two to three minutes of their presentation, while unveiling, one-by-one, scrawled onto torn notebook paper in red and green ink, "Merry Christmas to Everyone."

All of which is to say that the sight of several packages of hot-chocolate spilling out of the box as I opened it was a quite welcomed surprise. A few of Katie's teacher-students took us to a cafe last night, and we attempted to order Hot-chocolate, but the best they could do was to mix Hershey's syrup in a glass of warm milk. Not exactly bad, and we were resigned to the fact that it was as-good-as-it-gets. Not anymore. In fact, all of the goodies seem to have their place in that box, except for one.

Though we knew from the beginning who wanted that newspaper in the box, it wasn't until Katie opened it up that we got a small glimpse of why it was put in the box. The exact reasons I'm sure will forever remain unknown.

And so, after I opened the box and saw the timely treats, I wondered if I should wait until The Day before opening the other box. But I think I've lost the right sense of time, or the feel for the seasons, because I opened it, too. And so here I sit now, 9 days before Christmas, an electric blanket under me wearing three layers of clothes and still covered with blankets on top, boxes of sweets and treats, a random newspaper, a cup of Hot-chocolate and a charging Kindle strewn on top of our bed. Seems like the right time for Christmas to me.

Thanks, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.

Love,
Katie and Richy.

and p.s.

If you check the weather forecast it may not seem cold enough to warrant the above lament. In fact, the winter here is very similar to back home. As I looked through the average temperatures when I was hearing people complain about the cold winter last summer, I wondered exactly how it could be so cold. Well, the problem is that it's pervasive. There's never any chance to warm up. Nowhere is heated. And so everything is cold. And the only room we can heat is our bedroom, though the tile floors stay frigid, and the loose single paned windows mean it's always drafty. So the only time we're warm, is when we're huddled down in our bed.

堵车, 鸡叫火鸡

2010-11-22T20:38:00.002+08:00

Traffic Jams and Chicken Named Turkey

In a typical week, Richy and I have 11-13 teaching hours and at least 10 hours of commuting time. That doesn't include lesson planning or grading, English Corner, meetings, office hours, or the extra time the commute takes when the city is in the midst of a massive diesel shortage. Our 45-50 minute commute each way has turned into 60-90 minutes, on occasion up to 2 hours. Long lines of cement trucks, long haulers, tractor trailers, cattle trucks and buses clog the roadways around any gas station with a supply of diesel. Many of these stations are near expressway exits, leading the line of vehicles to block major commuter roads. Men directing traffic in orange vests have appeared, and in some cases, traffic cones have been deployed, which eases some of the congestion. All this is little comfort to us who now commute for more hours each week than we teach. For a while, I used the commute to grade papers, but my students complained about their inability to read my jumpy handwriting, and forget about trying to finish my Chinese writing homework. I have a hard enough time writing the characters sitting perfectly still. I have learned to identify which driver is operating the vehicle before I choose my seat. I prefer to sit in the middle of the bus if it's one of the crazy ones, that way if we rear-end someone or get rear-ended I will hopefully be outside the crunch zone. If we have the sane, kindly-faced bus driver (who happens to look like Chow Yun Fat) then I can sit where I please. No matter who is driving the bus however, you can bet we will hit the same pothole everyday on the same overpass, going at least 40 mph. If the driver is crazy enough, we'll be going faster, which launches everyone on the bus 6 inches above their seat for a moment. Despite the roller coaster commute, you can examine the faces of Chinese passengers and drivers alike, and you will find no hint of malice, surprise or even anxiety. Everyone just looks bored, sleepy or as if meditating. The only time you will hear a peep out of our fellow passengers in regard to the driving, is a slight gasp if it seems that were are actually about to crash into something and the drivers brakes have locked up.

Needless to say, we have been very keen on rumors about when the teachers' housing on campus might open up. We had heard that most teachers would be able to move onto campus in the summer/fall of 2011. Although we hadn't mentioned it yet to our foreign relations office, we told our program manager on our site visit that we were interested in moving onto the campus as soon as possible. Considering the fact that we are supposed to start implementing secondary projects next term, we weren't really sure how we were supposed to find the time, wedged into bus seats 10+ hours a week, and living an hour away from the students we are supposed to be supporting and building community with. Our amazing program manager, after the requisite meeting with the school, advocated for us and learned that a few apartments on campus were in fact already available, and that we would be able to go take a look at them this very week. Upon further discussion with our waiban liaison, I discovered that they were not only willing to let us move onto the campus, but to let us keep our city apartment for staying in the city on the weekends! Although it will be a stretch on our budget to furnish a second apartment, we are hoping that eliminating the dreaded commute from our lives will make us more happy, healthy, and most of all, safe from China car accident #2 (if you recall, we experienced China car accident #1 back in July in a Chengdu cab).

On a more positive note, Richy and I successfully hosted a "mini-Thanksgiving" celebration last weekend, which turned out to not be so "mini" since we had 20+ guests (about evenly split between fellow PCVs and Chinese nationals). I pushed myself to the limits of my Chinese-ingredient-fueled American cooking abilities with: a pumpkin pie, a dutch apple pie, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole (I even had to make the french fried onions from scratch), homemade ginger ale, apple walnut stuffing, and a roasted chicken we named "turkey." The chicken was really the most intimidating dish of the lot, considering that I had not yet purchased anything resembling raw animal flesh yet in China, I had never used the rotisserie function on my glorified toaster oven, and had never previously successfully roasted an entire member of the fowl family by myself without under cooking the inside and overcooking the outside. The adventure began when I first spotted the unusually large (by Chinese standards) chickens for sale at the Yonghui Supermarket. They fit all specifications for a western-style roast bird (already dead, plucked, gutted, plump breasts, feet removed) except that the animal still possessed a head. Not wanting to have to carry home an animal that I could still imagine looking at me, I mustered up my Chinese speaking ability (something I am rarely able to do successfully in the chaos of the Chinese supermarket) and spat out the following: "Wo yao na ge ji, keshi wo bu yao ji tou" or "I want that chicken, however I don't want chicken head." Magically, the woman understood me on the first try, grabbed my chicken, lopped off it's head with her cleaver (leaving the neck, but I wasn't about to complain), and proceeded to whisk me to the front of the meat scale line. Chicken purchasing success! I proudly carried my 35 odd pounds of groceries the 15 minute walk home.

Next, I researched several recipes and decided that my chicken deserved the following treatment: a thorough soaking in leftover cola from our Halloween party, a cavity stuffed with tangerines, red onion, garlic, bay leaf and celery greens, a liberal slathering of bacon grease (a good alternative when butter is hard to find), all tied and pinned together tightly with sewing thread and toothpicks (I couldn't find any non-polyester string for a proper binding), and finally stabbed with the rotisserie attachment of my toaster oven. Until the slowly rotating chicken firmed up with cooking, I was convinced that the thread and toothpicks wouldn't hold and my chicken would start flopping around in my oven any moment, but as it began to brown nicely, I was able to relax a bit and finish the mashed potatoes. When the chicken finally came out, it was nicely golden brown, still juicy, and smelled like something that might have been made in America. Richy carved it without a cleaver (neatly, in turkey-like slices), and for the first time in months, many of us ate a whole chunk of chicken without having to pick any shards of bone out! Chicken cooking success!

It was nice to be able to share the meal with our Chinese friends, who especially seemed to like the mashed potatoes, and prove to them that American cooking can be so much better and more interesting that what's on the menu at McDonalds and KFC. We also even got to stand around the table and hold hands and say what we're thankful for, which for me was being able to share the foods I love so much with new friends. It's hard being away from home for the holidays, but with a little bit of effort, I think we can make it worth the sacrifice.

~ Katie

Letters to America

2010-11-07T14:13:00.001+08:00

A couple weeks ago, I asked my three writing classes of about 30 students each to write letters to school kids in America. I have been working with them for weeks on writing stuff with meaning and interest, but I still often got essays on why "college students should not date, but focus more on their studies" in response to narrative prompts about sharing childhood memories or describing how they ended up attending our college. American students don't need a second invitation to write about themselves, but my Chinese students seem to think "why would anyone want to read about me?" and thus commence with writing essays about moralistic topics they think I want to hear about. When I gave them interesting magazine clippings to use as inspiration to write a descriptive piece, many of them began, "the picture shows..." instead of using their imagination to make up a story based on the picture. On a few occasions, however, my students have brought me nearly to tears with amazing stories about growing up in villages with no running water and electricity, about watching a young friend die of cancer, of their parents' punishment for falsifying test scores, and of the challenges of moving away from their close knit families to live in a six bed dorm on a campus of over 18,000 students.

So I was impressed in reading my students' letters to American kids. They were excited at the opportunity to be able to represent their country (they hear that China gets a bad rap over in the states) and tried to dispel some myths. Before having them write the letters, I showed them a video I found on Youtube with a Leno-style sidewalk quiz asking Americans and Chinese people on the streets to identify popular American and Chinese icons. Of course most Americans thought Mao Zedong was Kim Jong Il, and most Chinese people had no idea who Jesus was. The clip was both hilarious and eye opening about how little we really understand about each others' culture. I also shared with them some commonly displayed stereotypes in movies about China: that everyone knows Kung Fu, how people dress, that China is ancient and mysterious, etc. I decided not to put any ideas in their heads about Chinese stereotypes about America, hoping that their own ideas would come through in their writing, and they certainly did. Most of my students began by introducing themselves and their hometowns, moving on to detailed descriptions of local dishes (particularly hot pot) and important festivals (particularly Spring Festival) many of them used the literary conventions I taught them and some moved on into missives about China's peaceful nature and how beautiful it is. Some students even bragged about Chongqing's clean air (I hope they were referring to the countryside?). Many talked about the pros, cons and details of the "one child policy," (sometimes using language not entirely appropriate for use in a classroom), and how not all Chinese people are good at math and know Kung Fu. Some detailed the struggles of being a student in the high-stakes, competitive Chinese education system, and their envy for American high school kids who don't have to attend class well into the evening and on Saturdays.

In expressing their views about America, here were some of the gems:

"America is a rich country which the economy increase fastly. When talking about America, the first sight in my mind is the NBA sports. I like it so much, especially the Huston Rockets. So long as there is a NBA live of Huston Rockets, I will never give up. The NBA sports is a symbolic of sports, it marks strong, enthusiasm, exilent, speed and competitiveness. I am so crazy to like it. Sometime I often image myself a NBA superstar. When having a beautiful behavior in the NBA match, I dream it very much. Watching NBA match for me is not only a hobby but also is a crazy pursuit."

"It's truth that your parents allow you to have a boyfriend or girlfriend even you are only ten years old? What you eat? Only fast food?"

"Sometimes, we really admire your life. Because you can make decision by yourselves after you have grown up. In China, parents always prepare everything for their children, no matter how old are we. Parents still regard us as children in their mind. It's so boring."

"In my mind, America is a modern country and I like the West of America. It's a place full of energy and freedom. By the way, I like American cars, especially Jeep Wrangler. And I know it's legal to have a gun. Does everyone like war in you country? Why do you need a gun? It's cool but dangerous."

"I'm very interested in the sucker in your culture. I watched a lot of movies about it. I know the most famous sucker is called Dracula. It is very powerful and full of energy."

"I know the America's med-term elections is coming. There are many advertisement in television and other medias. But most of them are attack China. I am very disappointed about this. I only want to say China's growing up is not America's threaten."

"Recently, I have seen some classic American films. From these films, I learn that the drug is very common among students. Is it true? Do you everyone has talent on dancing and singing. Do you go to McDonald's everyday? Do you eat sandwiches everyday? Is it true that you don't pay the tuition when you go to the school? Among these films, "mission impossible" is my favorite. Most of my classmate admire Tom Cruise. Is he very popular in America?"

It's a bit disturbing to see the ideas my students get from watching movies about America, but it's also good that they are willing to come out and ask the questions. It puts the crazy questions people ask us sometimes in context. There is so much about daily life in China and America that is hard to convey to someone who has never experienced it firsthand.

~Katie

Hoops?

2010-10-18T22:50:00.001+08:00

We were warned at one of the health sessions during our pre-service training that a major source of PCV injury is playing basketball in China. It's likely that basketball can be a dangerous sport in any country, but there is something about playing basketball in a country where the concept of the "personal bubble" is pure fantasy. Living in such a crowded place, you really can't help but touch people all the time: walking down the sidewalk, standing on the bus, standing in line at the grocery store, wandering through shops in tourist areas, etc. It gets to the point where you forget you even once had a bubble (like starting to forget you once had a car), except when the person in your bubble is holding a lit cigarette, has particularly bad body odor, or seems to be screaming into a cell phone. This inherent lack of a personal space concept leads to particularly rough and rowdy games of basketball.

Basketball seems to hold a certain allure in China. I have a few students who have given themselves English names of "Kobe" "Bryant" or just all out "Kobe Bryant." The letters N-B-A grace all kinds of clothing products (none of which I am sure are actually licensed to use the acronym). There is even a TV reality show dedicated to finding a new Chinese member for the Orlando Magic Dancers (the show is worth watching simply to see the size and muscle tone difference between the American and Chinese dancers - think GI Joe vs. Barbie). Basketball seems to be the ultimate American sport in the Chinese lens, and as such I am expected to be able to discuss details of it at length with some of my more outgoing male students. I usually get as far as saying that I have heard of Kobe Bryant (during his rape allegations scandal) and that my sister played basketball in high school before being met with downtrodden looks of disappointment. We have heard the basketball phenomenon explained in various ways by our Chinese colleagues and students: "China does not have enough water resources to maintain soccer fields so basketball is becoming more popular," "basketball courts require less space than soccer fields," and my favorite, "Asians like small balls, while Americans like big balls" (referring to the difference between ping pong and basketball, of course). But our experience of the Chinese basketball craze did not fully come into focus until we were asked to play for the Foreign Languages Department in the all-school department tournament a few weeks ago.

We are American. We are, on average, taller than most of the other players. Unfortunately these two simple facts do not make up for the speed, agility, aim and knowledge of game play required to actually win games. No matter. Apparently making it out of the court alive and without injury is enough of a victory in this tournament. My department's first game was against the stout and burly women of the mechanics department. I was one of the two star players of the five-woman team simply by virtue of footwear: the other three women on our team were wearing pumps. I tried to make myself look like I was playing basketball by running back and forth around the court and waving my arms wildly in front of anyone on the other team who had the ball. We lost 32-4.

Richy's first game was a little more competitive, but unfortunately I was not present to witness it. They lost by only one point, and apparently Richy was the only one on the team interested in playing defense. His second and final game (which I did witness) was against the security department, and in that case, they lost by a considerably larger margin. The men seemed in high spirits despite their losses - apparently last year there were head injuries and stitches, so a simple defeat by points is a kind of victory.

As for our second womens' game, we played the mathematics department. This time, one of my teammates got the idea of translating the game strategy for me. People showed up in athletic shoes. I was told we actually had a chance. We managed to knock the glasses off their star player several times, we played hard defense, and I made our team's solitary basket for a loss of 4-2. Unfortunately our loss was a loss in every sense, as our team captain ended up hobbling off the court with a groin sprain. We have our last game tomorrow afternoon - Foreign Language vs. Information Systems. I hope I can make it off the court alive... Hao Qiu!

~ Katie

Growing Like Weeds

2010-10-08T15:04:00.001+08:00

The building we can see outside our kitchen window has grown more than six floors - from four to almost eleven - in the month or so that we have been living here. By contrast, my basil seedlings have only grown four millimeters. The rate of construction and growth in this city can easily be described as astounding. Apparently we are witnessing the birth of a megalopolis, and I find myself wondering if this is what it would have felt like to live in Seoul in the 1980's. We awake every morning to the sounds of it, we wander around the mazes of scaffolding, and shield ourselves from the sparks and flashes of the welders at work. I picked up a metro map for the city light rail line the other day, expecting to see the route for the one finished subway line, instead I had to search for it amid the ten other lines planned that are already on the map. On my hour-long bus ride to work each day I watch old businesses close and new ones open, old buildings go down as new high rises become steadily filled with residents. It's a bit mind-boggling living in such a place.

Despite the dizzying pace of this city, we are slowly learning to discover peaceful (if not quiet) moments, sometimes on the bus in the misty mornings, watching the skyscrapers turn to mountains and farm fields and back again. Sometimes in a garden on top of a mountain on a weekend afternoon, sometimes, just sitting in our apartment, when the late afternoon sunlight cuts an angle over the high rises and illuminates the dust dancing slowly in the air. We are also finding activities and routines that help bring calm into our days: friendly local restaurants, walks around the campus between classes, and finding places where we can just sit and read or watch everything pass by. Of course, we have to make compromises. Silence and privacy are two Western values we simply must learn to live without most of the time. I am trying to master the image of hammers and cement mixers as crickets...

This last week China celebrated October 1st, their national holiday. Unfortunately we missed the parades on TV and the fireworks displays, but we made good use of our time off with a visit to one of the main tourist attractions in Chongqing, Ciqikou, and a three day trip to visit friends in Yibin, Sichuan. Ciqikou reminded me of a state fair set with an ancient Chinese backdrop, with amazing snack foods, lots of trinkets for sale and even carnival games and rides. Of course, how often do you get to visit a 1,600 year old temple in the middle of a state fair? Our mistake was going during the holiday, which meant we had to ride a wave of human bodies throughout, but if you get over the whole personal space thing and avoid getting pick-pocketed, it can be kind of fun in a way. Yibin was sleepy by comparison, but that was fine since the main attraction was reuniting with some of our friends from pre-service training. It feels good to let off steam and spend a few days laughing and comparing notes.

The weather has been amazing lately, with the last of the heat giving way to occasional drizzle and highs in the low 70's. The air doesn't seem to singe the lungs quite as much and I think if we have just a few more gorgeous, comfortable days China just might win me over.

- Katie

PS. Over 3,000 page views! Of course, our blog is almost 5 years old now, but it's motivating to know that people read it.

The Boiling Bus

2010-09-20T19:55:00.001+08:00

After a continuation of our utility misadventures over the weekend, an interesting "Brazilian" style buffet experience (it was delicious, I just don't think it was in any way Brazilian), and a full day of teaching on Sunday, we started off our Monday looking forward to Wednesday, Thursday and Friday off and getting our school bus cards (finally!). The previous week, our waiban liaison (person in the foreign affairs office responsible for dealing with us) informed us that we were to attend a Monday morning meeting at 9:30 to take care of some administrative stuff (like getting our bus cards, passports returned, etc). By Monday the administrative meeting had turned into an official all-foreigners-at-the-school get together, and by the time we arrived, apparently a Mid-Autumn Festival social event with the school president.

All-the-foreigners-at-the-school of 18,000 some-odd students consists of 5 foreign teachers (Richy and I included) and 3 Korean exchange students, for a total of 8 non-Chinese people wandering around. The meeting was quite pleasant: there were Korean, US and Chinese flags adorning the table, the president gave some little speeches about how much he appreciates us being here away from our families at the mid Autumn festival when people usually go home (no problem, it's not our holiday! Thank us when Thanksgiving and Christmas roll around), we were served tea and snacks, given a short presentation about the meaning and origins of the holiday, and then each given a lovely (and likely expensive) box of moon cakes! We were also invited to what sounds to be a swanky banquet hosted by the mayor of Chongqing for all the foreign teachers in the municipality on the 29th (read: reunion with all our training site pals who are spread about Chongqing)! Our former PCV colleague says last years was a lot of fun.

A little background on the holiday that I can pass on to the folks back home: Mid-Autumn Festival falls on the 15th day of the 8th month in the lunar calendar (hence a mid-autumn festival at the time we usually perceive as the beginning of fall), and is the traditional Chinese celebration of the harvest. It always takes place on a full moon, and therefore one of the activities associated with the holiday is moon watching while eating dense, round, ornate cakes filled with any combination of bean paste, chocolate, egg yolks, lotus seeds, nuts, citrus rinds, apple jelly, etc, etc. The most traditional kind has a golden outer crust with characters for happiness, good luck and prosperity embossed on the top, while inside dark red bean paste and whole egg yolks await (more egg yolks means more good luck). I personally prefer the more non traditional kinds with nuts and chocolate and fruits inside. There is also a story about a mythical couple in ancient times, who were granted a pill that would make them both live forever, but only if they each ate only half. Eating the whole pill would make the eater have to live alone for eternity as an immortal. Apparently when the husband was away, a bad guy threatened the woman (Chang'e is her name) with a knife because he wanted the pill for himself. Instead of handing it over, she ate the whole thing herself and ended up being banished to the moon as an immortal. So apparently that story is part of the reason for paying reverence to the moon this time of year. There are other versions of the story, but this is the version people have told us in this particular part of China.

It should be noted that we are currently in the midst of a heat wave, of the kind Chongqing seems well known for. It is one of the "four furnaces" after all! The past few days have been experienced either drenched in sweat or sitting in front of our new air conditioner (and I had previously thought it came too late in the season to be useful - ha!). So after the meeting, as the day was starting to heat up, I went to go teach my writing class. When I asked the students how their weekend was, to which they usually respond with incoherent mutters, they all resoundingly announced "HOT!" Which gave me quite a chuckle. We conducted class amidst the din of revolving ceiling fans (I think there are 8 in my classroom, and it really does make it hard to hear their shy English). After class, Richy and I met up for lunch, after which Richy went to go catch the 1 pm bus back to campus, while I stayed, planning to teach another writing class in the afternoon. When I entered the foreign teacher's office to drop off some of my things I didn't want to lug up to the fourth floor in the heat, my surprised Chinese counterpart teacher, William asked me why I was still on campus. I told him I had class that afternoon. But hadn't I heard that classes were canceled because of the heat? It was announced last night. Of course, it was announced on the school website in Chinese, and nobody thought to tell us, so no. I might have been upset about it, except that it meant I could go home early and avoid another sweltering two hours of class.

The next school bus wasn't scheduled to leave until 3:30, so the only option was to take the public bus, which usually takes a little longer, but costs the same and thankfully runs more often. Now luckily before we left University Town (the area where all the universities from the city center have been relocated because of cheaper land and the ability of the schools to sell off their high priced parcels at the city center) an enterprising young man asked the bus driver to board for a few minutes to sell us iced beverages out of a bucket. I knew we had an hour ride ahead of us in 100+ F heat and inadequate air conditioning, so I bought a large sports beverage. I don't know how I would have survived the next two and a half hour ordeal with out it. I should have realized there was a problem when I noticed a conspicuously large, blue 50 gallon drum of water strapped into the bus behind the driver (exactly the kind of thing I have been teaching myself not to get too quizzical about here). Tubes came from the drum and into an equally conspicuous large hole in the dashboard. As we got underway, with a full load of passengers, the bus began to make loud screeching noises which no one seemed too alarmed by. As frequent loud noises are the custom in China, I too gave no outward indication of alarm, although I realize in retrospect I probably should have taken a seat further away from the hole in the dashboard. Traveling further, the noise became louder, especially when going up hills. The bus driver suspiciously stopped driving like a typical Chinese bus driver and began cautiously merging to the right and taking it easy on the gas pedal. My attention was increasingly drawn to the steam rising from hole in the dashboard. Midway up a particularly steep hill (and Chongqing is quite a hilly city) the screeching turned to screaming and suddenly the hole in the dashboard erupted in a fountain of steam and boiling water. Luckily I was out of range of the first spurt, and had time to move back before becoming scalded, while the bus driver continued up the hill. Meanwhile the bus geyser boiled more violently, spattering the whole front of the bus with water and coolant and steaming up the windshield. When we finally reached the top of the hill, the bus driver decided we had broken down at that point, and pulled to the side of the expressway. Several passengers rushed to the front (despite the now-subsiding geyser) and interrogated the bus driver about various destinations. Many of them immediately exited and seemed to know where they were going.

I of course knew where we were generally (I could see the roof of a stadium nearby our neighborhood) but had no idea how to get off the expressway safely or how long it would take me to get home, laden with my school bag and boxes of moon cakes in staggering heat. So I stayed on the bus with three other wary passengers as the bus driver argued with someone on the phone and investigated the situation from outside the bus. We were parked in the full sun, and now with the meager air conditioning off in a bus full of radiator steam, I found solace in my large, cold sports beverage. After several minutes I realized that despite my heat-induced fatigue, I needed to whip out my Chinese language skills and figure out what the heck was going on (partly because I could hear the bus driver refer to "the foreigner" in his heated conversation). I asked the only remaining female on the bus where she was going, and in her heat-induced fatigue didn't really seem keen on reconstructing the bad Chinese I was spewing. After a few minutes, she surmised where I was going and got the attention of the bus driver, who was still arguing on the phone. "Ni yao qu Jie Fang Bei ma? Wo bu qu Jie Fang Bei." (You want to go to Jie Fang Bei? I not go to Jie Fang Bei) "Bu, bu yao qu Jie Fang Bei. Wo yao qu Shi You Lu." (No, not want to go to Jie Fang Bei, I want to go to Petroleum Road) "Oh! Keyi!" (Oh! Okay!) And with that he hung up the phone, got back on the bus, grabbed a hidden canister of water from the back of the bus, dumped it in the hole in the dashboard, and again started the engine, to the surprise of the two high school students who had decided to wait outside the bus. They quickly jumped back on the bus as we sped off down the hill. The bus usually goes all the way to Jie Fang Bei, about 30 minutes' drive further than my stop. I guess he didn't think he could make it there, but I'm glad he could make it to Petroleum Road.

Zui Jin Zenmeyang?

2010-09-15T22:45:00.001+08:00

How's it going lately? It's been up and down. I'll take you on an episodic breakdown of our lives in the past week or so:

Up: Last week marked our second week of class. We were pleased to have a light schedule and things starting to settle down in the apartment. We realized that the cupboard was full of cookies, crackers and noodles and if we didn't figure out the vegetable shopping situation we'd be suffering carbohydrate overload. The supermarkets here are convenient, but the produce is a little frightening and often features cockroaches scattering when you move the fruit around. I set out to brave one of the crowded fruit and vegetable stands down a nearby alleyway. The produce is tantalizingly fresh and well cared for, but also surrounded by a harried mob of Chinese shoppers. I pushed my way in, observing the pandemonium from above (I'm tall in China!) and found that people were grabbing large plastic baskets from a pile and filling them with vegetables. I grabbed a basket and started poking around the offerings. I realized that the section of the crowd nearest the scale was actually some kind of line. So after I filled my basket with somewhat familiar vegetable items: carrots, green onions, bai cai (aka. bok choi), and eggplant. Then I pushed and shoved my way toward the scale. As I approached, I realized there was a technique to getting your stuff on the scale: hold your hand over the vegetables already on the scale, and when the other produce gets shoved into the bag, plop down your stuff before anyone else can! Which is what I did after a couple tries. I only had to ask the vendor to repeat the price once! I felt quite proud of myself as we settled down to our first real home cooked dinner of stir fried veggies and rice.

Down: Wednesday was a bit stressful as Richy learned via email that morning that a new three hour listening and speaking class had been added to his schedule - to be taught that very afternoon! So much for having a day off together in the middle of the week. After we called some folks in our department to figure out exactly what was going on (the original email didn't even include a room number), we found out that a Chinese English teacher had resigned the previous week and that Richy had been assigned his class. Richy was able to scrape enough material together to keep the class occupied for three hours. Way to keep us on our toes China!

Up: The weekend gave us an opportunity to get together with other PCV pals in the Jie Fang Bei area for an evening of beers, snacks and chats. But not before we got to take a four and a half hour self-guided walking tour of the city! We walked all the way from our house in Da Ping, along the Yangtze River (where we saw the brown-water-braving members of the Yangtze River Winter Swimming Club out for a little afternoon dip) and up the countless flights of stairs to Jie Fang Bei and the oddly pirate-themed "historic" area of Hong Ya Dong. We also entertained our first overnight visitor in our apartment, which forced me to actually straighten up the apartment as a whole, which made me realize how much progress we've made in making it livable.

Down: Third week of class begins while the two of us are still yet to receive school bus cards (or keys to the foreign teacher's office, but that got straightened out later in the day). For our 50+ minute commute to school on the school-owned bus, it costs 5 kuai each way, which means we have to make sure we have correct change everyday, which also means we spend 10 kuai every day we teach. 10 kuai doesn't sound like much - only $1.48 - but when you're living on 45 kuai a day, it adds up. Apparently it takes the school a long time to process these cards. In the meantime, we seem to be the only teachers paying cash for the bus. We also got to go for our second visa interview, which involved much running around town, waiting for the Korean international students, staring awkwardly into cameras and nodding affirmatively at appropriate times.

Up: Richy and I marked our 11 year relationship at the fanciest non-Chinese restaurant in town: Pizza Hut. Beer and pizza just really hits the spot sometimes, even if it involves "cheddar sauce" (tastes like boxed macaroni sauce) and warm Tsingtao over ice. We splurged and took a cab, then went out and bought peanut butter at Wal-mart and had ice cream at KFC. Oh the romance of it all...

Down: We had been planning an attempt at a culinary feat for days - butternut squash ravioli. After several trips to nearby supermarkets, we discovered that Parmesan cheese is easier to come by in Chengdu than in Chongqing. So we decided we could settle for mozzarella. After several evening attempts at buying won-ton wrappers for the ravioli, we discovered it is something that must be purchased in the morning. Finally, after deciding we would go for browned butter and garlic sauce instead of alfredo, steaming and mashing our butternut squash, and procuring some early morning fresh Chinese pasta product, we discovered our building's gas had been temporarily shut off. No boiling water for us! We dined on peanut butter and jelly instead.

I wonder what twists and turns tomorrow will bring!

Kidnapped... in a good way?

2010-09-06T22:12:00.002+08:00

So something I have discovered about living and traveling in foreign countries is the constant danger of the friendly kidnapping. This typically involves limited language skills on the part of both parties, an awkward sense of obligation, and some type of vehicle, but the defining characteristic is that there is no way out until your captors decide to release you. If you don't count outings with the host family (which I don't, but sometimes fall within the same bounds of awkward situations that you have absolutely no way out of) we had our first friendly kidnapping in China on Sunday.

It began with a general plan to go to Metro at some point this weekend: a Costco-like German-run box store rumored to carry such delicacies as cheddar cheese, real coffee and oven-like appliances. Saturday ended up being one of those days where it was difficult to get out of the house. We slept in, cleaned, organized, and procrastinated in the apartment, and finally only ended up out of the house in the evening to forage for food. So Metro had to happen on Sunday. Another slow-ish day, but we were both in showering/dressing mode by about 10:30 am. At that point, as I was still running around the house in my underwear (Richy still showering), the phone rang. Earlier this week I had received a call from the same number, which ended up in fact being my first phone conversation in Chinese. At that time, I surmised that the woman on the other end of the phone was a friend of my Jiejie in Chengdu, who had been summoned to help us out with settling into Chongqing. I told her that I had to work during the week and that I didn't need anything, and she said she'd call back on Friday. Apparently she was busy on Friday and decided to call me back on Sunday at 10:30 am. Again she only spoke in Mandarin, thankfully slow, thankfully basic. I told her we planned to go to Metro (called Mai-de-long in Chinese) she then asked me "shenme shi hou" (when?) I told her we planned to leave the house around 11:00am and return at around 3:00pm. She said she wanted to take us out to eat. I said okay. She asked me my address. I told her my address. I assumed we were going to meet at or after 3:00pm. The conversation ended with a cheery "Zai Jian" (see you later) on both sides. I was smug, feeling like I just had my second successful phone conversation in Chinese. Yay!

Two minutes later, while I was still in a state of undress, the phone rang again. She said she was at the end of my street and what building did I live in? What? "Shen zai ma" (right now)? Oh crap. My smugness was immediately replaced with panic. I called to Richy (in the shower) that we were having a change of plans, that I misunderstood and that she was coming to the apartment right now. I threw on my clothes and ran down to the street to find her (I don't have the language skills, even in English to explain where the entrance to my building is). I looked down the street and found a frantic-looking Chinese woman in a purple dress clutching a cell phone just as mine rang. I followed her, answered the phone and sure enough it was her. I invited her up to the apartment, knowing that she might be horrified by the mess, but thinking that I didn't really want to organize ourselves on the street. Richy was still in the shower after all. Up in the apartment, she kept making phone calls, saying something about meeting with some friends who spoke English, and we waited for Richy to dry and dress.

When Richy was ready we went back down to the street and got into her car (the point at which we released control and became kidnapped), a red Ford Focus bedecked on the interior with all manner of Hello Kitty and Minnie Mouse paraphernalia. We assumed she must have a child (which we later discovered not to be the case). She whisked us off to Yang Jia Ping, which is the nearby entertainment district and general mall-like area where we met up with a couple at a small clothing boutique trying clothes on their adorable, pigtailed, three year old little girl. Indeed, one of them spoke English and we quickly surmised that he had just spent a month living with a host family near Seattle. What a coincidence! It was nice, if not a little bizarre, to be suddenly standing there chatting in totally fluent English with someone who knew about our part of the world. Once the outfits were picked out and purchased, he asked us if we would like to have hotpot for lunch. In honesty, hot pot is a little hard on the guts and we had never tried it for lunch before. We cautiously agreed. They took us to a fancy hotpot place in the nearby Paradise Walk mall and were relieved to find individual hotpot burners for each diner. This meant that if anyone ordered duck blood, pig brain, cow stomach, duck intestine, or any other such internal organs we could have a better chance of avoiding it. We even got to tone down the spice in our individual pots in anticipation of not knowing when we would next have unlimited toilet time.

The hotpot was delicious, with a full bar of condiments and pleasant company to share the meal with. I felt like we had made some new, solid friends who were not affiliated in any way with our work at the university. We exchanged phone numbers and they invited us to their house in October when relatives from America would be visiting them. Next, my thoughts turned back to Metro - would we still be going there? It hadn't been mentioned since our first phone conversation. It was already past 2:00pm. We didn't know what to do other than follow Jiejie's friend (her name is Lei Lu) back to her car. We asked her where she lived, trying to politely surmise where we were going. She told us that she lived right by the Metro and that she would be taking us there. I kind of hoped she would just drop us off so we wouldn't have to expose her to our slow and tedious methods of shopping. Of course she considered it her responsibility to escort us, and to try to make our shopping experience as efficient as possible. She asked us what items we were looking for, and although we mostly wanted to browse in awe at all the occidental goods, she didn't seem to have the patience for it and we didn't want to be ungracious for the lunch (she paid for hotpot) and the ride in her car (especially since we were hoping to bring home a toaster oven with us).

We ended up with cheese, coffee, a toaster oven and a wi-fi router. She seemed dismayed at the wi-fi router for some reason that we could not translate and refused to let us buy it. Outside the store, after a heated telephone conversation with someone that featured the word "wi-fi" several times, she took Richy back into the store and let him buy it after all. Finally she took us home - we thanked her profusely and told her she was a "hen hao ren" (very good person). She told us that we were her friends and that we should call her anytime. We ended up back in our apartment at 3:30pm, feeling kind of dazed and wondering how we had the good fortune to experience such a lovely kidnapping.

- Katie

Back to School

2010-09-03T09:28:00.001+08:00

Only when I went to teach my first class did I realize, "Hey, this means summer is over." This has probably been the most busy, fly-by summer of my life, but I am glad that the 100+ degree days and sweltering humidity are done. Of course, we got a new air conditioner in our bedroom just in time for the cool weather. [Cultural side note: installation workers bring their own slippers to wear in your house, but they seem to think smoking in your bedroom while installing your air conditioner is a-okay.] Day by day, as I clear more and more nooks and crannies of dust and grime, this apartment is feeling more like our place in the world. The more days pass without cockroach sightings, the less I feel inclined to jump at every small movement I see from the corner of my eye.

This week, I taught three Writing II classes to second year English Majors, and next week I will be starting a fourth class, Oral English III which will also be for second year students (or so I hear). My schedule will be filled out in three weeks when the Freshmen get done with their military training. Each class is 90 minutes, which counts as two teaching hours. Since I have mostly writing classes, I am hoping I stay around 12 or so teaching hours a week since the grading takes a lot more time than in Oral English classes, and we're supposed to have time left in the week to study Chinese and work on secondary projects. The students in my first class seemed bright and energetic and I was genuinely impressed with the class monitor's organizational skills, but my other two classes will probably be a little more challenging since they are after lunch and the students seemed put upon to stay awake. Richy is teaching all Oral English classes and so far we discovered that we share one class of students.

Chinese class organization is very different than in the West, as students are grouped at the beginning of their Freshman year by major, then continue through all four years taking all their classes together with the same group of students. Students don't get a say in the specific classes they take as they are determined as a whole group and not individually. Just another example of the concept of collectivism vs. individualism. Each class has a monitor, who helps the teacher take care of administrative tasks and organization - they seem to be the only people at the school who actually know what's going on most of the time (the teachers seem to be the last to be notified about schedule changes and whatnot). Needless to say, the students get to know each other very well, so we don't need to work on a lot of getting to know you activities. Richy has pointed out that in many ways our school life in China seems backward from what we're used to in the States: teachers take the school bus to school, students know what's going on before the teachers, and at least at this point, we seem more concerned with our students' evaluations of us than they do with our evaluations of them. So here we go, beginning our daily grind, planning our weekly lesson sets and working on our Chinese language skills in between.

Transition

2010-08-28T23:35:00.002+08:00

For some reason, moving from Chengdu to Chongqing is proving more
difficult than moving from the US to China was. Perhaps the reason is
that I haven't had to do dishes, cook for myself, or take out the
trash for the past two months. Or maybe because we had been preparing
for our departure for China for over a year, while we didn't really
anticipate our departure for Chongqing to be very climactic. Let me
illustrate the last week of our lives:

Monday, August 23: Last day of classes at SNU. We were anxious about
getting our LPI results, getting ready to say goodbye to host families
and starting to feel nostalgic about our Sichuan Normal University
campus and training group. I came down with the head cold that was
going around. We said goodbye to our teachers and spent the afternoon
wandering around Wenshu temple. When we arrived home to go out to our
last dinner with the host family, I turned the key in the lock just as
someone inside seemed to turn the handle. The lock stopped turning and
we found ourselves unable to get in while our host family found
themselves unable to get out. Since the apartment is on the 4th floor,
I am not sure how they would escape in case of an emergency. A
locksmith was called. Dinner reservations were missed. Richy and I
waited in the stairwell for about an hour. Heated argument ensued
between Jiejie and the locksmith who tried to charge her more than the
price quoted on the phone. I spent the evening post-lockout helping
Yao Ying with an English newspaper project.

Tuesday, August 24: Departure for the fancy four star hotel. We
realized our baggage grew since arriving in China, mostly with
teaching books and Peace Corps issued medical supplies (not including
those we were yet to receive at the hotel). Gege was in a rush to get
to work, so we arrived an hour early to catch the bus so we could wait
in the rain with all our luggage. Luckily another early, enterprising,
host family member found us all shelter in the campus police station.
We were impressed by a huge panda-themed fountain when we pulled into
the hotel parking lot, proximity to the city center (just blocks away)
and an outdoor pool. We found out our LPI scores: Richy and I both
achieved Intermediate-Mid. We were hoping for high, and considering
that two of our similarly skilled classmates ended up with
Intermediate-High led us to believe that inter-rater reliability might
be a factor. Nonetheless, we surpassed the requirement of
Intermediate-Low and can retake the LPI later if we feel like it. We
spent the rest of the evening enjoying the company of our SNU buddies.

Wednesday, August 25: The complimentary breakfast buffet at the hotel
was knockout amazing. Refills of real coffee, bacon, fresh omlettes
and orange juice. Toast, real butter, and fruit trays. Not to mention
a huge selection of Chinese and Japanese breakfast choices (which we
ignored, with the exception of a purple sweet potato for myself). It
motivated me to promise to get up earlier the next day for more coffee
refills. The rest of the day was a long block of orientation
activities and finishing up our training. Again, we spent the evening
enjoying the company of the SNU folks.

Thursday, August 26: The counterparts, liaisons and/or admins from our
Chinese Universities showed up and we spent the morning trying to get
more useful information out of them. We were graciously taken to lunch
by our waiban-liaison-soon-to-be-counterpart, William. The highlights
of the afternoon session were practicing our oath of service, getting
our flu shots and our settlement allowance cash. Being our last night
with the SNU buddies, things got a little rowdy, people previously
not-coupled became coupled, and merriment was had all around.

Friday, August 27th: The day began with another lovely breakfast,
after which, we rushed to dress up in our Zhongguo yifu and get our
butts into seats for swearing in. Since the US Ambassador to China was
out of the country we were sworn "to defend the constitution against
enemies foreign and domestic" by the Charge d'Affaires of the Beijing
Embassy, Robert Goldberg. He was accompanied by the Ambassador to the
Shanghai Expo, and the Consul General of the Chengdu US Consulate.
We got some fancy Shanghai Expo pins and proceeded to take lots of
photos with lots of people. We then went to a luncheon in our honor
where there were speeches to be heard about the importance of the
Peace Corps mission in China. Then we ate, but we were still full from
breakfast. After eating, we rushed back up to our room to change out
of the Zhongguo yifu and finish packing, then to get back downstairs
to check out, say our goodbyes and find a taxi. Since there were 88 of
us trying to find transportation, taxis were hard to come by, so
William found us an unlicensed van to take us to the train station.
Unfortunately since the van was unlicensed, he feared getting ticketed
near the train station, and therefore dropped us off about a mile
away. So we then got to carry our luggage all the way to the train
station. Of course all the Chongqing volunteers were put on the same
train car so space to stow our luggage was scarce and things didn't
get settled until well after the train departed. Upon finally arriving
in our 5th floor apartment (no elevator) at about 7pm with all our
bags, reality hit us: although all we want to do is crawl into bed and
sleep off the events of the day, we have no clean sheets. So we went
on a 3 hour adventure trying to find appropriate sheets, after which
we had to actually put them on the bed, then we both passed out.

Today, Saturday, August 28th: I woke in a panic to the dust, grime,
mold, lack of a teaching schedule, lack of hot water, and lack of food
in our new situation. After an hour spent cleaning just the microwave
I was convinced that the apartment would never be clean, never feel
like home, etc. At which point Richy reminded me that "this is our hut
in Africa." These are our "conditions of hardship" which we have
committed to serve under if necessary. Indeed, with time I'm sure
things will come together and after our second trip to the store I'm
feeling much more confident about how this will turn out. Many Chinese
people deal with much worse. It's also comforting hearing from my SNU
friends today and hearing that they are going through similar
scenarios. Although I did have a little momentary setback this evening
when the first giant cockroach crawled across my hand as I switched on
the bathroom light. I guess we're really in it now.

2010-08-22T21:21:00.000+08:00

Some pictures from our friend Katie D. here, we're featured in the "host family..." and "language group..." sets.

--Richy

Winding Down

2010-08-22T14:05:00.002+08:00

We are about to finish PST - Pre Service Training, otherwise known as
what has been keeping us busy since we arrived in China on June 30th.
We had our LPI (Language Proficiency Interview) yesterday, which was
an anxiety-inducing 25 or so minutes of speaking Chinese with someone
assigned to judge our speaking ability in front of a tape recorder. I
stumbled over my grammar more than usual, but I think I was able to
get my point across: introducing myself, explaining my work
background, asking about class scheduling and giving a short speech I
prepared about cheese (I threw it in when she asked me about my
hobbies - one of them is eating cheese, a substance hard to come by in
the middle of the middle kingdom). We get our results on Tuesday, and
I'm hoping for an Intermediate-Mid or Intermediate-High score, but
we're only required to be as high as Intermediate-Low.
After our LPI, I finally got to pick up the Chinese dress I had made.
It's not a traditional qipao style, but I had it made out of real
traditional style silk. I was supposed to pick it up last week, but as
Chinese dressmakers are unfamiliar with the Western "S" body type (as
they call it) it turned out rather large and sack-like. I had them
take it in, which meant it wasn't ready to wear to the host family
appreciation dinner on Friday, but now it fits me reasonably well and
I can still wear it to swearing in. It's not the knockout,
fits-like-a-glove dress I'd imagined, but it's pretty nice and not bad
for a $38 dress made out of real silk. I'm going to have to try the
qipao thing again over in Chongqing. Richy however had a pretty
amazing Zhongguo yifu (Chinese clothing) experience, and was able to
wear his 100% Italian wool Sun Yatsen suit to the family appreciation
dinner. As the Chinese host families said, he was very "Shuai ge,"
(handsome) and the fit seems perfect on his frame. Photos will be
posted as soon as we acquire a reasonably fast internet connection.
After picking up my dress, we headed over to see some of the tourist
sites over on Jinli Street, which is kind of a redone old-style
neighborhood with lots of snack stalls, overpriced souvenirs and a
Starbucks. Searching for the nearby Tibetan district, we came across
what used to be a Spanish restaurant getting ready to close their
doors. Apparently the wine importing business is more lucrative in
China than the ethnic food restaurant business. They shared with us
(free of charge) some of the best beer and wine we've tasted since we
left the states and we chatted about various foreigner-in-China
experiences. Afterward, we had our first meal of hotpot that did not
include the blood, brain or entrails of any animals, which was quite
enjoyable, followed by the not so enjoyable witnessing of an ambulance
tending to a stabbing victim a block away. It took a few minutes for
Richy and our friend Leo to ascertain that a stabbing had occurred,
after which we quickly hightailed it back to the relative comfort and
safety of the campus.

--Katie

Things to Know...

2010-08-17T21:30:00.002+08:00

There were some things I never had an opportunity to learn about Korean culture, having never lived with a Korean family. I have however, had the opportunity to learn all kinds of interesting tidbits about Chinese culture living with a host family. This being our last week with our host family before setting off on our own I would like to share:

- Americans have a disgusting habit of washing their socks AND underwear with the rest of their clothing. Any self respecting Chinese family knows that socks and underwear should be washed in individual sock or underwear only loads and hung on separate drying racks.
- Bamboo mats and bamboo pillow covers are appropriate bedding choices for summer.
- Showering should always be done at night. Showering in the morning is strange, but acceptable for foreigners if it shortens the evening line for the shower.
- There seems to be some disagreement about this, but some families find it acceptable to pour a glass of beer at dinner for children under 10.
- The preferred way to cut up a chicken for cooking involves hacking it apart with a butcher knife. This maximizes dinnertime activities by allowing diners to nibble around sharp bits of bone. Eating more slowly is good for health.
- Any type of animal bone or unwanted food can be politely placed directly on the table when you decide to discard it.
- Finishing off a plate of food can be insulting to the host, indicating that you want more food. Not eating enough can be insulting to the host, indicating that you don't like their cooking. Guests must endeavor to find the appropriate polite balance.
- Chinese families need not worry about appropriate times to put out the recycling. Any recyclables left on the street side at any time will be collected by roving bands of recycling entrepreneurs.

After coming back from Chongqing, I realized not only how much the above cultural practices have become normal for me, but also how much this little family and apartment has come to feel like home in the last seven weeks. As anxious as I am to get our own place, I know I am going to miss home style Chinese cooking, watching Chinese kids' shows, and not having to do any dishes or take out the trash.

--Katie

Chongqing, Chongqing.

2010-08-12T20:57:00.000+08:00

We’ve spent the past few days wandering around Chongqing (pronounced Chong-ching for those not familiar with pinyin), completing errands, checking out our new place and generally getting ideas about the next two years. To Richy and I, Chongqing has the feel of Seoul and Bangkok combined. The palm trees, heat, grime and elevated train remind us of Bangkok, while the sheer scale, dimensionality, and hyper-dynamic feel of the city remind us of Seoul. All in all, I feel we can be comfortable making our home here. Evidence: for some reason a high of 39 C today (102.2 F) didn’t seem that strange to me. I felt like I was going to melt into the pavement, but I was able to approach the situation with an “I know I can handle this” attitude.

Our apartment building is the only remaining building on what used to be the North Campus of Chongqing University of Science and Technology. Called “Peach Garden Building” on “Petroleum Road,” you can imagine the contradictions embodied in our neighborhood. The building appears to have been built in the 70’s or 80’s and houses teachers from our university and their families. It is surrounded by brand new high-rise apartments and construction sites, where the rest of the campus used to be. Between the high-rises are small, ancient-looking dilapidated homes where peddlers and retirees seem to make their homes and businesses. Since there are no longer any teaching buildings here, we will be commuting 50 minutes to “University Town” on the outskirts of the city, where the new modern campus is located. Teacher residence buildings are being built there, but are not yet complete. Thankfully, we will not be on our own getting to the campus, as a free school bus travels between the teacher’s residences and the new campus several times a day. Apparently if we miss the last bus of the day back to the residence, the school also provides a small teacher’s dorm room on campus where we can stay the night.

Our apartment itself is large by Chinese standards, and certainly huge by Peace Corps standards. It has 3 bedrooms: a master bedroom, a guest room and a study. We also have a large living/dining room and a kitchen, as well as one and a half bathrooms. The half bath toilet apparently leaks, so I’m not sure how much we’ll be using it (it’s not like we really need it anyway). It’s kind of been set up as a cleaning closet, so we’ll probably just go with that. We’re hoping our stove hood gets fixed before we move in, because at this point we can’t get it to turn on. We have cages around all our windows, which I am hoping I can fill with planter boxes of basil, oregano and all manner of salad greens. Disinfecting my store bought salad greens with bleach as the Peace Corps medical office recommends just doesn’t sound very tasty or wholesome to me. One of the former volunteers apparently had a cat (something which is now against the rules) as evidenced by the left behind cat toys, paw prints all over the walls and scratched up leather furniture. Luckily no cat smell! It gives me a good reason to scrub down all the walls and cover the furniture I suppose. At this point, I am just excited to get into our place and get going on this whole living in China thing. That place will feel like home in no time (well, no time in a few weeks).

Tastes Like Noodles

2010-08-08T00:05:00.001+08:00

Oh what a few days it has been. It's been a bit of an emotional roller coaster since we got our site placement, since we're going to be splitting off from so many of the people we've come to know and depend on at our training site. We had what felt like an intensely competitive "language simulation" on Friday, which basically felt like we were on some kind of Try to Survive in China game show. Followed by another "go find your way to this place and answer questions" field trip (on which I was thankfully able to score some occidental culinary herb seeds, which I will hopefully be able to grow), followed by beers with the training sitemates, followed by host family, followed by not enough sleep, more language classes, Chinese banquet simulation, then KTV (Chinese Karaoke), and finally, our very first Sichuan hotpot experience.

Our host family decided that celebrating our site placement was a good opportunity to introduce us to Chengdu style hotpot since Chongqing and Chengdu are in fierce competition for the title of Best Sichuan Hotpot. Chengdu is known for being more oily and Chongqing is known for being more brothy, but also more spicy. This particular eating venue also featured miniature Sichuan opera style performances. The pot looked generally like the ones Richy and I had eaten from for previous cook-your-food-in-broth-meals in Korea and at Beijing Hotpot in Portland, but you could tell that the oil to broth ratio was leaning much more toward the oil and that there were a heck of a lot of hot peppers floating on top. Spiciness is something we have definitely become accustomed to and expect from any decent Sichuanese meal, but we weren't expecting our typically non-offal eating host family to suddenly order duck intestine, cow stomach and cow kidney. What a celebration!

First to come to the table was a rack, kind of what you might expect to hang doll clothes on. But there were no doll clothes on this rack. There were clean, thinly sliced strips of duck intestine, looking very much like slightly pink shiny noodles. Not too terrifying looks-wise. Ge-ge puts one in the pot, pulls it out a few minutes later, dips it in sauce and slurps it like a noodle. Jie-jie asssures me "it does not smell or taste terrible." I followed Ge-ge's example and slurped up my duck intestine, which as long as you don't call it duck intestine, is actually not bad. It tastes just like a noodle, but with a very delicate texture. The next dish was very thinly sliced, and the way Jie-jie refused to tell us what it was, we knew it came from somewhere deep inside an animal. She told us she would tell us after we tried it. Again, she assures us, "it does not smell or taste terrible." We dipped the slightly shiny, pinkish-grey slices into the broth, let them cook, dipped them in oil and ate them. Flavor was not a factor, the texture reminded me of mushrooms, and I found myself thinking, "I am fine not knowing what this is." Apparently it was cow kidney. Next, Ge-ge offered us dark grey, prickly-looking slices that were most definitely not going in my mouth. At this point, I draw the line at things that look hairy. Which apparently means I draw the line at cow stomach. I don't think I would ever order these items for myself, but I feel I've reached a certain cultural turning point knowing that duck intestines taste as inoffensively as egg noodles.

And the winner is...

2010-08-06T18:30:00.001+08:00

… Chongqing! We are pleased to announce that we will be teaching in one of the biggest up-and-coming cities in China. Separated into it's own municipality from Sichuan in 1997, Chongqing municipality has over 30 million residents. The city itself houses only about 10 million, and we will be living near the center of it. Apparently our "Peace Corps experience" will include a 5^th floor, 3 bedroom, 2 story apartment with 2 bathrooms (and a bathtub). This is why Peace Corps China is sometimes referred to as "Posh Corps." I would like to point out however, that this is also one of a handful of Peace Corps China sites where we will be issued a household air filter as a matter of course (can't wait to breathe in that filtered apartment air!). We will also be living in one of China's so-called "three furnaces" which as you could guess, means the summers will be unbearably hot. Consider: we find Chengdu unbearably hot and humid as it is, but there are people visiting here to escape the heat of Chongqing.

Nonetheless, we are pretty excited to finally have a form with which to mould our future plans. We will be working at Chongqing University of Science and Technology where have been told we will be teaching mostly male students. Also many of our students will be majoring in petroleum-related fields. I am hoping the "green curriculum" we have been given by the Peace Corps will be well received. We'll have a much better idea about all this after our site visit next week. In the meantime, we're trying to get our heads around this next phase and preparing ourselves for another stint in one of the mega-urban centers of Asia. Ni Hao Chongqing!

Energy and Enthusiasm

2010-07-31T22:24:00.001+08:00

July 30^th, 2010

The air has felt like a furnace the past two days. We realized it was hot when our host family finally turned on their air conditioner for the first time this season (we've been using the one in our room daily for weeks). Today reached up to 35 degrees Celsius (95 F) with more than 85% humidity. To top it off, last night the power went out at about 2 am because of the power drain from all the air conditioners. We woke up soaked in sweat, feeling the heavy air in our faces. It didn't come back on until about 5 am. The demand simply overloaded the system. Since today has been even hotter, I imagine it could likely happen again tonight. The experience has made me reflect on China's power supply, the growing middle class demand for modern conveniences in China, and how people in the US take such things (modern appliances and an ample power supply) for granted.

Even though our host family is doing very well by Chinese standards, they live without many of the power sucking appliances that we consider everyday parts of life in the US: an oven, a clothes dryer, a dishwasher, a microwave, and a toaster oven for example. Their kitchen consists of a two-burner gas stove (with the ever-present large wok and a steamer on top), a rice cooker, and a small refrigerator (what we would probably consider college dorm size). Their gas stove has an impressive hood with an ingenious oil capture system, where all the oil collects in a funnel shaped clear jar hanging in the center. They have probably four air conditioners in the house, but the only one that has seen any use before yesterday is the one in our bedroom. Other than that, they have cell phones (blackberry-style), a flat screen TV mounted on the wall in the living room, and an oscillating fan near the TV that gets daily use. They also have a small older generation laptop computer, but as far as I can tell, they never use it since their blackberries cover all their connection and information needs. Compared with most American families, I estimate that these folks typically use about ¼ of the household energy (and much less in the countryside where many people don't have even the basics). Of course that's a figure that I just completely pulled out of the air, since we don't have a reliable internet connection to look up any statistics. I think this lifestyle is something to think about when we hear news stories about China surpassing the US in energy use, and the use of coal power and other environmentally damaging methods of power production. They are not eating up more and more power in order to live a luxurious lifestyle. They just want what many in the US would consider less than basic. Even though they are relatively minimalist when it comes to household energy use, the sheer numbers of people here and the energy shortage means that a neighborhood of people choosing to use an air conditioner only on one of the hottest, most unbearable nights of the year causes a power outage. The US has less than a quarter of the people, and until recently, used more energy. It's a realization that I am certainly going to be carrying home with me, and one that is going to shape my energy use decisions for the rest of my time here.

July 31, 2010

Last Thursday, Richy and I had our last round of Japanese encephalitis, rabies, and hepatitis shots, and gave our last bit of input into the process that will decide where we will be serving for the next two years. We will get the final answer on Thursday, August 5^th. The fact that our fate is being decided this week gives me anxious jitters, but I also know that worrying about it is pointless because all we can do is learn to love our site when we get there, wherever it may be.

We finished up model school yesterday, so we can go back to our major focus of learning to speak Chinese next week. I didn't think I'd be looking forward to the four hour language blocks again, but here I am, daydreaming about the grammar structures I might know by next weekend. My vocabulary has been steadily growing each day, and I've been able to grasp some Chinese grammar without mangling it too much, but the 2^nd and 4^th tones still seem to disappear when I string together a sentence. I am also having trouble with the ji, xi, qi, ri, and re initials. All these issues can only be solved by painstaking repetition and correction, and like a child learning to play the violin, no one really wants to hear it until you know what you're doing. All my grammar and vocabulary won't matter a whit if I can't pronounce it in a way that the average Chinese person can understand.

Studying Chinese wouldn't nearly be as much fun if it weren't for the awesome group of ladies that serve as our Language-Culture Facilitators (LCFs) aka: our Chinese teachers. One of my favorites is Hu Laoshi (Miss Hu), who leaves me these gems of encouraging advice in my Trainee Assessment Packet: "You're very great! You speak well and you participation in classroom. You do all things very well, so just still do it! Only more practice the pronunciation on "r" and 2^nd tones in a sentence." Quite possibly the most motivating part is that her English is so much better than my Chinese. I especially love the voices she does in class when she acts out the dialogues. Her "man-at-the-hotel-desk" impersonation is pure comic genius.

I am also anxiously looking forward to Monday's qipao shopping trip. Our LCFs are going to take us out to order traditional Chinese dresses to wear to our swearing in ceremony at the end of August. After today's trip to the Sichuan museum I was fantasizing about my qipao while gazing at antique silk brocade. I am sure there will be nothing even remotely like it in my price range, but it does serve to remind me of why traditional Chinese clothing has such an allure in the first place. Richy wants to see if he can get a Sun Yatsen suit (also known by Westerners as a "Mao suit") for a reasonable sum. Of course the term "reasonable sum" is relative here, where we're probably looking at 200 kuai for a decent tailored outfit, which while translating into only $30, could also translate into 100 between class beverages, 40 spicy lunches, 50 cross-town bus rides, or if you prefer, four and a half days of our Peace Corps China living allowance.

A Giant Buddha and the Weekend of the Chinese Bus

2010-07-28T07:24:00.001+08:00

This last weekend served to acquaint us with the realities of Chinese transportation methods. On Saturday our LCF (Language and Culture Facilitators) scheduled us for a little "field trip." This outing began by being handed a piece of paper with no instructions. Instead the paper had several questions such as "What bus gets you to the train station? Do you have to transfer any buses to get there? Where is the entrance and the exit to the train station?" I hadn't realized this would be that kind of outing. We were then told, "Go to the train station." When we asked "How?" our LCFs just shrugged, told us to answer the questions and shooed us away. Once I realized that we were really being set off on our own, I jumped at the opportunity to be treated like an adult. However, after the first Chinese person looked at us like we were crazy for wanting to take a bus and suggested a taxi, we knew we were not in for an enjoyable Saturday afternoon on the town.

4 kuai (about 75 cents), two buses, a short walk and about an hour later we were confronted with the chaos that is a Chinese transit hub. Hundreds, if not thousands of people were milling about, (some seemingly camped out) and while cabs, bicycles, and busses swirled around. We still had more questions to answer, so we set out to navigate the crowds and make educated guesses about the content of the train timetables. Our classmate Lindsey made the statement, "I hope never to come here again." A statement, which, while I wholeheartedly agree, I cringe to repeat aloud myself since the future undoubtedly holds countless more trips here.

After a hearty meal of dumplings and a well earned room temperature beer near the station, we set out to find a cab that could take us back to the campus. Once we saw the taxi line however, our plans drifted back to the bus. Thanks to traffic on the ring road, the trip back took about two hours, with standing room only. The highlight was when at 4 ½ foot tall Chinese woman sidled up next to me and began fanning her heavily made up face, whapping me in the boob with each pass. It was a small price to pay for the cool breeze she shared with my right armpit.

Field trip lessons learned:

- Always take a cab to and from the train station if possible.

- Personal space really is an illusion in China.

- A beer before a long, crowded city bus ride on a humid day makes life slightly more bearable.

The second Chinese bus installment of our weekend was voluntary, and thankfully featured coach buses that took us to the city of Leshan, which is the home of the largest Buddha statue in the world (ever since the Taliban did us the favor of blowing up the biggest ones in Afghanistan). The bus ride there took 2 hours, and included air conditioning as well as seatbelts (a true luxury in this sea of wild driving habits). When we arrived, we fended off a gang of aggressive cab drivers, and instead opted for a cheap public tour bus that advertised taking us in the direction of the big Buddha. Unfortunately we didn't realize that the bus was taking us to the East Gate of the park, which would cost us about twice as much as if we had made it to the South Gate. Either way, it was probably better that we ended up at the East Gate because we got to see several other sites including the world's largest reclining Buddha. The South Gate approach also would have been disappointing because the paths down to the base of the Buddha were closed because of flooding and torrential rain (but happily these factors also meant that there were no crowds to contend with). The Buddha was actually originally built because a monk got the idea that turning a huge rock face above the river into a Buddha would have a calming effect on the river. Of course since tons of rocks were removed from the cliffs and dropped to the bottom of the river, the Buddha did indeed have a calming effect on the river.

On the way back, we found more traffic, and got to spend three hours on the bus instead of two. Our weekend Chinese bus grand total came to 8 hours. I wonder how long it will be until we can break this prestigious record…

Big Buddha lesson learned:

- Torrential rain can restore personal space in public spaces.

Snacks and Other Ruminations

2010-07-23T13:39:00.001+08:00

Ever had a "Strange Taste Horsebean?" I now can say that I have (and yes, that is the actual translation on the package). How about blueberry flavored potato chips? Richy just had a bag for lunch. Curry flavored yak jerky? Not too different from what I would imagine curry flavored beef jerky would taste like. Every class break is an opportunity to expand our pre-packaged culinary horizons. It helps that we are surrounded by several other curious westerners, so we don't have to shell out the whopping 70 cent price tag to get a taste (we are, after all living on about $7/day). On the slightly less strange and more delicious side, we have also discovered aloe flavored yogurt, pineapple soft serve, crispy sesame ball snacks, and fresh cucumber flavored potato chips (with a slightly tingly menthol-ish after taste). The wonderful thing about the convenience stores on campus is that they hold all manner of curiosities, and we can choose at our pace how much variety we are willing to partake in.

When something mysteriously shows up on the host family table, however, the whole social pressure component comes into play. We want to be gracious guests and polite, and we honestly really do enjoy the vast majority of food that appears on the table. At the same time, we don't want to pretend to like things we hate, so we hopefully won't be fed them again. It's a fine balance to maintain. A few nights ago our host family dared us to try duck neck as an evening snack. It tasted a lot like smoked fish with a lot more bones. Luckily our Chinese vocabulary includes "so-so" and "not horrible." The next day, a dish of slightly strange looking meat showed up on the table with the normal dinner dishes, and I decided to take a small bite before asking what it was so my experience wouldn't be altered by any prejudice. It was a little too chewy to be enjoyable for my tastes and Richy later found out it was pig cheek. At least I know I tried it with a pure mind and didn't decide beforehand that I didn't like it. So far, our host family seems pretty knowledgeable about what foreigners find frightening on the dinner (and breakfast) table. I have heard stories about rabbit heads, duck blood and other such delicacies and I am glad they haven't been wasted on us. For breakfast we are usually served a boiled egg, some deliciously fluffy pork or vegetable filled dumplings, and a hot bowl of thick, purplish rice (and bean?) porridge. The porridge is actually quite good, filling, and seems quite healthy, but I am afraid it might be turning my guts into concrete. I am currently seeking ways to enhance my school day diet with caffeinated beverages, prunes, and any other fast moving vittles I can get my hands on.

The things they are teaching us here...

2010-07-18T14:44:00.001+08:00

July 12th, 2010

Here we are at the beginning of another week in the People's Republic of China. I feel like I am finally getting used to the pace of the language classes, getting to know the people in our training group a little better and learning to function within our new daily routine. Having our breakfast and dinner prepared for us each day still feels strange, and I find myself with extra energy in the evenings which would normally be put to use on cooking and cleaning. Now I make flashcards, go over homework, and try to get as much reading done as I can before I fall asleep. We get authentic practice with our Chinese during the lunch hour, asking prices of dishes and ordering lunch and snacks at the shopping area near the school's south gate. We also make small conversation over the dinner table, alternately in broken Chinese and broken English, since our English-fluent jie-jie is out of town for a while. I imagine if we were doing our own shopping and such that our Chinese would get a little more practical use, but there is something about this sheltered environment that makes it seem more comfortable to try new phrases and grammatical structures knowing that we will still eat and not get ripped off in the process.

I didn't write about it at the time, but I have been going over in my mind the things we learned at our whole group sessions last Friday at Sichuan University, especially regarding the "diarrhea dialogue." This might give the folks back home an idea about what kind of education regarding health and safety we're getting here, rest assured – they are leaving no stone unturned. A wholly unappetizing topic, it seems to be foremost in my mind every time I've taken a drink or bite since. Not that I have had any particularly challenging issues in this area, especially after learning the official definition of diarrhea (at least by Peace Corps standards) is four loose bowel movements or more in a day (and try not to call the medical office until you have more than eight). What really struck me was the vast array of methods one could come to acquire this affliction. There is simply adjusting to new foods and levels of spiciness (luckily I had been working myself up to it with the trips to Lucky Strike and extra spiciness wherever applicable), medications, stress, medical conditions, viral infections, bacterial infections, toxins, and of course parasites! Thankfully the methods of avoidance are ones that Richy and I have discovered (sometimes the hard way) through our travels: eat only hot foods, see your street food get prepared, don't eat at empty restaurants, wash hands, wash and peel fruits and vegetables, don't drink the water, avoidance of too cheap bottled water, and trying to consume as many bland foods as possible when that icky gut feeling starts coming on (I hope those of you who plan to visit us here are taking heed). It is comforting to know that when (not if) it hits, the Peace Corps has provided us with several packets of balanced oral rehydration salts, and a handy recipe for making our own in case we run out or happen to have left home without it.

July 18^th, 2010

Another week of training has passed and although exhausted, I am content that this experience is adequately preparing us for service. Hours and hours a day of language training is beginning to sink in, as I discovered today logging into my lingt.com account, I was able to identify several more terms that eluded me just last week! I still most look forward to our Thursday sessions at Sichuan University (despite getting up at 5:30 to catch the bus at 7:20 that got us there 45 minutes early), which have proven to provide the most practical survival tips and reassure me that all those lessons we learned the hard way in Korea were valid. This week we covered how to avoid unwanted attention and preserving personal space by throwing elbows and making ugly noises and gestures, and how to avoid getting so drunk at Chinese social functions that you can make it home with out needing stitches (now who would need that kind of information?).

Our host family invited us to join them in the evenings this week watching a television show called "Chinese Bridge." Think American Idol meets It's a Small World meets China. In this show, more than 100 foreigners try to show off their skills in Chinese language, singing, and other pop arts while basically making complete fools of themselves, all while dressed in "traditional" attire. For example, the woman from Egypt was dressed in a glitzy Cleopatra outfit, while the Korean woman danced around in her hanbok and several others were wearing kilts, lederhosen and other rarely seen European ensembles. The prize for winning the competition is apparently a round trip plane ticket home and back to China, and a scholarship to continue their Chinese studies. It's quite entertaining, especially since their Chinese performances are generally easy for me to understand, but there is also something unsettling about the way these people are so willing to make themselves into ethnic caricatures for the Chinese audience. Then again, this is probably a function of reality television programming everywhere, although I can't really imagine Americans watching a show where foreigners compete to show how well they speak English.

First Week of Home Stay

2010-07-11T10:40:00.001+08:00

July 11th, 2010

It's been an interesting weekend so far. We walked for a few hours yesterday to get into the center of the city to see some of the tourist sites. First we saw the Anshun Bridge and took some photos. It's in the fancy hotel and foreigner district in town, so things around there were pretty nice and upscale. Then we walked to the Tianfu square, home of the largest statue of Mao Zedong, and several impressive dragon fountains. Tianfu is in the midst of a large shopping district, so we took the opportunity to buy some cell phones. The most interesting event happened when we decided to take a cab home. Luckily we buckled our seatbelt, and our cab driver started off driving like all other Chinese drivers - absolutely crazy. Of course this kind of driving leads to accidents, which is exactly what happened. As another driver was merging into our lane, our driver laid on the horn to indicate he would not make room, the other driver paid no attention, and we ended up scraping their rear bumper. Both drivers stopped in the middle of the road and started screaming at each other. We looked at the amount on the meter, handed the money to the cab driver in the midst of his argument, and hopped over to the bus station that was thankfully nearby. Good thing the Peace Corps doesn't allow us to drive in China, I don't think I could handle it.

July 7^th, 2010

What a difference a few degrees can make in this humidity! Today was a bit cooler, and therefore considerably less exhausting. We had a three and a half hour block of language today, and I think I have solidified how to ask and tell the time. During our lunch hour, we discovered an Internet café (the family only has dial-up which is too slow for my computer patience level) and coffee shop that claims to sell real espresso, which we will test at tomorrow's lunch. Another three delicious meals of Sichuan food made me wonder how long it will be before we start craving western food enough to travel to the city center to partake in some overpriced burritos. At this point, I'm thinking never.

This evening we had a lovely bonding experience with our host family, which started with some light beer drinking over dinner (kids included). After the dishes were cleared, Ge-ge spread out sheets of newspaper and pulled out his calligraphy brushes and paper. He demonstrated his calligraphy skills by writing our Chinese names (An MeiLin and Bei Rui) and writing poetry in Mao-style cursive. He let us have a try at it, and the girls showed off their own developing styles. He even wrote the name of the city with the brush in his teeth! It was one of those genuinely fun and educational experiences, of which I am sure there will be many in the coming months. Afterward, the parents retired upstairs, while I settled in with the girls to watch some cartoons and finish my language homework. Sunny was so sweet in helping me with my pronunciation, and introduced me to all the main characters in the Yang-Yang cartoon. I think she's becoming wo de xiao pengyou (my little friend). We also discovered that we'll be on our own for the weekend, (Jie-Jie will be out of town and Ge-ge will be busy with work) which will give us the perfect opportunity to explore the city on our own. As much as we love our host family, I don't want them to feel that they are required to entertain us all the time. I think if we can see some sights on our own and make it home in one piece they will be relieved and so will we

July 6^th, 2010

Looking back over my last posting after a long day of rigorous study, I can't help but sigh at yesterday's enthusiasm. Things are still going well, but 4 hours a day of hardcore language study is certainly an exhausting endeavor on top of everything else. We left for class this morning at 8 am in the already sweltering humidity, and twenty minutes later arrived for our first session soaked in sweat and craving caffeinated beverages. The day continued on in such a way, with a host family debriefing, our first language session, a tour of the campus, lunch with our teacher, a TEFL training introduction, and finally another 2 hour language session. We arrived back at the host family residence, again soaked in sweat at about 5:45, dug into our third meal of Sichuan-style Chinese food for the day and then commenced with the homework-ing. Wo tai lei! (I'm too tired!)

On a positive note, Ge-ge got us started off right on a marvelous breakfast this morning. The meal began with a steaming hot bowl of soymilk, served with baozi (steamed bread dumplings filled with meat and vegetables), followed by tang-yue, sweet soft boiled dumplings filled with ground sesame and sugar. As much as I love Korean food, this sure beats that first cafeteria breakfast of kimchi, seaweed soup and boiled quail's eggs with beef (a delicious meal in it's own right, but not my idea of breakfast).

July 5^th, 2010

Today we met and moved in with our fabulous host family near Sichuan Normal University. Our host mom (or older sister "Jie-jie") is an English teacher, and speaks English well, which has made communication a breeze, but might make learning Chinese at home a little more challenging. The husband (our "Ge-ge") works in administration at the college. We have two adorable and friendly little girls running around, their daughter Yao Ying, 6, and her cousin "Sunny," 8. Their house is a spacious condo-style apartment on the top floor of a building in a gated community. Each available window seems to have a balcony (including the one in our room), and they have all the modern amenities, with the exception of an oven of course, since baking is not a traditional Chinese cooking mode. They showed us how to make authentic Sichuan-style dumplings (jiao-zi) for dinner and we sat around and made them with the kids. I learned how to crimp each side with three opposing folds to make an s-shape that resembles a swimming fish. Our jie-jie served them up with a spicy oil and vinegar concoction and provided bowls of chopped garlic, chives, ginger, and hot peppers to further season the sauce to our liking. The food here is so good, I think it will be a challenge not to put back on all the weight we lost at home. After dinner, we took a leisurely stroll around the campus and saw all the amenities it has to offer. The community we live in is upscale even by American standards, complete with a gorgeous pool and gates with guards. The pathways were crowded with other families also enjoying their evening strolls and the activity on the sports field rivaled a high school track event. It definitely seems like all our needs can be met between this lovely home and the wide array of shops and restaurants available on the campus. I am ready to settle in for three rigorous months of study!

- By Katie

Update

2010-07-08T13:08:00.000+08:00

Things are going great with the host family, but the Internet is dial
up so it's not so accessible. I'll upload my blog postings with more
details when I get a chance!

Love and hugs!
Katie

Moving Right Along...

2010-07-04T15:59:00.001+08:00

Shengri Kuai Le USA (Happy Birthday USA)! I hope all the folks back home are having a festive holiday. For us, the most exciting thing about today was finally getting our training site and host family assignments! Richy and I found out that will be completing our training at Sichuan Normal University (Main Campus) and living with a host family about 15 minutes walk from campus. Our whole group of about 90 people have been split up among 4 universities in Chengdu to live with host families and complete our language, culture, and teacher training before being placed at our more permanent sites in the fall. What we know about our host family so far is that they are a married couple with a 6 year old daughter and that their hobbies include reading, calligraphy, and table tennis. I am interested to see if they will be willing to help us learn some Chinese writing (assuming we'll have any spare time). We will be meeting them and moving in tomorrow afternoon!

The last few days have been a whirlwind, especially with the jet-lag. We've attended many sessions on language, safety and security, health, Chinese history, TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language), and on Peace Corps administrative details. We've eaten out with our language teacher, been vaccinated against hep A&B, rabies, and Japanese encephalitis (which stung) and passed out in our hotel room in-between. Our daily language classes are starting back at the basics, but it seems to be good review and I think it's really helping improve our tones and pronunciation. The language groups will be re-organized in a few weeks. We have also found out that in the next few months we will be spending a week with another host family at the site which we will be placed at after training (kind of a trial to help us get to know where we will be for the next two years, and what skills we will need there). In a lot of ways it's nice to have so much support and training, but it's also exhausting! I can't wait to get placed in our host families so we can develop daily routines and stop living out of our suitcases.

Made it to Chengdu!

2010-07-01T23:22:00.001+08:00

After a grueling 16 1/2 airplane hours and 9+ airport hours, 40 minutes on a bus and six flights of stairs, WE HAVE FINALLY MADE IT. We are in our hotel in Chengdu, enjoying the air conditioning and getting ready to hit the sheets to prepare for a full day of training tomorrow. We get internet in our room on our laptops and facebook is definitely off-limits until we find a way around it. If you are reading this now, then you know that we have successfully been able to post to our blog via email!

More soon!

By Katie

First Leg: Washington DC

2010-06-29T21:37:00.001+08:00

After a lovely going away BBQ, packing and repacking until we got down to the required weight for our checked luggage, and saying our goodbyes, Richy and I boarded a plane Monday morning for DC. At the security line, we met another volunteer heading to China who had just said goodbye to her folks as well. The flights were short, the transfer went without a hitch, and we arrived in DC heavily laden with luggage. We got a great view of the National Mall from across the Potomac during our cab ride, and found ourselves at our hotel in the charming and historic Georgetown neighborhood.

We met up with some other China volunteers in the hotel lobby and went out to eat, chatting about our experiences and expectations. I'm kind of surprised that Richy and I seem to be about five years older than most of the other volunteers, but it's nice to have previous experience under our belts. After dinner, we hiked out to the Mall in the twilight (and thick humidity) and were elated to find fireflies flashing in the bushes (first time we've ever seen such creatures!). We arrived at the Lincoln Memorial just in time to see the lights turned on, and then walked down the reflecting pool to see the WWII memorial and got a closer look at the Washington Monument. It was so strange and interesting to finally see the structures that I have written essays about! It took us about an hour to make it that far from the hotel and our energy was fading fast, so we got a cab back and tucked in for a nice restful night.

Today we're scheduled to start staging, get introduced to our program and complete all necessary paperwork. I am looking forward to moving from Invitee to Trainee and finally officially getting this Peace Corps thing started!

By Katie

Spring in Portland

2010-04-14T13:09:00.001+08:00

I'm having a hard time comprehending the fact that it's already been almost a year since our recruiter called us and uttered the word "China." Since accepting our nomination and then, our official invitation, we have made what I like to the think of as our own little two person Evergreen program out of preparing for what awaits us there. While Kimmie is at work on weeknights, we have a habit of ordering pizza and trying to decipher the meaning and significance of Chinese films and documentaries. We've attended Mandarin Chinese classes almost every week since last June, and have recently discovered that we can understand each other for almost an entire conversation without speaking English (especially after a drink or two). We have been reading books, studying characters, following news on US-China relations, essentially doing everything we can to beat China into our heads.

I have tentatively decided on a Chinese name for myself, something that I originally didn't want to do. At first I feared losing myself in the wash of another language and didn't want to try to remake myself too much. I was also afraid of appropriating a name in a culture not mine. Now that I have a bit more of a grasp of what my life will be like over there, and a bit of a feel for the language, I realize that I need to create bridges where I can. I'd like to think a name is just another bridge to help people connect with me. In Korea, I realize that with my foreign looks, language, and otherwise strange ways, I made people uncomfortable. It was the students who eventually became the most comfortable and accepting of me that gave me their own version of a Korean name: A-Goo-Lin. Which as sweet as it was for them to try to make my last name sound like a full Korean name, just sounds horrible (especially when screamed at me from down a long concrete hall). I like the surname An because it means "peace" and what surname would be more fitting for a Peace Corps volunteer (also it begins with A)? I have also always had a fondness for the name Mei (in English, Mae, and May, my birth month) which in Chinese can mean beautiful, or plum depending on the character, and is also the first character of the word "meiguoren" which means "American." Finally, I looked for something that might go well with Mei for a first name and found Lin, which means jade and also starts with the same letter as my middle name (plus jade is green, which is my favorite color). So I still need to run it by my Chinese teacher to make sure I haven't combined any words to make a strange euphemism or some other awkwardness, I think I'll try to go by An Mei-Lin in China.

This week, we will picking up and shipping off our labs from what I am hoping will be the very last of our health screenings. This one was for the actual Chinese work visa, and it's always funny to see a relatively pragmatic doctor go over the tedious and unusual health requirements of the Peace Corps and the Chinese government. June 29th, here we come!

By Katie

The Next Adventure?

2009-05-20T01:03:00.001+08:00

We got a call from our Peace Corps recruiter last week that the DC office had requested us to move forward on university teaching positions in China. He told us to talk about it, research it, and get back to him in a few days. We talked it over at length, did some research on positions there and possibilities for placement and despite changing our minds every few hours, decided to go for it.

Next we do the medical checks and the background screenings, and if all goes well we'll be set for departure for our 27 month term of service in June 2010. I'm really looking forward to totally immersing myself and learning Mandarin to complete my goal of being fluent in a foreign language by the time I'm 30.

And some of you better start saving up to come visit us in China!

home again, home again, jiggity jig

2009-03-21T13:59:00.001+08:00

We've been back home since March 3rd, the day before Richy's 25th birthday. We had an awesome time in Mexico and the Southwest US and are looking forward to our next chance for adventure. We made it to Carlsbad Caverns, Roswell, Hoover Dam, Las Vegas and Reno on the way home!

In the meantime we're planting victory gardens and searching out non-exploitative ways to make livings. We're officially Peace Corps nominees now but they won't have positions open for us until spring/summer of 2010. We'll keep people posted.

There might be a cross-country road trip in the works with Korea friends for this fall... lookout midwest and east coast friends!

Just a little update.

2009-02-19T09:00:00.000+08:00

To our pleaseant surprise, we found a lovely place just north of
puerto angel called zipolite. It's a little hippy beach community with
a nicer spot for us to camp for only 10 pesos more than the last place.

We're just basically getting tan, trying to cook authentic Mexican
dishes on the camp stove and relaxing. Probably heading out to Oaxaca
city on Friday for a few days then start the trek back northward.

Love,
Katie y Richy

Mechanical Misadventures and Simple Pleasures

2009-02-14T06:33:00.001+08:00

Despite covering a few hundred kilometers with our drive shaft held in place with nothing more than a whittled stick, duct tape and glued together cardboard, we made it to Manzanillo with enough driving capacity to get directions to four different places which might have the necessary bolt. Of course when we found it, the guy spoke English and didn´t charge us since he didn´t want to break a 200 peso bill. Yo quiero Mexicanos! Other than that, the only mechanical misadventure despite the unpaved roads, unmarked speedbumps and numerous potholes was catching our battery before it nearly bounced out of our car. Glad we invested in that spiral core vibration proof one!

Yesterday we made it finally to the relatively untouristed section of the Pacific Coast of Mexico (thanks to long lingering rumors about drug operations and rip tides). Which is now thankfully occupied by abundant federale forces and the "ecotourism" crowd. We´re still pretty hesitant about going more than ankle deep in the water though. The village of Maruata is a beautiful, warm, relaxing and hammock swinging place where I had the best lobster dinner of my life last night with beer for less than 10 bucks.

We´re planning to head out toward Acapoulco tomorrow and will hopefully find a cheap relaxing beach near there, but not holding our breath after seeing the expensive resort wastelands north of here.

Besos!

Katie (y Richy)

Last Days

2008-10-06T00:19:00.000+08:00

It's been some time since our last update since we haven't had much reliable access to the internet for a while. After leaving Hilvarenbeek we quickly discovered that driving the fastest and most direct route to your destination in Europe costs a lot more than just gas and car rental. Between Luxembourg and Paris we paid over 30 euros in toll fees. After camping for a few days with Kimmie in Paris we decided that our new navigation style would include avoiding toll roads (which were luckily marked on the handy road atlas Kimmie brought us from Powell's in Portland).

We spent too much time driving after an ill-fated night in Tours (which included the most disgusting pizza I think I have ever had in my life), and found ourselves without accommodation in Cap Ferret on the Atlantic coast of France. We ended up camping illegally in a park near some dunes and spent the evening drinking wine and eating boxed tiramisu while nestled in the sand. All in all not a bad evening.

After Luxembourg, Richy and I decided that we wanted to try to hit all the tiny random countries we could. So we spent the next long car day on our way down to Andorra. Turns out that was only useful for the cheap gas (only 1.01 euro a liter) and testing Richy's skills at taking sharp turns on steep hills.

Following a two hour dip into a corner of Spain, we raced to the city of Sete to try to find a place to stay for the night after 10pm. Luckily the guy at the hostel stayed open a little late for us and we were able to get in, although he mysteriously lost 10 euros of ours between Richy's hand and the cash register. Oh well.

We spent the day on Sete relaxing in the sun while Kimmie did laundry, but unfortunately we had some communication problems and made plans to meet at two different beaches. When we finally found each other, we chilled out on some rocks and watched an amazing sunset, followed by what seemed to be an intense sandstorm. To escape, we ducked into the first friendly restaurant and Richy did a lovely job of ordering our meals in French while awkwardly rubbing the sand out of his eyes. We dined on fresh whole fish and potatoes with the most amazing garlic butter ever.

After two nights in Sete we made our way through Italy and Switzerland (yet another big driving day) to Konstanz, Germany on the shores of the Bodensee. Again we arrived after 10, but luckily the college students working the hostel were still up getting drunk and after teasing us for a bit decided to let us have a place to stay. Konstanz was pretty boring since it was too cold for swimming and lake fun, but we had a nice couple of nights to relax before the pandemonium of Oktoberfest.

We then swung by Neuschwanstein (that's the storybook castle that the one in Disneyland is supposedly based on) in Bavaria, and ended up meeting Kimmie's boyfriend and friends at Oktoberfest which involved a lot of beer drinking, broken glass, prost-ing, standing on tables and singing and basically everything you would expect. Luckily it was cheaper and less annoying than we expected. It was basically a good time all around and Richy and I were able to avoid any major hangovers.

Following Oktoberfest, we spent three nights in Prague, which was amazing. We got a chance to see all the great tourist stuff, but I feel like I need to go back for more of the modern attractions. Now we're in the tiny and adorable town of Cesky Kromlov, which seems like it came right out of a picture book.

Tomorrow we head back into Germany to Kimmie's friends' place and after a couple nights it's off to Dusseldorf to catch our plane home! It's so weird to think we'll be home in just a few days...

See you all soon!

By Katie

In Hilvarenbeek, and from the Helsinki Airport

2008-09-20T07:05:00.001+08:00

Here's two updates in one, since I wrote one in the Helsinki airport while we were waiting there:

(Sept. 15th, 2008; Helsinki Airport)

Coming from Russia, Mongolia, China, and South Korea, Finland by comparison seems like the most clean, safe and functional place in the whole world (which actually probably isn't too far from the truth). It makes me contemplate what was going through the minds of my great-grand parents when they left this place (although I know things were much different then... pre-independence and all). The only problem is that everything here is really expensive. But the Finns don't seem to mind. After all, they don't have to worry so much about retirement or what might happen to them financially if they get in a car accident or get cancer. Their tax money ensures that their government will actually take care of all that for them. The hotel we stayed at even offered subsidized vacations for low-income Finns! Add all this to the fact that people get paid by the government to stay home and take care of their kids, income-based traffic fines (because why should poorer people pay a higher percentage of their income for the same traffic violation?), and one of the most progressive and effective penal systems in the world. This is basically my idea of a welfare state utopia - now how do I convince my fellow Americans?

Of course, Finland also has it's share of social ills; not least of which is alcoholism, but it's still a lot better than what we've got going back home. At least in my opinion... and next we're off to the Netherlands which I am sure will provide another illuminating case study in how a country should be run.

(Sept. 20th, 2008; Hilvarenbeek, Netherlands, Noor's parent's house)

After a few days of sleeping on the floor in a shipping container cum student housing apartment in Amsterdam (thanks to Noor's brother) we've found ourselves in the cozy comfort of Hilvarenbeek. Lying only 8 kilometers north of the Belgian border, we were able to ride bikes to a little Belgian village this afternoon to purchase some lovely Trappist ales, and enjoy a real Belgian waffle. You really can't help but fall in love with the combination of the hip, progressive capital of Amsterdam and the lovely, bright green, windmill-dotted and bike friendly countryside of the Netherlands.

Noor's parents live in half of a 180 year old house that used to be owned by the minister of the nearby catholic church (with it's giant, ancient and charming tower) hence it's name "'t Vaticaan." The other half of the house holds Noor's aunt and uncle, as well as their bed and breakfast and huge costume shop. Apparently her family used to put on community plays, and therefore collected a bunch of costumes and props, which they now rent out for parties and plays at nominal costs. We spent about 2 hours today acting like kids, trying on outfits and taking pictures of ourselves. It was a lot of fun and made me wish I had been able to grow up with an awesome costume shop in my house!

Next, we plan to eat our way through Belgium in our spiffy new Mercedes rental car (we asked for a Peugeot, but got this!) to meet up with Kimmie at a campground outside of Paris. We're kind of sick of trains at this point (if you can imagine). But at least our car gets 35-50 mpg, so we can feel a little less crappy about driving, and hopefully save a little money. Trains in Europe are a lot more expensive that the ones in Russia, Mongolia and China!

From HM Hostel 1905 in Moscow:

2008-09-07T23:58:00.000+08:00

After our first days in Irkutsk, we spent three days on Olkhon Island in Lake Baikal at Solnetchnaya Guest House. We stayed in a cozy 3 bed cabin room and were fed three hearty Russian country meals a day. It was really nice and relaxing and the food was delicious. We managed a few dips into the cold lake (+25 years for us!), but it really wasn’t as bad as we had expected it to be. The water was clear and fresh, the sky was sunny and the air was clean and beautiful. I wish we could have hiked to the other side of the island to see the real vastness of the lake, but it was 20 kilometers one way, which we couldn’t really manage on a day hike (and we didn’t want to miss too much of the food). We also had wanted to take a ferry from the island to the north end of the lake and take the train on to Moscow from there, but the summer ferry had stopped running the previous week. I guess that’s one of the downsides of coming after the tourist season.

So we had no choice but to return to Irkutsk, which wasn’t a very pleasant idea since when we had been buying our bus tickets a really sketchy guy had come up and tried to grab stuff out of Bevin’s bag. When she knocked his hand away, we ran across the street and went into a restaurant, only for him to follow us and try it again. It left us with a pretty creepy, unsettled feeling about Irkutsk in general, especially since we had been warned by several people about the apparent dangers of being a tourist in Irkutsk. But we made it back (in a super crowded death trap minibus) and stayed another night without incident, enjoying the benefits of running water and hot showers for another day before our long train trip.

We thought we bought way too much food for the train ride, but when we ran out of decent things to eat after the first 24 hours, it got pretty tedious. The train technically had a dining car, but the guy who ran it acted like any customers trying to buy food were unseemly intruders on his personal universe. So we survived on the kiosk peroshkis, hotdogs and soda for several meals. Not a good diet for a healthy intestinal tract. But we made it to Moscow, where we’ve graduated to street shwarma and microwave street calzones (budget minded as always). We did have a nice pricey meal to commemorate our last travel day with Bevin though.

We had a nice death themed day today, starting with a visit to Lenin’s tomb (much more lifelike, or rather deathlike, than Mao). It was pretty creepy descending into the chilly tomb down a dark black staircase, hushed into silence by humorless guards, greeted by Lenin’s eerily lit face and curiously curled, decrepit hands. After walking by the line of buried Russian leaders (including Stalin) by the Kremlin wall, we took the metro out to Novodevichy Convent and Necropolis. The convent was impressive with its onion domes, intricate murals and old tombs. Then we walked over to the cemetery, which holds some of the most famous Russians in history, including Tolstoy, Gorbachev, Yeltsin, Gogol, and many others, as indicated by the rows upon rows of towering, self-important statues and busts.

If you’re wondering where we stand in relation to the original itinerary, basically we’ve decided to take it slower across Scandinavia, so we’re not planning to meet up with Kimmie until the weekend of the 21st in Paris or thereabouts. Also our plans fell through with Nora because her mom is sick, although we may still stay a night in Hilvarenbeek. Tomorrow night we’re taking a sleeper to St. Petersberg, where we’ll be staying at Cuba Hostel for two nights, then off to Helsinki.

By Katie

On a bus to Lake Baikal

2008-08-31T14:10:00.000+08:00

Mongolia was cold and Ulaanbaator the poorest and most underdeveloped city we've ever seen. It seems that nearly half the city consists of the Mongolian equivalent of a trailer park, substituting a trailer for the original mobile home, the semi-permanent felt yurt, known as the ger. Ulaanbaator was originally known as the city of felt, traditionally being a ger encampment that grew over time to become the largest city in Mongolia. During the communist era, however the Soviet Union pumped money into Mongolia, subsidizing the building of numerous
housing blocks and nearly eliminating the ger from the city. But, with the fall of the Soviet Union, that funding ended and the population was forced to revert to the traditional housing, if they could afford even that. The dirt streets of the city are now littered with homeless children and hypodermic needles, and as the friendly host at our guest house said, "there are some good things and some bad things," about the end of communism and the acceptance of capitalism in Mongolia.

But Mongolia was in a celebratory mood when we were there. It seemed the whole country was high on the olympcs. Mongolia won 4 medals, including 2 gold, making 31st place overall. The night we returned from our outing to the national park was the night of the homecoming of the Olympic medalists. Each gold medalist recieved the equivalent of $1,125,000 in a combination of private donations and government rewards. As our guest house host also told us, hopefully this will symbolize a new beggining for Mongolia and the end of the hardships brought on by the transition from communism.

We left Mongolia wishing that we'd had more time to spend there. It seemed like we were some of the only people who weren't planning on staying for a few weeks or a month. The country is so vast and the land so undeveloped that it takes a long time to get any distance. Thus, though we would have liked to see the unbelievably vast plains of the steppe or the camels wandering the Gobi desert, the furthest we were able to make it away from the city was about 70 kilometers to Terelj national park.Terelj is situated in a mountaious river valley and filled with gers for tourists to stay in. It's supposedly the birthplace of Ghengis Khan, Mongolia's national hero. We stayed for two nights and three days, more than is necessary to appreciate the park. The highlight of our stay was the six hours we spent on stubborn Mongolian horses trying hopelessly to get them to go anywhere faster than we could have gone at a slow walking pace. Or trying not to have them stop and lay down unannounced.

At the moment, we're sitting on a bus to lake Baikal. We left Irkutsk early this morning to go to Olkohn island which is situated approximately half way up the eastern side of the lake.Lake Bailal is the planet's largest fresh water lake, containing 20% of all the fresh water on earth. If all other sources of fresh water were to dissapear tomorrow, the water in lake Bailal would sustain the worlds needs for 40 years. It's nearly a mile deep and it's said that taking a sip from the lake's drinkably clean water adds 5 years
to your life.

And finally, my first impression of Russia: cheap cologne does not adequately conceal the odour caused by never washing one's clothes.

--Richy

On the train from Beijing to Ulaan Baatar

2008-08-21T20:19:00.000+08:00

We just finished our 5 days in China feeling like we're going to have to go back for more someday. There's just so much history, so much culture, and so much to see. I'm glad that we weren't able to get ferry tickets to Tianjin, because our one day in Qingdao was really worth it. There, I feel like we really got to see some of the "real" China before heading to Beijing which had been thoroughly sanitized and mall-ified for the Olympics.

In Qingdao, we stayed at a quaint and well-organized hostel established in an old church on hill and it was surrounded by old crumbling buildings and hutong alleyways. A little further up the hill we found another hostel in an old observatory with an amazing rooftop lounge. The night view of the city was spectacular and we chilled out there for a few hours, enjoying the cool breeze, some (local) Tsingtao beers, and the US vs. China women's volleyball game projected on one of the old observatory domes. The next day we wandered around the city a bit before catching the evening train to Beijing. We got to visit a famous temple and ring the official Olympic mascot bell, as well as take a tour of the Tsingtao brewery.

Upon arriving in Beijing, we were wowed by the strange immaculate cleanliness of the city compared to Seoul and Qingdao. Then it took us a while to find our hostel in the middle of the night because it didn't have a sign. Other than that, Chinese Box hostel was a pretty nice chilled out hostel in the middle of a charming (and relatively sanitized) old hutong neighborhood. We met some interesting folks there and ended up having one long night of alcohol-fueled political conversation (bordering at times on outright argument) between the three of us Greeners, a conservative American libertarian from Detroit and a German college dropout (who claimed to be set to inherit his father's 18 million euros). We all ended on friendly "let's agree to disagree" terms though.

The first day in Beijing, we explored the maze-like grounds of the Forbidden City (which was gigantic and thoroughly overwhelming) and then wandered around for photo ops around Tienanmen square. At one point, I was asked to pose for some photos by a Chinese mother and quickly had my arms filled with an adorable, chubby little Chinese baby. I felt like a politician, but in a cool way. We ended the day with a delicious dinner of Peking duck and pork dumplings.

On the second day, we spend the morning hoofing around for tickets to Ulaan Baatar without much luck (they just told us to come back the next day), so we decided at the last minute to catch a bus out to Mutianu to see the Great Wall. Because we started relatively late, we ended up getting grabbed off the bus by a faux cab driver who offered to take us to the top and back for 50 yuan each (less than $10). It was about the same as the minibus price, so we went for it. We took the cable car up and spent a little over an hour drinking in the view, taking photos and running around. It's pretty much how you expect: really big and awesome. Basically all the old stuff in China totally dwarfs all the old stuff in Korea. Kinda sad that Korea was so poor for so long and then got reduced to rubble only 50 years ago. On the way back down our "cab driver" offered to trade us Bevin for his 10 sisters, but we politely declined (only because we don't have enough money to buy train tickets for his sisters). k-k-k-k-k.

On our final day in Beijing, we did a lot of running around: buying train tickets, seeing Mao Zedong's plasticized dead body (which required running back and forth across the street to check our bags), visiting the snack market alley and nearby mall, hoofing it up to Olympic park to try to score some cheap scalped Olympics tickets (none in groups of three though, so only Bevin ended up attending an event - 800 yuan to see Brazil v. Argentina in the soccer semi-fina), and finally Richy and I went to the night market, took a bike rickshaw ride and photographed Tienanmen square at night. There was definitely enough to do and see to last us a few more days in Beijing, but we have a lot more traveling to do, so we have to keep moving. I am however, relieved to leave behind all the pain in the ass heightened security, which required us to wait in lines everywhere we went and get our bags x-rayed dozens of times during our short stay.

We look forward to arriving in Ulaan Baatar tomorrow afternoon and staying at Oyuna Guesthouse. We're hoping to find a way out into the countryside to do some camping and get back to nature after our long sojourn in urban environments.

by Katie

On the Slow Boat to China...

2008-08-15T15:55:00.001+08:00

Today was a strange day. There are so many mixed emotions about leaving Korea: trepidation about going to a new place, excitement for moving on to new adventures, sadness for leaving behind good friends, happiness to see an old friend again (Bevin), and finally, relief to leave behind all the responsibilities and annoyances that life in Korea entailed for us.

We cleaned out our apartment (with some help from some lovely folks at Banghak Middle School), updated our facebook statuses, christened our journey with some 11am Scuttlebutt microbrews (that Bevin imported for us) and set off for what I hope will be the adventure of our lives. I tried to instill some team mentality for the three of us by buying some matching Buddhist rosary bracelets at the temple in Insadong, but I'll be happy as long as they retain enough sandalwood smell to take the edge off our acrid traveller's BO.

The ferry to China is, as Bevin put it, "like a really ghetto cruise ship." In other words, way above our expectations. I guess as long as we keep our expectations low, our journey will be full of pleasant surprises.

The task for Richy and I now is to stop trying to speak Korean to anyone we interact with who doesn't speak English, and to stop comparing all we see and do to our experiences in Korea. I really hope we don't bore Bevin to death with our constant anecdotes and ruminations on comparative Korean culture and philosophy.

By Katie

Official Katie and Richy Itinerary!

2008-08-10T13:08:00.001+08:00

Here's the plan for our grand adventure. Dates marked with * are estimates only, all travel is by train unless otherwise noted:

8/14/08 Katie, Richy and Bevin Protas will depart on the Weidong ferry from Incheon, Korea to Qingdao, China at 5pm http://www.weidong.co.kr/

8/15/08 arrive in Qingdao at 9:00 am. Wander around. Take a night train to Beijing.

8/16/08 arrive in Beijing and check in to Chinese Box International Hostel for 4 nights http://www.asiarooms.com/china/beijing/chinese_box_hostel.html

8/20/08 depart Beijing for Ulaan Batar, Mongolia

8/21/08 arrive in Ulaan Batar, accommodations TBA

8/24 or 8/25/08 depart Ulaan Batar for Irkutsk, Russia

*8/25 arrive in Irkutsk, Russia and visit sites around Lake Baikal - emergency contact in Irkutsk:
Via Marina Shunina (our Russian friend who teaches in Seoul) "if u need any help or info while u r in Irkutsk, heres the cell phone number of a friend of mine..she speaks english well n ready to help u if u call her while u r in Irkutsk- ************ her names Yulya (Julia in english variant i think^^)"

*8/30 depart Irkutsk for Moscow (3 days on the train)

*9/2 arrive in Moscow

*9/3 or 9/4 depart Moscow for St. Petersburg (around this point we will part with our dear friend Bevin and she will travel on by plane to the Czech Republic and Ireland respectively).

*9/4 arrive in St. Petersburg

*9/6 depart St. Petersberg by ferry for Helsinki, Finland.

*9/6 arrive in Helsinki, Finland

*9/8 depart Helsinki, Finland for Stockholm, Sweden by ferry.

*9/9 arrive in Stockholm

*9/10 depart Stockholm for Copenhagen, Denmark by train.

*9/11 arrive in Copenhagen, Denmark.

*9/12 depart Copenhagen, Denmark for Amsterdam, Netherlands

*9/12 or 9/13 arrive in Amsterdam, possibly meet up with Kimmie, J, Doug, Sara and/or Noor Naaijkens (our friend from the Netherlands)

* 9/14 depart Amsterdam for Hilvarenbeek, Netherlands (Noor's hometown) we plan to spend a few days with Noor and her family while Kimmie and company move on to Belgium and destinations in northwestern France.

*9/18 to 9/28 travel with Noor (probably by her father's car, Richy driving) to meet Kimmie and company somewhere around Paris. At this point, Kimmie will depart from her company (Doug, Sara and J will return to Frankfurt, Germany) and join Noor, Richy, and I for some lovely car touring around western Europe. At some point we'll need to end up back in the Netherlands to take Noor back to Hilvarenbeek and rent a car to continue our travels.

*9/28 arrive in Munich, Germany for Octoberfest. Accommodations are booked, but Kimmie has the info on that.

*10/1 depart Munich for other fun and interesting European destinations.

*10/8 depart Dusseldorf, Germany for Vancouver, BC, Canada at 1:00 pm by plane:
LTU International Airways # 1582
Dusseldorf International (DUS) to Vancouver Intl (YVR)
Departure (DUS): October 8, 1:00 PM CEST (afternoon)
Arrival (YVR): October 8, 2:05 PM PDT (afternoon) What!? It only takes an hour? k-k-k- :P

*10/8 (the longest day of our lives, literally) arrive in Vancouver at 2:05 pm, and depart Vancouver by Greyhound bus or car (if someone wants to pick us up *wink*wink*) for Yelm, Washington USA!!! Our 14 month journey all the way around the Northern hemisphere complete!

9 days

2008-08-05T00:46:00.001+08:00

Went to the pension office today to cash in our retirement. Luckily, we'll be getting back twice as much as we thought we would. The South Korean gov't matches your contributions, so we get around 2,000 instead of the 1,000 we thought we'd get.

We still have to start really packing our things, though we've started sorting things, slightly.

It doesn't seem like we're leaving in practically a week. But we are.

WE'RE FINISHED!!!

2008-08-01T11:54:00.001+08:00

Today was our last day teaching. We're officially finished with our jobs in S.Korea! Now we have 12 days to tie up all of our loose ends and we're off to China and around the world! The days of getting up at 7:00 am are over for the foreseeable future.

But we can't start partying until I get the results from my skin biopsy today at Seoul National University Hospital at 3:30.

--Richy.

The Last (non-camp) Day

2008-07-18T16:08:00.001+08:00

So, we finished our last official day at school today. The day was, for me, fanfareless. The last official day of school for the semester isn't until tomorrow, but as I don't work Saturdays, my stint here ends with no bang. Tomorrow, all of the teachers at my school will be going on a field trip, rafting and having a bbq. But, as I don't work on Saturdays, I wasn't invited.... So today was my last day to see 90% of the people who I've seen on daily for the last year. However, only a couple seemed to care.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, as the more Native Speaker English Teachers they get, the less they can bother about any one. Yet, it seems like maybe there could have been an announcement or some sort of goodbye. Nevertheless, we still do have 2 weeks of summer camp to do, so we're not out of the woods yet. And my friend, Mr. Gu, an older social studies teacher (who specifically asked me why I wasn't coming to the rafting and bbq tomorrow) invited Katie and I to go with him to the countryside before we leave. He was the only person who seemed to care, or realize, that I won't be back next semester.

--Richy

Summer Fun ~ or ~ The Rains Have Come

2008-07-08T22:37:00.001+08:00

As I'm sure you can imagine, the 4th of July wasn't really a big deal here. I tried to get some folks together for a bbq, but no one was really into it considering that it was rainy and overcast. Just like many 4ths of past years' back home, but with a twist: rainy, overcast and effing 85 degrees (95% humidity)! Nonetheless we tried to entertain ourselves with some friends, Korean beer, and a few firecrackers we found down at the stationary shop (right next to the party favors, where they always are).

Humidity. A word I never really understood until I came to Korea. Walking out of air conditioning is like walking into a warm, wet blanket. It's pleasant for a few moments, but as soon as you actually have to do something in it you become miserable (and totally drenched in sweat/condensation). To top it off, while you're drenched in this sweat/condensation mix, you walk into a super air conditioned space and what at first is blessedly refreshing quickly becomes bone chilling (since you're wet and all). So you get this sensation like you're at a spa all day, running between the hot rooms and the ice rooms, only not quite as pleasant and not quite as optional. It makes you feel all clammy all the time. The evenings are pleasant though, and it seems a lot of people come out of the AC to enjoy the gentle evening breezes, but unfortunately the mosquitos (or mogi as they're called here) are ready and waiting to attack. I wish we could have a screened-in porch or something, but alas.

We've only got six weeks left in Korea, and I am already starting to feel a bit nostalgic. I've adapted to Korean culture in a lot of ways and I know it's going to be weird going home. When watching American TV I get totally grossed out when I see someone wear shoes inside or put their shoes up on a chair or something. I'm also afraid that I am going to be awkwardly bowing to people all time. It will also be weird not being noticed and feeling like the center of attention everywhere I go. No more double takes, no more special weigook treatment. It will just be strange to actually be able to sight read everything I see (instead of slowly sounding out each word for practice) and to understand the conversations of everyone around me. Hopefully it will be as interesting going home as it was coming here in the first place, but with less fear and awkwardness.

Let me leave you with this interesting glimpse into the world of strange Korean pop music:

by Katie

Extra Curricular Activities

2008-06-26T20:21:00.001+08:00

When Richy and I made the decision to spend the year living and working in a foreign country, I never really expected to have a lot of downtime on our hands. However, if you're trying to save money and exhausted after a day of bouncing around a classroom trying to keep 35 Korean teenagers who can't understand you engaged, you end up spending a lot of your evenings at home. With the onset of the cold temperatures back in November, Richy downloaded the first season of The Sopranos, and we got in the habit of ordering pizza and curling up on the couch for an episode or two.

Well we just began summer, and tonight we finally finished The Sopranos. 86 episodes, at an hour a piece = 3 and half days of Richy and I sitting on our couch watching the exploits of America's favorite fictional mafia family. Thats almost 1% of our total time in Korea. An interesting and unexpected measure of our time here.

In other news: we are now proud holders of Chinese visas, which makes us feel like we are indeed actually going somewhere in August!

Two More Months Until We Leave Korea

2008-06-15T17:03:00.001+08:00

A Trip to Deokjeokdo

2008-05-22T09:34:00.001+08:00

Two weekends ago, Richy and I planned a trip to the island of Deokjeokdo for my birthday weekend/Buddha's Birthday holiday. We had read up about the island a bit in our Lonely Planet guide and planned on leaving Saturday, after my Friday night birthday party. We ended up not going to bed until around 4 am, so of course we got a bit of a late start on Saturday. We weren't really that worried about it because I had read in the Lonely Planet guide (and I think in some random place online) that the 50 minute passenger ferry from Incheon to Deokjeokdo would run until 7:30pm. So we took our sweet time, and by the time we got to the ferry terminal in Incheon it was about 6:30pm. We knew we were in trouble when we walked through the main doors of the terminal, only to find all the lights off and completely deserted except for one confused security guard. So we grabbed some ferry schedules, got out our travel guide, and sat down to try to figure out both where we went wrong and what our next step should be.

Taking the two hour subway/bus trip back home was kind of out of the question, since it was my birthday and I didn't want to spend four hours of it on the subway for no reason. We decided it might be best for us to head back toward downtown Incheon to try to find a motel and somewhere decent to have dinner. Just as we were trying to figure out what time the ferries actually ran another group of foreigners with backpacks on walk in the door. They looked about as bewildered as we probably did, and they asked us:
"Where are you guys going?"
"We were trying to go to Deokjeokdo."
"Us too. Isn't there a 7:30 ferry?"
"Apparently not."
"But Lonely Planet says they run until 7:30."
"Yeah, we know."

Just then, the security guy brought us over some more ferry schedules and shooed us out as he locked the doors. I think he was afraid he was about to be over run by angry foreigners. So Richy and I got back on the bus headed toward downtown Incheon. We wandered around for a few minutes until we saw the first bright 모텔 (motel) sign. Along the way we spotted a rare Turkish restaurant advertising lamb kebabs and falafel, and made a mental note to come back for dinner. The motel was the ubiquitous Korean-style love motel, which can be rented cheaply by the hour or all night. This one was actually pretty nice, with free ice cream provided in the lobby, a big screen HDTV, and a computer in the room. Not to mention several porn channels and all manner of lotions provided (eeew). The sheets looked clean, but we still used our trusty hostel sheets. After chilling out for a few minutes, we headed off to the Turkish restaurant for something that would seem like a nice birthday dinner despite our less-than-well-planned situation.

The first good sign at the restaurant was that it was full of actual Turkish (or at least Middle-Eastern looking) people. We decided to order the set menu, because at a restaurant we've never been to before, we usually assume it will offer the best sampling of dishes. Unfortunately the dishes came out in a strange order, so by the time we got the bread and rice at the end, we had already eaten most of what it would have gone well with. Overall it was good though, and it's always nice to escape the Korean flavor palette for a meal or two. We finished off with a dessert of ice cream at the Baskin Robbins (strangely found almost everywhere in Korea) and spent the rest of the evening wandering the streets of downtown Incheon. At one point a man and his young daughter played a game of following us for several blocks, all the while daring his daughter to practice her English on us. It was obvious they were following us because we were practically walking in cicles. Kinda creepy, but also kind of cute at the same time.

The next morning, we rose early for a breakfast of MacDonalds (usually the only accessible and affordable Western-style breakfast in town) and took the bus back to the ferry terminal. This time the terminal was very much open, alive and bustling, and we caught the 9:30am ferry to Deokjeokdo. When we bought the tickets, the man behind the counter advised us that the only return ferry open for the next day was not until 5:10pm, which was fine with us because we wanted to spend as much time on the island as we could at that point.

When we got to the island, the only two buses there were waiting by the ferry dock. One of them was crammed full of people, and the other was only half full, but the driver seemed to be refusing to let any foreigners on. So we kind of stood around, trying to figure out how to get to the touristy place with the beach and places to stay, which is the perfect demeanor to have if you want to be approached by someone trying to make some money.

An ajumma (middle-aged Korean woman) approached us and asked us if we wanted to go to the beach. We told her yes, we did, and she motioned for us to get into her van. I asked her "Olmai-ay-yo?" (how much?) and she said "Sa man won" (40,000 won, about $40) which is pretty average for a room for two in Korea. So we looked at the van and deliberated for a moment over whether this woman was going to put us in a really shitty room. We decided that there weren't really any other options and got into the van. It made me feel better that there was one other foreigner in the van and several Korean tourists. The room we were provided was less than ideal, but cozy enough and close to the beach.

After dropping off our stuff and getting a bit settled, we headed for the beach. The beach was nice, sandy, and sunny, but the wind blowing off the water was downright cold. In spite of this fact there were several foreigners sunning themselves on the beach in bikinis. This is a very un-Korean behavior since most Korean women hide from the sun at all costs in an effort to keep their skin white and young-looking. Then we wandered around the town, realizing with each turn that about 85% of all the businesses in the little town were closed for the season and that there was really only one open-looking restaurant with Korean food we were familiar with. We realized that since we hadn't come with a large group of friends, weren't camping on the beach and weren't planning on getting drunk that we probably weren't going to have the best time on this island. There's a fine line between relaxing and boring, and this was definitely more boring than relaxing.

The highlights of our time on the island: eating a few meals at the only welcoming restaurant, finding a few shells on the beach, making a small campfire on the beach, and lighting off a roman candle. Other than that we were just cold and wondering what there was to do. The next day, the woman with the van had disappeared, and around 11:00 a woman kicked us out of our room because she wanted to clean it. We were kind of stranded, with six hours to kill. So we wandered up the beach, tried to find a hiking trail that would lead us back in the direction of the ferry dock, and instead found a dead end. We decided just to hike the 7 kilometers back to dock along the winding, hilly road, on which traffic was very infrequent. It took us about 2 hours. Along the way we had a snack on another beach (this one more geared toward the fishing rather than sunbathing crowd). While we were munching, a little Korean boy, all alone, about 4 or 5 came up to me and told me (in Korean) that he hurt his finger. He had a tiny little scratch, and I showed him my sympathy by giving him a little sucker I had in my purse. Richy asked him (in Korean) where his parents were, and he pointed to a nearby building, and Richy told him to go to his mom, and the boy dutifully obeyed. It always amazes me how independent and trusting of strangers small Korean children are. I think it testifies to both the relative safety of Korea and the fear-mongering we embrace for our children in the West.

We finally came to the ferry dock around 3 pm and spent our last few hours on the island waiting for our ferry, reading our books and eavesdropping on the conversations of other foreigners. As more ferries left, the island seemed to become more and more deserted. On board our sparsely filled ferry, which was the last one of the day, we found cozy seats in the top deck first class area. We were looking forward to going home, a little bit anxious to catch our subway because we knew it would be a long trip and we didn't want to get home too late for work the next morning. Of course, just when we seemed well underway, the ferry abruptly stopped dead in the water and a serious-sounding announcement (only in Korean) came over the loud speaker. The only other group of foreigners on the ferry called over to us to see if we understood the message, and when it was apparent that we didn't, they sent one of theirs down to see if the English-speaking concession worker could translate. She found out that apparently there was something caught in the engine, and it was unclear how long it would take. We waited patiently as a few frustrated crewmen ran back and forth between the main cabin and the engine. After a few minutes, we were underway again, only to stop again, start again, stop again. We finally made it to Incheon around 7:00.

Moral of the story: don't go to a remote Korean island unless you go with a lot of friends and plan on getting drunk the whole time. Or, at least go during the summer so there will be more stuff open.

Seoul Lantern Festival

2008-05-07T16:15:00.001+08:00

In honor of Buddhas birthday, each year S.Korean buddhists parade through the streets of seoul from Korea's main buddhist temple, Jogyesa. Buddha's birthday is determined by the lunar calendar, and the lantern festival is always on the preceding sunday. The parade consists of somewhere near 100,000 buddhists, monks, laypeople, armymen, etc. but the highlight of the parade are the giant and colorful lanterns.

The parade was interesting to see. Unfortunately it rained, and all of the umbrellas presented a problem for viewers. But we made our way forward, and the umbrellas, surprisingly, were actually put away when the rain stopped. I managed to get a few good pictures, but by the time my memory card was full, after about 75,000 of the buddhists had passed, I'd had enough. You can only see so many of the same thing before you start to lose your patience.

On an unrelated note, yesterday marked a pointless but symbolic milestone for us: 100 days until we leave.

Regards,

Richy.

The Eve of the Third Third

2008-04-24T13:43:00.000+08:00

Today marks our eighth month in the Republic of Korea. That's two-thirds of our contract time. What follows is a description of what's currently on our minds, and a description of what we will be doing before our return to the PNW.

This second semester has gone by quite quickly so far, it's already halfway over, and I'm sure that the rest of our time will go by quickly too. Next week students take their mid-term exams, which for us means three days or so of sitting at our desks with no work to do. Not bad, but boring at times. After mid-terms we have eight weeks until the students take their final exams during the first week of July, and the term ends on July 18th. Between the 18th and when we leave, we have to do a three week English camp. This is the most variable factor in our remaining time, we probably won't know much about the camp until late June. Other than that, we might take a weekend our two out of Seoul, and possibly a three day trip to Japan, though that might be to much of a hassle.

We have our departure date set, we'll be leaving Korea on August 15th, a little more than a week before our contract officially finishes on the 24th because of our remaining vacation time. We also know the date we'll be home, on October 9th, as we've already purchased those tickets. The intervening weeks will be spent on a trek westward around the northern hemisphere across Eurasia.

Our tentative plan is to take a ferry from Seoul to China, where we will spend a few days in Beijing. Unfortunately, this coincides with the 2008 Summer Olympics, which probably means we've chosen the absolute worst time imaginable to visit that city since the Tianemen Square Protests of 1989. We've already run into trouble simply trying to find information about trains from Beijing, reservations have been blocked by the Chinese government for some reason, and you can only get tickets three days in advance. Nevertheless, we've booked rooms (at about 5 times the normal rate) and we plan to buy tickets onward to Ulan Bator, Mongolia when we arrive.

We will be taking the Trans-Mongolian branch of the Trans-Siberian railway, the longest railway in the world. From Beijing we will go to Ulan Bator, Mongolia, spending a few days there. Then on to Irkutsk, Russia, near Lake Baikal, the worlds deepest lake, and the largest by volume of water. From Irkutsk, we will likely stop somewhere on the way to Moscow, or else spend the three-and-a-half days on the train. From Moscow we'll head north to St. Petersburg, then cross over into Finland visiting Helsinki. Then a boat to Stockholm, Sweden, and the train again, south into mainland Europe by way of Denmark, spending some time in Copenhagen.

By the second week of September we'll meet Katie's sister Kim somewhere in western Europe, travel around a bit, and finish up in Munich in time for Oktoberfest. Unfortunately, this means starting and ending our journey during some of the biggest festivals in the world, so we're not exactly planning the most cost-efficient route. In any case, we will be leaving from Düsseldorf, Germany on October 8th and flying into Vancouver, B.C. this route saves us some money, but we'll have to take a bus south into the States.

So, between now and August we'll be pretty busy just trying to figure out all of the details for this trip, if nothing else. Researching, arranging visas, purchasing tickets, reserving rooms, and synchronizing schedules is enough to occupy a lot of our free time. But at least we won't be too bored, twiddling our thumbs while watching the second hand on the clock. It's better to be busy so the time goes by faster.

Spring is Springing

2008-04-10T09:38:00.001+08:00

Yes, it's hard to believe how quickly I went from freezing my face off every time I walked outside to spending a whole weekend without my jacket on. Suddenly the memories of the sweltering Korean summer are rushing back to me and I am considering wearing my Thailand clothes to work. On the way to school, I've started noticing bright green buds of leaves forming on all the ginkgo trees and the huge white magnolias are bringing to my attention shrubs I haven't noticed in months. The weather is beautiful, without a doubt.

Richy and I celebrated the beginning of spring by attending the Jinhae Cherry Blossom Festival on Korea's south coast. We spent last Saturday afternoon exploring Busan, and on Sunday we took a bus to nearby Jinhae. Busan kind of reminded me of Portland, Oregon with its combination of ugly industrial waterfront juxtaposed with bourgeois cafes and fancy public parks. We wandered around its fusion-style Chinese and Russian foreigner district, and put our toes in the sand and surf at Haeundai Beach while Korean schoolgirls giggled at us and dared each other to practice their English. We stayed at a sketchy little yeogwan, complete with a bottle of "Man Touch" lotion at the bedside (eeew), glad that we could speak and understand enough Korean to book a room. After breakfast at the nearby Starbucks (they actually had bagels), we asked the tourist desk at Busan Station the best way to get to Jinhae by bus. She sent us to the bus terminal across town, even though I could have sworn I read online about a stop closer to where we were staying. So we went to the terminal and got in a shockingly long line of Koreans waiting for the bus to Jinhae. Luckily they had planned for a glut of passengers and buses to Jinhae seemed to pull up every five minutes, so we were able to get on the third bus.

Jinhae is a very small city, which is known as both the home of the Cherry Blossom Festival and the Korean Navy. It was founded by the Japanese during the occupation of Korea, which explains why the city is laid out in a very neat, orderly way. It also explains all the cherry trees and its use as a military base. Unfortunately, all the original cherry trees were cut down after the Japanese occupation ended in the 1940's, but they were replanted soon afterward and are now protected by law. The cherry blossoms are very apparent as you approach the city because suddenly all the hillsides are covered in huge swaths of white blossoms, and when the wind blows it causes a minor flurry of petals. The central street of town leading up to the main hill and city tower was covered in white tents which housed trinket vendors of all kinds and several soju tents serving up spit-roasted pork and Korean squid pancakes. After running into some friends from Seoul who recommended the pork, Richy and I chose a tent and sat down for lunch. We ordered a beer to share, had some roasted pork and some Korean pancake. Typically this kind of meal in Seoul doesn't cost us more than 20-25,000 won. After our meal, we were shocked to find that we were being charged 38,000 won and didn't have enough cash to pay the bill. So I asked for directions to the nearest ATM and the waitress pointed me to the nearby GS 25 convenience store. Richy stayed behind as collateral. Unfortunately the GS 25 cash machine was out of cash. So I called Richy and told him it might take me a little longer to find money. I asked a nearby traffic cop: "Oon-hang o-dee-iss-oyo? (Where is a bank?)" he replied in English: "Go down that way." So I followed where he pointed me. After walking about 5 blocks, I realized I was at the gate of the military base, no bank in sight. So I walked back to the main roundabout and found a bank in directly the opposite direction of where the traffic cop had pointed me. I ran back and paid the ridiculous price for our lunch. Then, Richy and I decided to walk up the main hill in town and went up the tower to see the view. From there, you could see the bay and all the hills around the town. It was quite nice and the breeze was very refreshing. We took lots of photos. Although it was still early, we walked back down the hill, bought some ice cream and headed back toward the bus station.

When we got back to the bus station, we were soon relieved that we had headed back early because the line of people waiting to get on the bus back to Busan was four times longer than the line heading from Busan to Jinhae. Our train was scheduled to leave from Busan to Seoul at 7:05 pm and we couldn't afford to miss it, but we figured we were okay because it was just after 4:00 and it was only supposed to take an hour on the bus. We ended up getting on our bus around 4:30. The bus then got stuck in traffic, so we didn't get out of Jinhae until almost 5:30. I was getting increasingly nervous. Once we got into Busan at about 6:15, the bus stopped and several people got off, and as soon as we pulled away, we realized that that was the bus stop closer to Busan Station that I had read about online. So now it was 6:20 and we were heading AWAY from the train station. When we finally got to the terminal at 6:30, Richy and I ran to the subway station, and then ran to our transfer station. We got out of the subway at Busan station at 6:55, but still had to go get our bags out of the storage lockers. Again, we ran up the escalators, and down to the tracks, finally boarding our train at 7:04, barely one minute before leaving the station. I spent the next 20 minutes catching my breath and hacking the phlegm out of my lungs. I decided need to work out more.

by Katie

Thailand: a Blow by Blow Account in 4 Phases

2008-03-03T09:50:00.001+08:00

Edit Richy: I have uploaded 257 or so pictures of our trip. These are what I've deemed the most worthy for the purpose of illustrating our trip out of a total of 1000 or so. And these are only the pictures I took, Katie took a few hundred more with the other camera.

...

This was my first trip to Thailand, Richy's second. I was excited to get out of the winter for a while and take a break that would lead my mind away from the daily grind of life and work in Korea.

Phase 1: Arrival in Bangkok

We arrived at our guest house in Bangkok at 3 am after a 6 hour flight that left us pleasantly un-jet-lagged because Seoul and Bangkok only have a 2-hour time difference. The apparent owner of the place, a native English speaker (some manner of British), was wide awake, helpful and welcoming. The next morning we decided to check out the nearby Chatuchak weekend market, one of the biggest outdoor markets in the world. Our walk took us by hundreds of amulet vendors (mostly small Buddha images), which (as I read later) are popular and sometimes expensive spiritual accessories for people in dangerous occupations. Cab drivers especially invest in these to protect them on the roads (lord knows they need it - Thai drivers are even crazier than Korean drivers, which I didn't know was possible). The market itself could only be described as an overwhelming swirl of commerce of all kinds. It was pretty amazing, and although we wandered around there for a few hours that first day, I could only get my head together enough to buy a single pair of earrings. Afterward, we wandered around a nearby park, then took the skytrain to Victory Monument, which lead us on another multi-hour walk toward and around the royal palace. Unfortunately Bangkok's mass transit system is nowhere near as cheap, plentiful and efficient as Seoul's, but walking around seemed more interesting here anyway.

At the palace, we scanned the moat for the abundant and sometimes frightening signs of wildlife. The climax of which was a close encounter with a 4 foot monitor lizard that jumped out of the marigolds and frightened the living daylights out of a young Thai couple walking nearby (they ran away screaming, while we, the tourists, started snapping pictures). We wandered our way down to the tourist district of Khao San Road which was both an interesting and appalling sight. Something about watching white folks having their hair dreaded, beaded and braided into cornrows while wearing traditional Hmong clothing gives me the creeps in that haven't-you-heard-of-cultural-appropriation kind of way. We ate an over-priced and over-rated meal, drank a few beers, watched people get ripped off, and decided we'd had enough walking for the day, so we took a hot pink metered taxi back to the guest house (so nice to see vehicles outside the Korean car color palette of black, white and gray).

The next day we found out our friend Desiree from Seoul (a la Daesungni winter camp) had arrived at the guest house, so we woke her up and made her follow us back to the weekend market for a second, less overwhelmed look. This time we succeeded in doing a little bartering, buying three more pairs of earrings, a skirt, a pair of linen pants, and a linen shirt for Richy. I was probably encouraged a bit by Desiree's no-BS attitude when it comes to shopping. Our shopping ended in a huge, random, torrential downpour of warm rain as we ran for the cover of another neon taxi (luckily we had freshly purchased dry clothes with us in conveniently plastic bags). We decided this would be a good opportunity to go to the train station secure tickets for a night train south to Surat Thani, the jumping off point for some of the most beautiful island beaches in Thailand. We should have known better than to take the third class night train seats when we found out that sleeping cars and air-conditioned second class were sold out. But we were feeling energetic and adventurous, so later that evening we left Desiree behind to find out what 12 hours in third class on a crowded Thai train felt like...

Phase 2: Misadventures in Southeastern Thailand

Waiting for the train itself was a melancholy experience, as it was more than an hour late, and this mood was punctuated by a particularly mournful harmonica player on the platform. When our train finally arrived, it was apparent that our third class car had been built some time in the mid 20th century, probably 1940's or 50's. It had kind of an interesting retro look taken by itself, especially with the mint green interiors and interesting gyrating wire fans installed in the ceiling. However, this charm was lost on the hundreds of people packed like sardines inside, sans air con. We had to keep the windows wide open to breathe, which meant getting a lungful of such wonderful smelling things as thick diesel exhaust, rotten swamp, rotten sewage, rotten garbage, and occasionally a whiff of something edible from one of the station restaurants. All the people aboard wore uniform expressions of boredom and exhaustion for the entire trip, and as the train rolled into jungle, people started spreading newspapers on the floor and crawling under seats to try to find a place to rest their eyes. This became a serious issue of contention for me as I had just finished up reading the section in the guidebook about Thai cultural foot phobias. Apparently stomping on a coin with the king's face on it can have serious social repercussions, as can failing to remove your shoes when entering a culturally-defined no-shoes-zone or inadvertently touching another part of someones body with your foot or a shoe. With all the people on the floor, I spent the whole time super conscious of where I was putting my feet despite the fact that no one seemed to be paying any attention to me whatsoever.

Richy and I spent the night packed onto a hard, straight-backed bench with a third person, spending the entire night shifting positions every 15 minutes to try to find something relatively comfortable. This effort proved relatively futile, but provided a good activity with which to while away the 12 hour ride. My only consolation was the following mantra: warm white sand, warm white sand, warm white sand...

Upon reaching Surat Thani we found ourselves immediately surrounded by bus ticket hawkers, taxi and tuk-tuk drivers. My head was screaming and all I wanted to do was sleep, so the first guy to grab us was pretty effective at shoving us onto a random bus and making us buy a ticket. Luckily it was going to where we were headed and included a ferry transfer. About four hours later we were getting off a ferry in Thong Sala, the main port town of Ko Phan Ngyan, the island we had been hoping to get to. From here we had planned to meet with our friend Kitho on a somewhat secluded beach called Haad Yuan, so we made arrangements to take a taxi truck to Haad Rin (the big party beach of the island, and way over-developed) and from there, a long tail boat to Haad Yuan. We had been totally confident about being able to find a place to stay on that beach, if not at the same bungalows that Kitho was staying at. Unfortunately, we arrived at the bungalows to find that not only were they full, but they figured that every other guest house and bungalow on that beach was full too. So we sighed a big, long, weary sigh, the kind you only seem to be able to muster when you haven't slept in nearing 30 hours, and let the guy at the guest house lead us to Kitho ("Oh you mean the Korean guy who sleeps all the time? Yeah, room 15." Hehehe.) While Kitho was welcoming and accommodating, and one of the guest house guys offered to let us sleep in his personal bed, it just didn't seem like we could relax without our own room. So wearily, we bid Kitho and his guest house buddies goodbye and got back on the longtail boat to Haad Rin to find a place to crash. Even though we were hungry we were too exhausted to even eat at this point (a fact punctuated by Richy's inability to finish even a small plate of Thai fried rice despite his typical ravenous appetite).

After wandering Haad Rin with our backpacks stopping in at some travel agencies, and asking around, we still couldn't find an open place. Finally we found a guy who said he knew a guy who had a room for 1500 baht for a night (about $45). This was way over our price range (of about 300-600 baht/night - about $10-15), but we were exhausted enough to follow him. Of course when we got to the place the owner said, "No, no, no, one night? 2000 baht." And he could tell by the looks on our faces that we were not happy but also too tired to barter. At least the room was quite nice, with air con, hot water and all, so it was at least a good place for us to recharge. The next morning we set out calling all over the island to find the ideal place to stay, and after a few phone calls and a harrowing truck taxi ride over some pretty rough jungle roads, we found it, a charming private bungalow with a view (partially obscured, but pleasant) and for only 600 baht a night.

I should mention that the reason why we were having such a hard time finding a place to stay had to do with a little Ko Phan Ngyan tradition. Every full moon, the beach at Haad Rin throws a huge all night party, fueled by sex, drugs, alcohol, fire spinning, and apparently lots of German frat boys. Back in the 80's it started as a hippy birthday party, but apparently people had so much fun it became a tradition, growing every year along with the island's infrastructure, now taking on proportions that rival spring break at Cancun or Fort Lauderdale. We weren't really sure if we were going to go check it out or not, I'd heard that it could be pretty disgusting to watch, but we met some Italians at our bungalows that encouraged us to go. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) the decision was taken away from us, as the party was canceled at the last minute due to a little known rule (at least by foreigners) that in Thailand, alcohol cannot be sold on election days. This provincial election happened to coincide with this particular full moon.

So we spent four days lounging on a secluded beach called Than Sadet, at some bungalows collectively called Mai Pen Rai (Thai for "no problem"). We got a little tan, bought a tie-dye hammock and some candles, read a few books, ate delicious Thai food, and played in the surf. We even tried to make friends with a giant spider in the bathroom. It was totally worth all the trouble of getting there. And the coconut shakes were so delicious and fresh, despite their mild laxative properties!

Unfortunately we couldn't stay on the beach forever (or maybe we could have if we were willing to make a few changes to our long-term life goals). I was even getting a little bored on the last day, in-between books and laid up from playing in the surf when a big wave scraped my leg across the gritty area of sand and left me without any skin on my knee. So we made plans to leave the island, hopped aboard the most crowded truck taxi I could imagine (finally fitting 15 people into a modified, small, 1995 Mazda pick-up) and made the mistake of booking our trip north with a tiny Thai travel agency. It was however, better than the 3rd class trip on the way down. The highlight was getting dropped off in the middle of a Bangkok highway interchange at 3am to be fed to a pack of crooked cab drivers, most of whom were unwilling to turn on their meters. Luckily we found the only honest one who used a meter and took us to the Northern Bus Terminal. It was 4:30 am by this time and we were faced with a choice: wait until 10:30 to take a bus to Sukothai, or wait 30 minutes to take a bus to Chiang Mai. We chose Chiang Mai.

Phase 3: The Lovely Chiang Mai

We arrived at Chiang Mai on Sunday in the late afternoon and quickly found a pleasant guest house to stay at within the old city wall. Richy knew of a Sunday market he visited when he was here the first time, so we wandered around the old city until we found it. Richy was surprised to see that it had grown a lot since he was there last, but it could also have been the difference in tourist season. I was surprised by how much the community feel of the event reminded me of a typical spring Artswalk Festival in Olympia. There were lots of artists, musicians, food vendors, and a good mix of tourists as well as Thais enjoying themselves. We found ourselves some delicious mangoes and sticky rice and sat down to wonder where all the English-speaking Western kids had come from and why they were walking around all alone. We also pondered the popularity of all-blind music groups playing for change - a government program perhaps? We wandered back to our guest house street and decided to unwind by taking in some beer and snacks in a nearby Kiwi-owned place. About halfway through our large bottles of Beer Chang, a somewhat official-looking man in a suedo-uniform (blue polo shirt and black pants) and carrying a gun, walked in. We thought nothing of it until the staff of the restaurant ran out with big black coffee mugs and started pouring all our beer into them. They were getting rid of all easily seen alcohol consumption evidence... why? Election day. Different province, different election day, same no-alcohol sale rule. Not that that really stopped anyone from drinking. We heard the official-looking guy telling some guys on his way out, "Order a mixed drink, then it just looks like you're drinking juice."

The next day, we decided to rent a motor scooter to go see the Doi Sutep temple on top of a mountain outside of Chiang Mai. I was a little scared, because Richy had never driven a motor scooter before (neither have I) and with Thai drivers being crazier than Korean drivers, anything could happen. But I reassured myself with my second calming mantra of the trip: nothing worth doing is without risk, nothing worth doing is without risk, nothing worth doing is without risk... The first place we went, across the street from the guest house, was run by a kindly old Thai woman who, once she heard we had never ridden a motor scooter before advised us to take a bus or taxi instead. Not wanting to argue with her, we walked several blocks to another rental place we had seen the day before. We didn't exactly tell the guy it was our first try, and Richy took a test spin around the block before I hopped on the back (yes moms, we wore helmets). The first few turns were a little awkward, and I could tell Richy was a little nervous, but by the time we were heading out of the city toward the mountain, we were both feeling pretty comfortable and enjoying the wind on our faces. It was much easier to ride up the mountain anyway, since there was less traffic and almost no intersections to speak of.

We arrived at the temple, took off our shoes, took lots of pictures of the beautiful scenery, and met our first elephant of the trip. But we weren't ready to head back into town. Instead, we continued up the mountain in search of less touristy sights and a little-visited traditional Hmong village we read about in the guidebook. So we kept going until the road turned into dirt, and the jungle-laden hillside began to feature banana trees and coffee shrubs. We saw maybe six other people on the whole ride. We stopped at a peaceful little coffee plantation and had a cup straight from the source, a very black, bitter yet strangely sweet brew. Then we continued to the village just a short way up the road. When we got there, we were a little uncertain about what to do, since it was basically a bunch of wooden shacks with pigs, chickens, and cute little dogs milling about. We bought some drinking water from a little roadside vendor, then continued down the road until we arrived at the largest building in the village, what appeared to be a school. There were English signs pointing to a toilet and a view point, so we checked it out. There was a beautiful sweeping view of the valley and all of Chiang Mai. Back at the scooter, we were met with a Thai man who seemed very happy to see us. He was the English teacher at the school and began giving us a tour, introducing us to students and explaining the history of the place. He offered us more coffee, followed by tea, and took us to his English classroom. The students were all Hmong, most of the teachers Thai (all but one commuting daily from Chiang Mai), the school beginning 35 years ago with a grant from a group of people in India. The school is government funded now, but still has trouble with financing as evidenced from the homemade shampoo and dish soap that the students make to get money for school books and such. We bought two bottles of shampoo (apparently it will keep our hair from turning gray and falling out), and bid the students farewell. Upon leaving Richy and I were thinking: now that's the kind of school I would like to teach in! Of course, a school like that could only hire volunteers, so we'll have to wait until we have some savings to volunteer in any village schools in Southeast Asia...

Arriving back in Chiang Mai, we filled up the gas tank, shocked to find that although we had been driving all day we used less than a gallon of gas (our next vehicle just might have to be a motor scooter). We returned the scooter just 5 minutes before the deadline, and decided to take in a Muay Thai fight for the evening. We were looking forward to a real Thai cultural experience, but unfortunately the only Thais in the arena were either serving drinks or trying to kick each other in the face. Still, it was pretty interesting to watch, and I wondered why we still allow two people to be put in a cage to beat the shit out of each other, but it's illegal to make animals do it. It started with the "Super Kid Fight" between two 66 pound boys who looked like they should still be in Elementaty school, moving up to the "Super Lady Fights" and finally the headliner fight, which actually drew a considerable amount of blood from the forehead of one of the fighters. After the fight, the lights were turned down and all of the ladyboy (transvestite) bartenders disappeared into dressing rooms, only to reappear moments later in the ring, dressed up like Vegas showgirls, dancing and lip syncing to "Dancing Queen" and "I will Survive." Honestly, I enjoyed the drag show much more than the fight.

And here are some videos to illustrate the Muay Thai and drag show:

Phase 4: Amazing Ruins at Sukothai

The next day, we hopped back on a bus heading southward toward Sukothai, hoping to catch some glimpses of what Thailand was like 700 or so years ago. We found another nice guest house with bungalows in back, nestled in garden of beautiful tropical plants and crawling with adorable geckos. This was our cheapest room yet for only 300 baht ($10) for the two of us, and even including a private bathroom with hot water (what a deal!). As usual, we spent the first evening wandering around on foot, and ate dinner at a nearby night market (with delicious banana roti pancakes, and not so delicious ants crawling all over the produce in the kitchens).

Since we deciding that our favorite mode of travel is now via motor scooter, and considering that the Sukothai Historical Park was a thirty minute ride outside the city, we rented yet another motorbike for a day of sight seeing. We started at the main ruins, Richy taking photos, and me trying to effectively sketch the perfectly symmetrical Buddha faces and towering chedis (conical monuments for housing relics). Since we had the scooter, we were able to also see a lot of the less-trafficked ruins outside of the historical park, including some that seemed nearly forgotten (conjuring childhood fantasies of Indiana Jones) and one perched on a 200 meter hill looking down over Sukothai. We also visited a museum, where I learned the symbolism of some of the typical Thai buddha poses: seated, one hand on lap, one raised for subduing the Mara; standing, one hand raised for imparting fearlessness; and the innovative "walking Buddha" which represents Buddha after enlightenment spreading the word. After returning to the main park for sunset, witnessing some people chanting and worshiping near one of the ponds, and trying to get some last photos in the dusk, we headed back to the guest house for our last restful night in Thailand.

The next day we took the 7 hour bus back to Bangkok, and even though we arrived 5 hours before our flight was departing, we couldn't really think of anything to do but go to the airport and try to get checked in early. Unfortunately our plan was thwarted by a Korean golf tour group, who had already camped out at the check in desk and who had apparently booked nearly the whole plane. Even 5 hours early, we were at the end of the line. Oh well. Back to life in Korea.

One thing that I found positively relieving about being back in Korea: even with our touristy backpacks on, no one tried to sell us any rides or hassled us at the airport. We rode the subway back to the apartment in relative anonymity. And the cold weather wasn't as much of a shock as I expected, it seems like spring is well on its way (thank goodness). Now we can look forward to celebrating Richy's birthday and to a possible trip to Japan over my 3 day birthday weekend in May (which is apparently, also Buddha's birthday - coincidence?).

by Katie

Seollal in Gyeongju

2008-02-11T08:56:00.001+08:00

Over the five day holiday weekend for Lunar New Year (aka. Seollal) Richy, Tom, Lindsey and I visited the city of Gyeongju in the Southeast of Korea. We arrived at our accommodation, Hanjin Hostel in the evening of Lunar New Year's Day to find that most of the city was shut down (as expected) for the holiday. Our kind and knowledgeable English speaking host however, insisted that we visit a nearby restaurant owned by his friend that he was working on convincing to open specially for his patrons. After wandering the city for a bit to work up an appetite and climbing up a couple of tomb hills, we went to the restaurant which was quickly filling up with other foreigners from the hostel. We met some interesting Canadians, ate a lovely dinner of samgyupsal and then spent the rest of the evening drinking beer and chatting at the hostel. At some point, our host came upstairs to where we were drinking, decided we weren't drinking enough and gave us 10,000 won (about $10) to go buy more to drink, which we did. All around, I thought the hostel was pretty interesting and full of character, but our rooms were a little on the cold side. I guess you get what you pay for though, since it was only 15,000 per night per person. I think it would be a lot nicer in the spring or summer when the rooftop terrace is more comfortable (we tried to spend time up there, but almost froze to death).

On day two, we had an amazing day, which started with wandering around the town looking for tombs. We found a tomb park, got yelled at for trying to climb on one of them (must have been someone important), and saw some ancient things, including an old underground ice storage chamber. We then visited the museum and saw the huge Emille bell, which can reportedly be heard from three kilometers away by only banging on it with a fist (we didn't get to try though). We also saw many Buddha statues, most of which were missing heads and hands, but impressive nonetheless. We then took a bus up to the famous UNSECO world heritage site of the 1300 year old Seokguram Grotto, which features an impressive Buddha statue and many plastic lanterns lining the paths. Afterward we went down to another UNESCO world heritage site, the Bulguksa Temple, the foundation of which is thousands of years old, with the wooden structures standing on top dating from a few hundred years to a few decades old. The whole place was so peaceful, even though it was crowded with Korean families taking pictures in their hanbok (traditional Korean dress) for the holiday. Richy's camera battery died just before a beautiful red sunset over the temple, which was one of the most beautiful and awe-inspiring sunsets I have seen. After heading back into the city we found what looked like a cozy restaurant, but they kept leaving the door open, so we weren't quite able to take our coats off. The dalkgalbi (spicy chicken stir fry) was delicious though, and our follow-up course of bokumbap (Korean fried rice) was expertly crafted into a heart shape and equally delicious.

We must have earned some bad day karma from the second day being so great, because the third day was quite disappointing. We decided to take the bus out to the East Sea (also controversially called the Sea of Japan), and from there we wanted to visit the underwater tomb and some fancy pagodas. When we got there, however, we seemed kind of trapped, because we couldn't find any taxis to take us anywhere else and the buses seemed to only go back to where we came from. We wandered around the waterfront and the harbor for a while, checked out a lighthouse, and crawled around on some rocks before we got hungry. We decided that it might be interesting to try one of the many seafood restaurants since we were near where all the seafood is caught, and decided we wanted to try some of the steamed crabs. Fatefully, we walked into what seemed like a nice, inviting restaurant. We found out soon that the restaurant keepers had no intention of keeping the door closed (and the restaurant warm) so we found no respite from the biting cold. On top of that, the menu, although it contained some Enlgish, was very confusing. Then, to top that, the proprietor of the restaurant seemed interested in only getting us to buy the most expensive menu items. After a very frustrating bout of trying to talk to her (in both Korean and English), pointing to the things we wanted (on both the menu and on the other tables), and telling her we were on a budget, she finally told us we were going to get something to eat and wrote 40,000 won on our tab. We waited for our 40,000 won worth food to come and she showed up with one large crab (missing a leg), and seaweed side dishes to share. All the other tables with crabs got soup after they ate their crabs so we waited for a while after finishing for our soup to come. No soup came. We were cold. We left, still hungry (and cold), in disbelief that she had charged us 40,000 won (about $40) for ONE CRAB! Tom and Richy asked around at some of the other restaurants how much crabs should cost... one said two for 30,000. We were all in bad moods and went down to the Family Mart to fill ourselves with something cheap and warm (ramyun, cookies, coffee, etc.). Then we took the bus back to town in defeat. We saw another beautiful sunset starting, but couldn't get off the bus in time to get pictures. We went home to the hostel to take a nap, then ate dinner at Mr. Pizza, which was filling, but riddled with more communication problems with our server. How did we suddenly become unable to order food in Korean? I don't know.

We went to bed early and got up early to catch our 7:45 am train out of town. I'd really like to go back to Gyeongju when the weather is warmer and the grass is green. Either way, I'm looking forward to GOING TO THAILAND this Friday! Ahhh, warmth sounds so good right now...

by Katie

PS. In other, ancient treasures of Korea news, Namdaemun gate burned down last night. It's very sad because it was the oldest wooden structure in Korea (over 600 years old) and considered the #1 national treasure. I'm just glad we got to see it before it went. Read the article about it here: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/7238210.stm

Reflections on Camp and the Jimjilbang

2008-02-03T17:42:00.001+08:00

Last Wednesday, Richy and I returned from Chamsarang (True Love) Winter camp in Daesungni. There, we stayed in a lodge-like dormitory with about 100 middle school students, and more than 20 other teachers and staff members. We knew (unhappily) before coming that we would be sharing bathroom and shower facilities with all these people, but we didn't know that we would also be sleeping Korean-style: on the floor. The experience was definitely exhausting from the get-go, and I broke my usual abstinence from daily caffeine intake. Despite these inconveniences however, I was amazed to leave the camp happy to have participated. It was great to get to know a group students, work with friendly and committed co-teachers and supervisors, and actually have fun teaching English. I find myself actually looking forward to the three week camps in the summer but I also hope that they will include western-style beds and private showers.

Throughout the camp, in the stolen moments I took to bathe and take care of myself, I thought that the upcoming weekend would be a great opportunity for Richy and I to experience a traditional Korean bathhouse, known as a jimjilbang. Korean families typically go to the jimjilbang once a week or so to refresh themselves, relax, and scrub all the skin on their body really hard with a rough cloth. Our friend Min-Hwa did some internet research and found high recommendations for a jimjilbang near Bangi station. Entry fee with coupons was 5,000 won per person. After paying our fees, we were each given a key and placed our shoes in special shoe lockers near the door. Then we were issued our offical jimjilbang uniform: pink shorts and tee for women, blue for men (and red for small children, whose parents can take them in either gender's locker room). Then we went into the locker rooms to change into our outfits and store our street clothes in the lockers. From there, we had several floors of options: in the locker room, we could enter the baths (basically hot tubs featuring a variety of temperatures and treatments), the showers, the cupping room, and the scrub-down tables (where you can have a professional scrub all your skin off if you don't want to do it yourself); on the second floor, you can meet your male friends while wearing your fancy little outfits and try out some of the saunas which range in temp from 43 C (109 F) to 72 C (160 F), afterward you can jump into the cold room -5 C (23 F and complete with snow), or buy a smoothie or lunch at one of the restaurants (and pay with your locker key so you don't have to worry about carrying your wallet around); on the third floor, you'll find more saunas, massage and steam tables, places to get facials and manicures, doctor fish (that eat all the dead skin off your feet), a computer room, an arcade, and rooms full of little cubbies where you can take a nap (most jimjilbangs are open 24hrs so if you need a place to sleep in a pinch this is an option); on the fourth floor is the pool, and above that, there were tennis courts, racquetball rooms, and other such things. Overall, it was a really good experience, but I left feeling a little exhausted and hoping for a less crowded venue for our next jimjilbang experience.

This week is Seollal, also known as Lunar New Year, and we will be celebrating our time off work by traveling south to the city of Gyeongju with our friends Tom and Lindsey. Sometimes called the Kyoto of Korea, Gyeongju is known as one of the most beautiful and historic cities in Korea as it was the capital of the Shilla dynasty from the 7th to the 9th centuries. We're really looking forward to the trip and will definitely be updating the blog when we get back.

Happy Lunar New Year! Hope you enjoy the new look of the blog and the photo cast pictures taken with Richy's new camera!

By Katie

Teeth and Camp

2008-01-21T10:54:00.001+08:00

A game, any game, involving many children moving about very quickly on a hard surface such as concrete, inevitably leads to injury. This was the case approximately 15 years ago when, as I only vaguely remember, I was the victim of such a wonderfully instructed Physical Education lesson. The details are blurred by my young age at the time and the ensuing years of subsequent memories, though it was a more important event than many others in my childhood. I remember falling, and someone falling on top of me, and my face smashing into the hard and cold concrete, and getting up to realize that my front right tooth had been broken. I remember going to the nurses office and having my mother come and take me to the dentist. I remember that within perhaps the span of only an hour I had went from having a devastated sense of self-esteem from having a chipped front tooth, to it being like nothing had ever happened. After that my mind never frequently went over the details of that event, though the memory was vivid enough for it to be saved until now.

Fast forward 15 years and a couple thousand miles across the western ocean to Seoul, South Korea. A few friends and I are in a cozy little bar, I'm fiddling with my new camera. Our friend Kitho ordered a plate of french fries to share with us. I began eating the rather soft and large french fries, never once were did it cross my mind that my teeth were in jeopardy. I thought that I'd bitten into a hard over-fried french fry, something unchewable, I spit it out. Moments later the memory of PE class in the third grade came rushing back. It wasn't in fact, an over-cooked hard piece of a french fry, but the replacement tooth that I'd never thought twice about since the 3rd grade.

There were several reasons why this was a bad time for this to happen. First, it was after midnight. Second, we had to leave the next morning to go to a sleep-away camp in an out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere town about an hour outside of Seoul. I really wasn't looking forward to having to teach a 10 day camp with a half-tooth. But unfortunately, in a city of 10 million people, apparently there is no such thing as a dentist that works on Sundays. So after visiting two emergence rooms, and explaining that waiting until Monday wasn't an option, we had to depart for the winter camp with nothing more than a paste applied to my tooth to stop the sensitivity I'd been feeling.

I really wanted this to be fixed as soon as possible. As the doctor in the second emergency room aptly stated, in rather good english, "The problem is that it doesn't look so good." (One note about the healthcare profession in Korea: nearly every doctor speaks english well and if not, someone in the hospital or office will speak english well, as they have more than likely studied abroad. So, luckily, translation isn't too troublesome to worry about.) Well, in Seoul I know I could find decent dental care, but in the rather small resort village, in the off-season, where the camp is located, I was worried that the best they would be able to muster was some magician/shaman trained in chinese medicine and traditional arts. Well, to shorten this already over-the-top narrative, I was mistaken. Though I had to wait an additional 24 hours, the next morning after we arrived they took me to a quite-modern looking and advanced dental office called, "New York Dental," (probably named after where he studied.) The dentist had prominently displayed a photograph of himself among a group of western dentists. And he spoke rather good english. I didn't even have to wait 5 min. and within maybe 45 min. total my tooth was fixed. We were back an hour or so before the students even arrived at the camp.

Now my teeth are back to normal, though the novocaine has yet to wear off, but I'm still trying to remember the details about the initial incident, who fell on top of me, for instance. And I can't help but wonder why french fries managed to pull it off, and not the sandwich that I'd eaten an hour or two before. Nevertheless, I can safely say that the dental system in Korea is at least on par with the dental system in the states 4 years ago, which was about the last time I visited a dentist.

The New Year

2008-01-14T18:15:00.001+08:00

So back home you think the holidays have already passed... well not in Korea! We're still in the midst of the holiday season with Lunar New Year coming up at the beginning of February. It's a good thing too because the holiday lights are necessary to your emotional well-being when you're wandering around with your face freezing off in the dead of the Korean winter.

Haley came and went, sadly. We didn't do as many glamorous things as I had hoped. The cold weather put a bit of a damper on any out of the house activities. On the upside, I felt like my home life was normal again. I think I am used to having an overabundance of estrogen in my living situations. This whole 50-50 thing is just not what I'm used to. We did go out to a fancy dinner for New Years (the best Italian food I've had in a long time), did a lot of shopping, and visited the DMZ.

The DMZ is a several kilometer-wide expanse of unoccupied territory between North and South Korea. It is manned on both sides by military personnel and monitored by the United Nations. It's necessary because the Korean war is still technically not over, as a peace treaty was never signed, only a cease fire (I read in the news today that the p lan is to have a peace treaty signed by 2010). While the land is still riddled with land mines and anti-tank barriers, it now harbors some of the most pristine wilderness on the Korean peninsula (including tiny deer that grow fangs instead of antlers) as a result of it being virtually untouched by mankind for over 50 years. We got to stand in North Korea for a few moments and took some bleak-looking but interesting pictures. On the way back in the bus we watched a documentary about the Korean war, and it was amazing to see footage of the city back when it was leveled by war (only 50 years ago) while driving through the giant metropolis that has sprung up since.

Richy and I have both started our in-school winter camps which are much more relaxed that our normal school days. It's nice having a small number of students to get to know and be able to have more one-on-one time with them. It's also nice getting off work early and having the rest of the day to do whatever we want. Next weekend we start our away camp, so for ten days we'll be staying at a complex outside of the city. I'm a little bit nervous about it just because I don't really know what to expect. I hope it isn't too stressful as I know other NSETs have complained about them in the past. Either way, we'll be making extra money which we will be spending on our trip to Thailand for the last two weeks of February. We are both looking forward to sand and sunshine. It will be a much needed break from all the cold weather here. I'm hoping that springtime in Seoul will be showing itself when we get back.

Richy recently invested in a fancy digital SLR camera so he's been taking a lot more pictures. So we should have more photos up soon (and of a much higher quality).

By Katie

Winter Break!

2007-12-29T08:35:00.001+08:00

We have a week off. An entire week away from school where we get to do whatever we want. Too bad it's only a week. It's the end of our first semester, and the end of the Korean school year. Yesterday I had to say goodbye to the two Vice-Principals at my school because... I won't be seeing them for a month and a half? I'm not sure exactly what the hoopla was about, but apparently the last day of the semester/year is a mildly formal affair. It was the last day of the school year, but I would have expected some sort of graduation ceremony or goodbye to the students event. There was no such thing. I was just taken in to say something kind to the VPs and bow to them. And since they have the final say in affairs related to me (i.e. leaving early or vacation time), I don't have any problems with doing whatever is necessary to keep them happy.

After the formalities they let me leave early. Katie and I had to get to the airport by 5:30 to meet Haley (Katie's younger sister), and it's about a two hour ride on the subway from our apartment. Haley's here to visit for a couple of weeks. We're happy to have some company. The next week should be pretty fun. We don't know what we'll be doing for New Year's Eve, but it doesn't look like we'll be going to Japan like we'd wanted to do. It would end up being too much for Haley to afford. So we'll be sticking around here instead.

It'll be nice to have a break though. We might actually have enough time to relax and reflect and think. Then next week we start our winter camps.

Four Months In

2007-12-24T09:48:00.001+08:00

Today marks our fourth month here. That's one-third of our time. And the journey to the half-way mark (six months) is probably going to be fast. Our regular classes end this week, and between now and the beginning of March we'll only have one more week of regular classes. We'll have three weeks of English camps to do in January though, two weeks of which are half-days. Also, we'll be attending a special 10 day camp outside of Seoul at the end of January, for which we'll be getting quite a nice bit of extra cash.

We'll have some time off between now and then to do some traveling too. We're scheming up plans to go to Japan for New Years Eve, and we're planning on going to Thailand and potentially Cambodia too in February.

After that we'll be halfway through, and we'll be thrust into a five month long stretch with practically no holidays, which I've heard described as "the longest five months of your life" by some of the veterans here.

As for the financial front (the impetus for it all) we're four months in and have ~$5,000 saved. Which is on track for the goal of $15,000 by the end. Of course, our travel plans will probably shrink this a bit. But that's the kind of thing we're planning on doing with this money anyway. And the special winter camp will make up for some of that.

Well, I better get back to work here on Christmas Eve. Actually it's not too bad, my lesson for this week is Christmas vocabulary and the "Frosty the Snowman" cartoon.

Happy Holidays,

Richy.

Incheon and the Yellow Sea

2007-12-19T08:50:00.001+08:00

On Saturday we planned on going to the Van Gogh exhibit here in Seoul. The exhibit is supposed to be one of the largest assemblages of Van Gogh paintings anywhere in the past decade, and the last showing of Van Goghs in Asia for the next ten years, with two of the largest Museums in the Netherlands loaning paintings from their collections. It started in late November and will continue until March. But our plans were foiled.

None of our friends wanted to get up early enough or weren't interested enough to go. After debating whether or not to go by ourselves to the museum, our friends Tom and Lindsey called us with a somewhat ridiculous suggestion to go to Incheon to see the Yellow Sea. It was already 2:00 in the afternoon and the trip to Incheon is nearly 2 hours from our place. With the sun setting at around 5:00 here we realized that it wouldn't be the most scenic or comfortable outing. Nevertheless, it was an intriguing idea, and I have been wanting to go to Incheon for some time.

Incheon is technically a separate city from Seoul, though you'd be hard pressed to tell where one ends and the other begins. It is one of the busiest ports in the world and is where Seoul's international airport is located. Incheon also has an important role in Korea's recent history. It was in Incheon that Douglas MacArthur and a group of UN soldiers made an amphibious landing to turn the tide in the Korean war. Well, almost turned the tide, as the country is still divided in two. Without a doubt this is one of the most important events of modern Korean history, as the American influence in South Korea has been tremendously influential in every aspect of it's post-war culture, for better or worse. But this isn't the only reason why the Koreans venerate MacArthur, as they also adore him for defeating the Japanese in World War II, which ended the half century Japanese occupation of Korea, one of the most shameful periods of history for the Koreans.

So to illustrate MacArthur's importance they have erected a large statue of MacArthur on top of a hill overlooking Incheon's port. Just how important this statue is can be understood by the simple fact that the statue of Confucius (who can be credited with laying the intellectual and cultural foundations for several east asian cultures) is lower on the hill and quite smaller.

Sinterklass

2007-12-10T14:58:00.001+08:00

We went to our Dutch friend Noor's place yesterday to celebrate the Dutch holiday Sinterklaas. Apparently in the Netherlands they have two holidays when we have one. Sinterklaas means just what it sounds like it means: Santa Claus. So whereas we've smashed together a christian holy day and a more secular day of gift giving into one mega-holiday, the Dutch, as well as many of our other European cousins, have two separate days. One Santa Claus day and a separate jesus birthday.

On Sinterklaas in the Netherlands, you exchange gifts. Children wake up to get gifts from stockings, just like Christmas. And families gather etc. Another interesting tradition that is a bit more unusual is that it is common to write rude poems about everyone in attendance. Normally, each person writes a rude poem for someone else. But since Noor was the only Dutch person at her Sinterklaas party, she took it upon herself to write a short poem for all of the guests that came. She tried to walk a fine line between preserving the Sinterklaas rude poem tradition, and not pissing off all of her rather new friends, in other words, what we received were apparently watered down versions of a real Sinterklaas poem. I think she was pretty successful though. My poem was something along the lines of: your better at playing the Wii than you are at Noraebang.

It was interesting to experience a different culture translated around the world like that. Perhaps back home it would seem strange. But, in Asia, when you meet others from European countries, you realize just how closely related the European cultures are, and America is a European culture. So Sinterklaas feels not at all unfamiliar. Of course, if everyone was speaking Dutch it might have been a bit different. But I don't think any European holiday would feel as weird as a traditional Korean Chuseok festival complete with making an entire meal for your dead ancestors....

- by Richy

So Sinterklaas was nice, but the highlight of the weekend for me was the housewarming party we went to on Saturday.

The day started out less than ideal. Richy and I rolled out of the house in the early afternoon to check our bank statements in Suyu, get some lunch and pick up some gifts to bring to our two weekend parties (because we're such social butterflies). I had a run-in with a curb at the bank, which left me with a sore ankle, dirty knees, and scraped up hands --- then at our fancy McDonald's lunch, I spilled my full soda all over the floor, much to the delight of the depressed-looking cleaning girl. Then we headed off to Dongdaemun Stadium, which is the shopping mecca of Seoul, where I was entranced by the garish displays of Christmas lights and bought the bitterest grapefruit juice drink I have ever tasted (only drinkable after considerable watering down). We went to the 1,000 won store (the Korean version of the dollar store) to get some good white elephant-style gifts for the Sinterklaas party, and I found a glowing pink mushroom lamp and Richy found a "classic" mini globe. Korea is the best place I've found yet for buying cheap, hilarious crap (haven't been to China and Japan yet though).

Then we took the short subway ride to Min-Hwa's tiny apartment housewarming party. Although the place is a small studio, she's done an excellent job decorating it with candles, a pretty rug, some houseplants, and the centerpiece of her entertainment center: two very perky-breasted African woman figures. Her mother (who lives in the southern seaside city of Busan) sent a large styrofoam package of Korean king crabs. Although there was only 5 of us, we had 8 huge crabs to share, plus six bottles of wine (which we didn't finish thankfully). Housewarming seems to be a pretty big deal in Korea, but I am glad Richy and I never had one because A: I don't want all my co-teachers to come to my house (I'm afraid my housekeeping may not be up to Korean standards) B: We don't need all that stuff to get rid of when we leave. We spent our post-crab time playing wii sports until Min-Hwa fell asleep and we took the amazingly short cab ride home (typically early morning cab rides seem to take an hour and cost close to 20,000 won, where as this one only cost 8,000). This was the highlight of my weekend because I love crab. We're going to have to make it out to Busan one of these days.

Then we had Sinterklaas, which Richy already covered. Next weekend we may go see the Van Gogh exhibit...

- by Katie

Thanksgiving

2007-11-26T16:15:00.001+08:00

We had a thanksgiving dinner on Saturday. Our friends Tom and Lindsey from back home came, as well as our newer friends Kitho from North Carolina, Min-Hwa from Busan, Korea, and Noor from the Netherlands. It was Min-Hwa and Noor's first time celebrating thanksgiving.

Katie prepared pies and stuffing, Kitho made mashed potatoes, Tom and Lindsey brought some wine, I made sweet potatoes. Unfortunately turkey isn't very easy to get or affordable here, so we had to have a roast chicken instead. But it wasn't too far from a traditional meal.

After dinner and pies, and a few bottles of wine, we played some Wii games.

Then we had a couple of bottles of soju.

And then we we were ready to go to NORAEBANG (고래방). Not exactly traditional, but it was fun anyway.

There's a Noraebang near our place that I've wanted to go to for a while. Noraebangs are very prevalent. You cannot walk down any street without seeing several (Unless, of course, you can't read korean, in which case you'd be oblivious). And so, because of their prevalence, they try to differentiate themselves. This particular Noraebang tries to set itself apart from the rest by having a creepy alien-nest theme. Each of the Noraebang singing rooms is covered in a plaster to look like some sort of alien plant is growing over them. And there are creepy statues everywhere. Inside the nest-rooms, though, is just your typical Noraebang set-up. Several television sets for the Karaoke part, lined with benches, a giant remote control to input the songs, and some tamborines.

All Noraebangs have an English language section, though I'm beginning to realize that they all have the same crappy selection. Still it's a couple of hundred english songs to choose from.

We paid up front for an hour at 15,000 won (about 15 dollars) and sang to our hearts content and until our voices were fading.

It was a strange but satisfying thanksgiving.

Korean tastes

2007-11-19T12:27:00.001+08:00

Some interesting things I have discovered about food in Korea in the past few weeks:

First, I taught a lesson on recipes to my students last week. The recipes chosen as examples for an activity were chili con carne and pancakes. I expected that these dishes would be popular with students since brown-sugar filled pancakes are a popular street food and the flavor of chili closely resembles several spicy Korean dishes. While showing a cooking video of a chef making chili, the students were fine...they watched intently as she cooked the onions, peppers, and ground meat in a pan. Then came the time to add the beans, and in each class, the pouring of the beans into the pan aroused a sound of protest from the students. This sound of protest turned to utter disgust when she added tomatoes (according to the co-teacher they were saying "dog-food" in Korean), and finally outright indignation when she plopped a dollop of sour cream on top. One student asked me "Do you eat that?!" I realize in hindsight that Koreans really do take seriously the idea that tomatoes are a fruit (as evidenced by their appearance in several sweet cafeteria fruit salads - to my dismay) and beans are typically seen as a sweetened filling for rice cakes or candies. They did like the pancakes though. Second, with the advent of Thanksgiving, I have been trying to find turkey. When talking with my co-teachers about turkey and telling them how much I like it, I was surprised to find that those who had tried turkey before (usually on trips to the US or Canada) absolutely hated it. I don't really understand why. I tried to tell them it's just like chicken, but better, and they give me a weird look. Could all of America really be wrong? Is our most delicious poultry product really that disgusting to the rest of the world? While Koreans eat chicken, I think they are much bigger fans of pork and beef (and various types of disgusting-looking seafood). Maybe they just don't love poultry the way we do in the US. It explains why on my first trip to Costco in Korea I found spicy pork bakes instead of the classically delicious chicken bake. Luckily when we went yesterday the chicken bakes magically appeared and I heartily indulged myself.

While restaurants in Korea are cheap and plentiful, it's just not the same as home.

By Katie

Katie vs. Bukhansan

2007-11-12T19:46:00.001+08:00

My co-teacher Faith has for weeks been excited for me to her friend Barbara who teaches at Indian Head International school just north of here. Apparently Barbara is a pretty avid hiker, so my opportunity to meet her came this last weekend when Faith invited me to hike 8 of the 12 fortress gates of Bukhansan. Richy decided that he preferred to spend his Saturday engaged in more leisurely pursuits.

I got up on Saturday at my usual weekday wake up time of 7:00am, dressed, ate breakfast, and took the 15 minute walk to Suyu station. There, I saw a group of older Korean men greeting each other, dressed in typical Korean hiking fashion. I stood there awkwardly as we stared at each other, wondering whether we were in the same hiking party, but too reserved to ask. When Faith showed up it turned out these were the other teachers we were hiking with, from a nearby high school. Here, I'll introduce them by their nicknames: Kenny Rogers (so called because he sings Kenny Rogers songs well at Norebang, and insisted on singing a few as we were hiking), a math teacher who seemed to speak the least English of the group, and made a point to brag about his son who lives and works in the US. When I asked him what his son did for work he replied, "Server. Do you know DQ? He serve ice cream there. And study English." The official leader of our group (although I am not sure why) was a social studies teacher by the nickname of Kisaro (again, a song-related name of some sort) who spoke good English and was very kind to everyone throughout the trip. Finally, the official photographer of our group was Andy who has apparently traveled and hiked extensively throughout the world, including Mt. Rainier and Glacier National Park, so he was very eager to talk to me about hiking in the Pacific Northwest.

I was also soon introduced to Barbara, a woman in her mid to late 60's who has taught all over the world, hikes like a teenager and who seems like an altogether cool person, originally from Colorado. I was also introduced to Annie, a 27-year-old teacher at a nearby private elementary school who lives with her husband (also a teacher) in the dorms at Indian Head school (that's how she knows Barbara).

We all caught a bus from Suyu to the trail head which took about 30 minutes. It also took us through one of the quaintest areas of Seoul that I have seen so far: ornate copper light posts, cute little shops in old traditional buildings, and bright fall colors all around. Right at the trail head was an expensive hotel boasting a "sky view" restaurant which looked like a miniature, boxy version of the space needle.

The first leg of our hike was long, rocky and steep, but as soon as we reached the first gate of the ancient fortress wall (originally built in 132 AD and modified, extended and rebuilt many times since) the hike leveled out a bit and turned into more of a long walk for a few hours. Kisaro soon led us away from the wall and we found ourselves taking "shortcuts" that took us up and over a series of steep granite peaks. At the fifth gate we sat down and ate a lunch of a various types of rice cakes, persimmon, and homemade wine. Then came the most strenuous part of the journey, where we went all the way up and all the way down three separate peaks, and at some points we were hoisting ourselves up cables and poles much like my first Korean hiking experience.

The last three gates passed anticlimactically and we ended our journey surrounded by tour buses near the grand South gate of the fortress, where tourist shops have set themselves up to specialize in food and hiking gear. Also Annie, Barbara and I ended the hike with new nicknames: Ms. Minnesota, Ms. Colorado, and Ms. Washington. I guess we seem like beauty queens in Korean eyes. We were invited to dinner, but since Barbara is a strict vegetarian who avoids eating in Korean restaurants whenever possible, and since I wanted to get home to have dinner with Richy, we ended up getting a ride home with a fourth male Korean teacher who had apparently decided not to come on the hike in order to help his wife make kimchi. He was introduced to me as Magpie and seemed to speak no English whatsoever, but had a good taste in music as evidenced by what was played on his car radio.

While I enjoyed the 7+ hour hike (we started at 9am and finished at 6pm, but took some breaks along the way), the fact that my thighs feel like they're screaming every time I move two days later makes me hesitant to want to go again anytime soon. Maybe climbing Korean mountains once every other month or so is enough...

By Katie