Made It On the Plane!

Well, we made it on the plane.  As much as I enjoy flying, it can be stressful.  We took the airport express train from Cadorna as I mentioned in my last post.  Once Michela and I got to the airport, she went down to help the rest of her family as they sorted out their luggage (two suitcases times five people plus carryons, adding in the things bought in Italy and putting back what they'd taken into Milan to wear while in Milan, etc., means an awful lot of luggage) while I went ahead to check in my suitcases (yay, I have two again!) to get them out of the way.  The guy at the check-in counter worried me by wondering aloud if they'd let me into Tanzania on a tourist visa as I have a one-way ticket (thanks for giving me THAT to worry about for the next sixteen hours.  Spoiler alert: they did let me in.), but he was also great because he wasn't too fussed about whether my luggage was exactly within the weight limits.  They were close at least.

Michela and I got to the airport a good three hours before our flight, and the Shorts even earlier; still by the time we got all of their luggage checked in we had an hour and forty-five minutes.  Security, customs...slow.  But, we had plenty of time by the time we were done still, so we stopped for food (gigantic pieces of pizza) and last cups of Italian coffee for those that means something to (not a coffee person myself).  Then we started for the gate...the sign said seven minutes' walking time to that gate, but it lied.  We heard the announcement that our flight was boarding, and so we started running ( I HATE RUNNING).  We were some of the last people to board, but it was fine.  Honestly, we weren't actually late, it was just that boarding went more quickly than usual because there were so few people on the flight.  We got settled and then still had a good twenty minutes before the time scheduled for take-off.

My seat was right over the wing while the Shorts were almost all the way in the back; after I was settled I went back to take some pictures.  We took a few as selfies that I was in as well, but I think they were on Tammy's phone and I haven't gotten them from her yet.

The reason why there were so few people on board is that the plane was stopping in Rome on the way to Addis Ababa to pick up more people.  So, for the first hour, I had three seats myself (and no one was in the center four, either).  It would have been nice to stay like that all night, but of course we did pick up quite a crowd in Rome.  Still, it was just two people to every three seats so it could have been much worse.  The only further annoyance was that a large number of the people boarding in Rome seemed to be a large tour group of elderly Italians.  Now, I love Italians, but that was a bit much in one place.  Nobody could just sit down and mind their own business; everyone had to stand up and inquire as to where so-and-so was and complain a bit and make sure everyone else was well settled first.

The rest of the overnight flight was fairly uneventful; I got a bit of sleep and woke up in Africa.  

Leaving Milan

Leaving is hard. Not just the saying goodbye, but physically as well. I was sweating and my back was killing me as I hurried to repack my bags before leaving Marisa’s. Of course, I had planned carefully so that I would only have to open one of the vacuum bags and thus this wouldn’t be too difficult--but with my suitcase containing the one bag holding the clothes I meant to wear in Italy being one its own little vacation for five days, I had had to open three of the four. Fortunately, Marisa has a vacuum! I was concerned that she wouldn’t as she doesn’t have any carpets...but she is a professional cleaner and has one anyhow for cleaning out window sills, etc. I’m almost glad the airport kept my bag so long; I don’t know how I would have moved all of this stuff several times; just the one suitcase along with my backpack and purse nearly killed me. Also, of course, the day we left was also, by far, the hottest day since we’d been in Milan. The cool, comfortable, cloudy days were over and the sun was bright.

Fortunately, Michela came out to help me roll the other one, and Marisa pointed out that a taxi to Cadorna where we were catching the airport express train wasn’t all that expensive (ended up being about eight dollars, and was worth every penny not to have to drag all that down the stairs to the metro). Lewis and Tammy and the other girls had gone ahead on an earlier train, as they needed to redo their bags they had left in storage at the airport. It was Janfor’s day off, and he had come up to the church building to spend a bit more time with them, and got roped into helping. They left the keys with him as well as our tickets, which they had already bought. He met us, had already figured out the time of the next train and the track, and helped Michela and I load the suitcases onto the train; he was such a huge help. I don’t know how we would have managed it all without him.

One Last Gelato

It's not a proper day in Italy without getting gelato at least once. (We might have had it more than once some days...).  So, the last things the girls and I did before packing up to leave Milan was stop one last time.  My usual choice is one scoop of chocolate and one scoop of strawberry, but this particular shop's specialty is peach, so I tried that in place of the strawberry since I'd had it several times already.  It was wonderful of course.  Michela was adventurous and got lime and sedano.  Both of us were trying to remember what sedano means in Italian--it was familiar to us both but we couldn't place it.  I didn't get it looked up on my phone until she was tasting it.  Oh.  Sedano is...celery.  Fortunately, the lime flavor was very strong, but the celery was still there.  It was interesting (she let me try a bite).  And so the time has come to leave Italy.  I am so grateful to have had this chance to catch up with people I loved and to remember everything I loved about my life when I was here.  

Return to Via Tesio

It’s weird to return to somewhere you used to live; so many things are exactly the same, and so many things have changed. Now, there’s a subway stop right across the street from my old apartment. That sure would have been convenient! Of course they didn’t get that done until after I moved away… It did make it easier to pop over and walk down my old street, though.

I had an attic apartment in the middle of three buildings within the gate of number 11; there was a small elevator up to the fourth floor, but only stair up to the fifth floor where I was. I took the stairs all the way up anyhow a lot of the time for exercise, but that last floor was a pain when carrying groceries. My studio apartment was nine square meters; it was one room with a kitchenette and fold out bed and a bathroom, along with a small balcony. A huge fir tree was just outside, so tall that I still wasn’t quite at the top. Despite its size, it was perfect for me at the time; I was only a year out of college and didn’t own much anyhow so one room was plenty.

Other than the subway stop, nothing’s changed at all on Via Tesio.

My Youth Group Kids

After the fellowship meal, the Shorts and I walked down to the castle along with “i ragazzi” (can be
translated ‘the young people’, ‘the guys’, etc).  These are the kids I taught in Sunday school and took
to camp and bowling and all when they were in middle school; when I met them they barely knew each
other and it was wonderful to watch them build relationships over the two years I worked with them.  
I’ll probably always called them “i ragazzi”, but now, nine years later, they are all in their twenties,
ranging from 20-25. I’m officially old now.

I’m proud of them and the people they are becoming.  

Matteo was the baby of the group; he was 10-12 while I was there.  Now he is twenty. He is still very
active in the church; he’s on the rotation to lead the communion every fourth week.  He has now been
dating Francesca, a girl from the church in Vicenza who is now in college in Milan, for over two years.
I remember her from the Christian camp we all attended back then, as well.  They make it over to
Vicenza to worship with her family and home congregation pretty frequently, too. This past summer,
they returned to camp to be counselors themselves. I hadn’t known that before seeing them this time,
and it nearly brings tears to my eyes to see one of the kids that I drug off to camp years ago now
completing the cycle by mentoring younger kids.  

Rovelyn and Rodalyn are cousins;Rovelyn was part of my little youth group from day one, when she
was about eleven.  Rodalyn came later, near the end of my time in Milan, but in time to go to camp
with us in 2009. Rodalyn is now twenty-five and works in a restaurant; she comes to church
occasionally but definitely needs more encouragement (her parents have stopped attending, but her
aunt and uncle are still very active, so they keep trying.)  

Rovelyn is now twenty-one and is in her second year (high school lasts a year longer here in Italy than
in the US, so most people start college at age nineteen or twenty) of university for mathematical
engineering. She always been a good student, and I’m so glad she’s doing well in college.  

The Shorts were visiting in Italy a couple of years ago, and Lewis sent me a message on facebook
messenger that Rovelyn had decided to be baptized, and then, a bit later, that Nico had decided to be
baptized as well.  I was so happy to hear about it even as it was happening!

Janfor and Nico are brothers who had just arrived in Italy from the Philippines when I met them.  The
third brother, Ever (Nico’s twin) was still with family in the Philippines at the time, so this was my first
time meeting him.  Janfor I mentioned in my previous post; he’s doing well as a cook in a restaurant.
Unfortunately, he’s the one of the group that very rarely comes to church (he’s usually working
Sundays even if he wanted to, but he’s not all that interested at this point anyhow), but with his family
all there maybe someday he’ll see the value again.  

Nico and Ever also work in restaurants; Ever was a Christian before coming to Italy, and Nico, as I
mentioned earlier, was baptized a couple of years ago.  It was a bit weird meeting them; Ever looks
just like Nico did when I knew him, while Nico has started wearing glasses and has done his hair
differently. The twins have been saving up their vacation time and are hoping to make a trip back to
the Philippines to spend Christmas with their grandparents this year.  

The only one I didn’t get to see was Manuela; she now lives in England (her older sister had married
and moved there right after I left Italy, so it wasn’t a surprise that Manuela followed her to do university
there), where she is an active member of the church.  Rovelyn has talked to her more recently than I
have, and said she’s graduating from nursing school this month.

In all my years in some form of ministry, these kids were the best part.  It was great to see them all
and how they’re doing now.

Fratelli di Bufala with Friends

On Saturday night, we went to the restaurant, Fratelli di Bufala, where Eric, one of the leaders of the church of Milan, and Janfor, one of the middle school students I worked with at the church (who is now twenty-five...I’m not old, am I?), work. Janfor’s parents, Domingo and Lydia, came, as well as Robert, Evangelina, and Rovelyn (another of the kids I used to work with).

The food was great; I had hoped to have time for a traditional Italian pizza, and this one did not disappoint. Of course, there were many choices as to toppings; I chose just as I would have when I lived here--eggplant and zucchini. I wish these toppings were available elsewhere…

Tammy and I went and stuck our heads into the kitchen to see Janfor working (she’s done it before when visiting, and as long as we stay out of the way, no one minds--but then Eric is the one in charge of the kitchen, so what he says goes). He didn’t know I was coming--he saw Tammy, and then I popped in too, and he gave me a huge smile. It was so good to see him doing well in his job; he’s worked his way up from a dishwasher as a teenager to now being one of the main cooks. He’s come a long way from the shy, silent child hiding behind the hair he kept flopped over his eyes that I met eleven years ago.  

After dinner, he got the chance to come out and say hello on his break, and I got a picture with him and Rovelyn. It was a busy night, though--many Italian go on vacation during the month of August, and it was Saturday, September first. We theorized that many had just gotten home and found they had nothing in their fridge and decided to go out to eat. He was called back in soon, but there is a big window into the kitchen from the street so we could watch him working for a while. He certainly never moved that fast back when I told him to do something. :)

Nine Years Later

It’s a beautiful day to see friends in Milan.  Surprisingly, it’s not even that hot, and though it's cloudy, we haven't been rained on yet. The cathedral is still as incredible as always; it's been nine years since I've been in Piazza del Duomo, but I suppose that's not much time for something that's been around since the 1300s. I’ve really missed this place and these people.

Dinner at Marisa's

While in Milan, I am staying with Marisa, one of the church members from the Via del Bollo congregation.  She was always the 'mom' of the church; as Tammy puts it, "cooking for people is one of her love languages."  During my time in Milan, she often invited church members into her home for meals and fellowship time; I have a lot of good memories of sitting around her table.  

Tonight was another good one; I actually arrived first (Marisa had texted me where to find the hidden key), as Marisa and the Shorts had gone out to visit Carlo, Marisa's husband who is now in the nursing home and got back just a bit later.  Maria Luz and Matteo also joined us! 

She had made some minestrone, pizza, and pasta ahead of time so we could have a quick dinner once we all got there.  Even though we were all exhausted, it was nice to spend some time over a meal together.  

Taking the Scenic Route

Hello everyone!  Sorry this post is coming a bit later than you might have expected it.  I thought I’d have wifi more often than it has turned out while I was in Italy.  (Although I’m posting this a few days later than when I originally wrote it, I’m backdating it.)

For those of you confused about why I’m mentioning Italy when you know I’m moving to Tanzania, let me explain:  From 2006 to 2009, I worked in Italy, mostly in the Via del Bollo church in Milan along with the Short family. They have now been in Tanzania for four years, and I am joining them there now.  They have found that for very close to the same price as flying directly to Tanzania, it is possible to break up the trip by stopping in Europe. So, they generally stop in Italy to visit the church there and all of our friends there, so I did so as well.

This was the first time in the nine years since I left Milan that I have had the chance to return;
when I left, I thought within a year or two at the most I would find a way back to see everyone, but then
I took a job in China, and it never worked out.  I have kept up with several people on facebook, but it’s
not the same as seeing them in person, so I’m grateful for this opportunity.

I’ll be in Italy until the 4th, when I will fly together with the Shorts to Tanzania, via a layover in Ethiopia.  

Autostrada del Sole (ITC Week 19)

Indie Travel Challenge Week 19: Road Trips

 For week 19, we’d like you to design the perfect road trip. Who’s with you in the car? What kind of car are you driving? What snacks are in the cooler? What music is playing? And, most importantly, where are you?

When I read this prompt, the first thing that popped into my head was  sunlight pouring in the windows, catching a glimpse of Orvieto, an ancient town built on top of a cliff, out the window as I head south towards Rome on the Autostrada del Sole.  Giorgia’s Girasole (Sunflower) is next on the playlist, and I’ve brought along a bottle of A.C.E. fruit juice. It’s hot outside, but the air conditioner is thankfully working at the minute. 

 Even the name Autostrada del Sole, the Highway of the Sun, Interstate 1, seems an invitation to find out where it goes.  It’s the backbone of Italy’s interstate system, running like a spine from Milan to Naples.  In between, it passes through most of the major cities of central Italy, including Bologna, Florence, and Rome. 

When I lived in Italy, I traveled every mile of it at some time or another, most of those in a large and crowded van (the rickety old gray Bible School van on our way to a convegno in Velletri, just outside of Rome; crammed in the back of the di Marco’s van with the Naples crowd as I bummed a ride down to explore Naples after another trip to Velletri) or else riding along with the Shorts to Florence, or again Velletri.  I guess those trips to the women’s retreat and family retreats held at Velletri really added up the highway miles. 

However, the thing all of these trips had in common was that I was in route somewhere, and I had a time I needed to be there.  And while the sights along the way are nice even in passing, it would make a beautiful road trip if I had the time to wander: a side trip to the independent country of  San Marino, parking and taking the tram up into Orvieto to see the famous old church,  fields of sunflowers with the Tower of Pisa floating on the horizon behind them, eating the original ragu (meat sauce) in Bologna, meandering off side roads to explore the small towns perched on top of hills in rural Tuscany, parking at Piazza Michelangelo for the postcard-picture view of Florence, passing miles of empire-era aqueduct just south of Rome, and finally taking my life in my hands driving into the chaos of Naples, with Vesuvius looming over the city.  Dozens of other side trips would be possible, if the time and money held out. 

Sadly, it’s been three years since I left Italy; nearly as long as I lived there.  I still feel homesick sometimes to walk across Piazza del Duomo in Milan.  I thought when I left that I’d find a way to visit frequently, but as always, life hasn’t worked out that way.  Life instead took me even further the opposite direction, to China.  My Italian is getting rusty as there’s rarely anyone to talk to around here. You would think that after living for three years in Italy, I’d have seen it all, but I only scratched the surface.  I could spend three more years and still not make it everywhere I’d like to go: I’ve never seen Juliet’s balcony or the ancient amphitheater in Verona, taken a cable car up over the Alps into France from the mountains near Aosta, visited the Borghese Gallery in Rome (I could spend three years just in Rome), or gone to the little republic of San Marino, and the whole mainland of Italy south of Naples is unknown territory for me.  I’ve been to Catania and Mt. Etna in Sicily, but making the loop around Sicily would be another road trip of a lifetime in itself. 

October 12th: Walmart Weirdness 4 or 5 (at least)

Aaaaand I'm back, with another installment of your favorite blog feature, Wal-mart Weirdness!

I know that some may think that if we have a Wal-mart here, things can't be all that different. And yet I think you can see from the following pictures that that's not quite the case...I never go to Wal-mart without a camera, because there's always some new oddity to enjoy.

First of all, the Chinese people have a slightly different sense of what produce would make a good juice than we do...today I found both corn juice and pumpkin juice. Now, I've seen corn juice around before--they also have corn candy and such; they seem to treat it as a fruit quite frequently. Pumpkin juice was a new one, though. It was relatively expensive, so that's my excuse for not buying some to try.

Another totally normal food here that we Americans never quite get used to is Chicken feet. I just don't see the big deal, as there's not much meat to eat, but they're as hot as chicken wings around here. They are added to soups, spiced and packaged as snacks, and available at every corner market.

This trip to Wal-mart was on a rainy Tuesday night; Season, Rebecca, Janice, and I had went out for supper and stopped by Wal-mart on our way home. Oddities in Wal-mart are even more fun when you have a friend along to point them out to.

Wal-mart is still Wal-mart, though. There's the same old neighborly announcement by the register with a picture and phone number for the manager. I find it interesting that they use his English name, Johnny, since 99% of the people shopping there are Chinese. Seriously, there's maybe twenty foreigners who even know that Wal-mart exists.

October 12th: Hot Pot Heaven

China is a big place (very close in size to the United States; some sources say one is bigger, some the other, depending on if you count the surface area of the Great Lakes or not), and so, like the U.S., different regions have different traditions and different tastes in food. Up north around Beijing, they eat a lot of breads and noodles and dumplings. Along the coast and south-east, seafood is naturally a bigger part of the diet. Hubei Province, where I live, fits in the Central-Southwest culturally and gastronomically. The locals aren't shy about putting the red chili peppers into anything and everything; one phrase we foreigners learn fast is "Bu la!" Not hot! Every one of us has had that moment when we realize we accidentally got a piece of pepper. First your mouth goes numb, and then you find yourself shoveling in rice and scrambling for whatever drinks are available (which often isn't too much, as the Chinese people don't tend to drink with food).

As hot as the local food can get if you aren't careful, the real center for spicy is Sichuan Province. The capital, Chongqing, is Hot Pot central. Sichuanese food may make most people sweat, but if you avoid the pepper flakes it's great. 

Janice, a Chinese friend and one of our FAO 'overseers', had introduced Season and Rebecca to a great hot pot place down by Walmart. They were dying to go again and I'd never been, so on a miserably rainy and muddy Tuesday night we took the bus down for supper. We ducked into a nondescript store front that in fact was under construction and picked our way around the buckets of dry wall mud to the elevator. When we stepped out onto the third floor I knew we were in a special kind of place: the inner wall of the restaurant is a cave with undulating stalactites and stalagmites. We walked by a maple tree with brilliant orange leaves and then under and around eight-foot-tall orange mushrooms to get to our table.

In this place, there is a burner in the middle of the table. On this is placed a divided bowl with two different kinds of soup bubbling away; the white soup is fairly mild while the red soup is full of spices. Then, there is a whole paper full of options; Janice check-marked all the possibilities we were interested in. It sounded like way too much food to me--she must have checked twenty things--but the others assured me that the plates were small.

They brought all of the plates to our table on a huge tray and arranged them on a shelf at the end of the table. One by one, Janice would dump the ingredients off into the soup to cook. Some were ready immediately and some needed to bubble a bit. She would add two or three things at a time and we would all share them before dumping in fresh plates of other things. We had all sorts of things: chicken, beef, tofu, two or three types of mushrooms (Rebecca's favorite), carrots, sweet potato, regular potato, bean sprouts, twisted hard cracker like things, cabbage, greens, seaweed, dumplings, a type of noodle, and plenty of other things. We all ate until were were stuffed--we probably could have done without the last couple of dishes. It wasn't unbearably hot, but we did finish off a two-liter of Pepsi during the meal.

Actually, for me, I ate slowly rather because the food was temperature-hot (fresh out of the boiling soup) rather than spicy-hot. The steam coming off of the soup filled the air like fog; Janice and Season teased each other by blowing it into the other's face. Anyhow, the point is that I understood Rebecca and Season's immediate obsession with the place.  My mouth is starting to water sitting here writing about the meal; I can't wait to be there again. Janice is supposed to translate the menu for us so we can go without the help of a Chinese friend sometimes.

October 11th: Psychological Monsters

I just counted it up...we're now in week 8 (out of 17) of the semester.  It seems like we just got started--I'm starting to get overwhelmed with all of the stuff I have to do!  I'm going to have to buckle down and stay organized and try to beat my personal besetting sin--procrastination.  Besides teaching my four writing classes every week (and all the piles of grading that come from them! This is a major area where procrastination can be deadly), I also have women's study group meetings Monday and Wednesday. On Wednesday, I am the teacher, so there's quite a bit of preparation there, as well as house cleaning and fixing a meal for twenty.  Friday nights I've been taking turns attending "religious discussions" on the east (my) campus and the west campus with Lee.  Sundays are an all-day time of great fellowship--meeting at Ron and Evelyn's on the south campus (although sometimes I visit Dale and Lisa on the central campus), then lunch with whoever can stay (often ten to twelve people), a couple of hours to crash in an unavoidable Sunday afternoon nap, then meeting at Colonel and Kelly's at five, then back to the south campus to Ron and Evelyn's for dinner (she usually makes some sort of soup and sandwiches--last night was beef and noodle soup, yum!) and one or two intense rounds of Settlers of Catan. 

And now I've accepted teaching one more class a week, an evening course in oral English for local middle school teachers that should last for ten weeks (the rest of the semester).  It does mean an increase in pay for the overtime hours, which was one motivation, but also it sounds like an interesting opportunity to teach a totally new demographic--teachers instead of students, who I would likely otherwise never meet.  I'm looking forward to using many of the oral English lesson plans I've come across but never been able to use in my writing classes, so it's a fun professional challenge as well.  I've always been a teacher, and it's a bit hard to imagine myself not doing something related to teaching or education; I've tried to steer away from teaching at a few points in my life but I keep coming back to it.  Being a teacher is just part of who I am.  And then, there's also the summer vacations...that doesn't hurt my love for the teaching profession at all, either.

The last two weeks we've been discussing descriptive writing in class, which I find is a lot of fun to teach. Today we began with talking about vocabulary for describing people and personalities--I introduced them to terms such as introvert/extrovert and open-minded/close-minded. Those of you who know me well know my fascination with psychology and psychological testing (I have a minor in psychology), so I took the opportunity to use a simple personality test with my students. There are ten horizontal rows of four adjectives, and you must choose which of the four words describes you the best. Afterwards, you tally up how many you chose in the A, B, C, and D column. A majority of A's mean that the person is a Controller, for B's, a Motivator, for C's, a Developer, and for D's a Stabilizer. Here are the descriptions:

Then, for their in-class journal assignment, the students answered the following questions:
1. According to the Personality Survey, are you a controller, a motivator, a developer, or a stabilizer?

2. Do you agree with your results from the survey? Why or why not? If not, which personality type do you think best describes you?

3. What do you think the world would be like if everyone was a controller? How about if everyone was a motivator? What if everyone was a developer? And what if everyone was a stabilizer?

4. How do you think you and your classmates can benefit from the variety of personality types in your class?

I've used others personality surveys before that I like much better and that I feel are more accurate (but then again, how much accuracy do you expect in ten questions?), but I had worksheets for this one and it fit the time constraints of the class perfectly. I may see if I can make some modifications or find a similar test that I like better before class tomorrow. I need to make more copies, anyhow. By the way, I was a controller. This assessment does fit my in-class personality as a teacher, but not my personality as a whole, as I am definitely an introvert. I'm not too concerned if the survey isn't terribly accurate; probably all the better, as it gives the students more fuel for thought to write about if they don't agree with it and go on to explain how they really are. 

After I gave them time to think over these questions and write in their journals, I got the chance to try a description activity that I've never had the chance to use before: monster art! I gave each students two pieces of paper. First, they had five minutes (okay, closer to ten...I have a lot of perfectionists) to draw a monster. Monsters work well for open-ended activities because there is no one way to draw a monster--it could be something with fur, or feathers, or scales; it could have two eyes or three ears or five feet or seven antennae; it could have wings or paws or hands or flippers. A monster could be a cute fuzzy thing from Sesame Street, or could be a shadow with flashing teeth from a Halloween thriller. After everyone had drawn a monster, I took them up, shuffled them, and then passed them back out face-down. Now, the students had to work in pairs. One partner would look at their monster, but keep it hidden from the other. Then they would describe it while the partner followed the description to draw it on the second sheet of paper. After they finished, then they could compare the original and the copy to see how well their description had enabled the partner to draw it. It was a good way to illustrate through experience how we can give someone else a mental picture through our descriptions. There were some very cute and creative monsters! I think the activity went well, and I think I'll keep it in my repertoire.

October 3rd: Fish for Sunday Dinner

 The long-awaited fall cool-down came to us over a week ago, but we haven't been able to enjoy it too much as it brought with it a solid week of drippy drizzling.  Today, however, was one of those crisp, clear, brilliantly sunny perfect fall days.  I wished I was hiking in the woods; the urge to be outdoors was nearly irresistible.

It was a good Sunday, following the normal pattern: in the morning, Rebecca, Season, and I headed over to Ron and Evelyn's house on the south campus for a morning meeting.  After the meeting, most weeks we all go out to eat together.  Eleven people gathered around two pushed-together tables in the small back room of a restaurant across from the south campus.  It was crowded, but the more the merrier when we can share good food with good friends.  The main dish was grilled fish.  We Americans tend to have quite a disconnect between animals and food--we buy our meat clean and packaged in plastic from Kroger's; it's easy to disassociate it from the animal it used to be a part of.  No such thing  here.  Just inside the doorway of the restaurant there was a tub of water with a board over top of it.  Jordan, one of the Chinese brothers, translated Ron's request for fish.  The restaurant owner lifted up the piece of plywood and plunged his hands into the murky tub, and came up with a squirming ten-pound fish.  "Bigger!"  So he dropped the first fish unceremoniously back into the water and scrambled for another.  The third pick met the requirements, so he tossed it over his shoulder onto the sidewalk by the door.  It gasped in the sun as we filed past to find a table.  The owner's daughter squeezed past us with a meat cleaver in hand.  Twenty minutes later, we had a perfectly grilled fish, with a marinade of onions and spices, in the center of our table. 

As everyone else settled in at the tables, Ron, Jordan, and I held a conference in the kitchen with the owner.  Jordan is Chinese, so he could write our order down for us--here, generally you write your own order on the pad of paper instead of the waitress doing it.  Ron has the idea that I'm good at ordering food, so I have now been promoted to the ordering committee at most meals.  My Chinese is still on a just-getting-by level, but I have learned how to say several of the normal dishes.  Today was a wonderful meal: besides the fish, we had a plate of sweet and sour pork, two plates each of eggplant and cabbage, potatoes and onions, scrambled eggs and tomatoes, lotus root, and a super-spicy version of chicken and peanuts.

Another Sunday dinner, a couple of weeks later than the one I'm talking about.  Of course, I should have got the shot before we ate all the food...

I spent the afternoon doing some stuff for BW's birthday, and then we had a meeting at Colonel and Kelly's at five.  The singing seemed especially wonderful today--several of my favorite songs.

September 1st: New Teacher Banquet

We are always happy to have our recruiters, Ed and Pam Mosby, visit Jingzhou during their travels in China. Of course it's nice to catch up, and I appreciate their encouragement in our work here. It's through them that I've been able to send a couple of newsletters back to all of you.

Another reason, however, why their visits are so popular is that the Foreign Affairs Office (my bosses) always organize the teacher banquets to coincide with Ed and Pam's visits. A dinner out with friends is always fun, but this is something special--we go to the King Kowloon Hotel, once of the fanciest in Jingzhou, for a special banquet.

We had quite a crowd this time--most of the returning English and Japanese foreign teachers were able to come, and Barry, the head of the department, introduced the newly arrived teachers. There are four new English teachers at Yangtze University this fall: Olivia, from Indiana; Paul, from somewhere up north, Connecticut, maybe?; Rebecca, from near Little Rock; and Season, from Jackson, Tennessee. These last two I look forward to getting to know especially as we have a Mutual Friend, and I'm looking forward to introducing them to the work here. There is also a new Japanese teacher as well as a new Korean teacher, Sunny.

Besides the good company, the banquets are a fun introduction to the kind of Chinese food we don't see every day. There are all sorts of wonderful dishes--a sweet fritter that somebody said has eggplant in it; a barbecue pork dish; spicy fried ou (lotus root) sandwiches; steamed bread with bacon fat filling; crispy fried chicken strips, and many other special treats. This is the third banquet, I think, that I've been to, and we usually have these same foods, but I've never seen them anywhere but at the King Kowloon. Writing this post is making me hungry; I think it's time to go in search of dinner!

August 30th: Back to Work

After one short weekend to recuperate, it's back to class today! I don't mind getting started, though. I've got a lot of plans for this semester, and I'm ready to get started! Like last semester, I'm teaching a Writing course for sophomore English majors. I have four classes a week: Monday at 8 AM (ick, too early--I am not a morning person!), Tuesday at 2 PM, Wednesday at 2 PM, and Friday morning at 8 AM again. My first reaction is to complain loudly that I have TWO classes at eight in the morning...but then when I think about it I realize I should be grateful. When I was teaching at a high school in the states last winter, I had to be at the school at seven, which meant getting up around 5:30 and leaving the house around 6:30, though I often
annoyed my mother, with whom I carpooled, by not getting going until more like 6:45. And that was every day...so two mornings with a class at eight, when I just have a ten minute walk to arrive, should be wonderful. But I'm whining anyhow... :)

This week in my classes I'm introducing myself and the course, and then I'm getting groans from the students on the first day by making them play the Name Game. You know, the game where the first person says their name and something they like to do (or whatever piece of trivia you ask for). Then the second person introduces themselves, "Hi, I'm Lucy," and also the first person, "...and this is Sally." The third person introduces themselves and the other two, "I'm Lucky, and they are Lucy and Sally." And so on, until the person at the end (me) has to remember all of them. I made them play for my own benefit, as I knew it would be a big jump start to me in learning their names--I used it in my geometry classes in the states, too. However, I found that this is my students' first semester together as a class--from here on out, they will be with this same group of students for all of their core classes for the next three years. They were still getting to know each other even in Chinese; they certainly hadn't learned each others' English names yet, so I think the game helped for them to start getting used to the English names as well.

As usual, I have plenty of students with the names that are popular choices among the Chinese students: Lucy, Linda, Jane, Rita, Jack, Tina, Sophia, Jenny, Sandy, etc. There's always a few interesting stories thrown in, though--I'm still trying to figure out Crab, Maple, Djinn, Lemon, YoYo, Bruce Lee, Witch, Sweety, and my personal favorite, Mes Zeathal. I've asked twice and still haven't quite figured out how to remember to pronounce that last one. It has all sorts of meaning built into it, I remember, but I doubt anyone but her will ever fathom it.

It's something we English teachers talk about among ourselves every semester--how should we approach bizarre names? On one side, your name is your name. It's their choice, and I should call them as they request. On the other hand, should we intervene in the case of offbeat names? After all, if this person continues to use their English name after they get out of college, either with their foreign friends or even with foreign business colleagues, it would be to their benefit to not be called Lemon. It just doesn't convey a very competent vibe...or, in the case of Witch, could even be offensive or embarrassing to some. Already I can see that I probably won't be a hurry to call on her in class, because I'm a bit uncomfortable calling this beautiful young girl "Witch." Hey, maybe she's on to something... One way to get out of class participation! But it is a bit of a question to consider--my student Timmy last year consistently spelled his name Timy. Should I respect that he spells his name as he wishes (as we do in the United States--we have many ways to spell the same name)? Does he spell it that way as a way to personalize it, or does he just really not know how to spell it (I suspect the latter)? Sometimes I do try to point out spellings like his that are likely to result in mispronunciation--an American reading Timy would likely say Time-y, not Timmy.

All of my classes seem to be well-mannered and friendly so far--I was surprised by their willingness to overcome their shyness and take advantage of the time I opened up for questions. Most of their questions made for good discussion: Why did you decide to move to Jingzhou? Have you had any culture shock yet? What did you do over the summer vacation? There's always a few that dare to get a bit more personal, though: "Tell us about your boyfriend!" I'm glad they seem to be willing to talk, at least!

July 22nd: The overadvertised EXPO

After all of the hype and advertising and talk, I still wasn't quite sure what to expect from the expo.  I had seen online some of the fantastic architecture that showed each country's creativity, but I didn't have any idea what was inside, really, or what else there was.  I did know that there are normally long lines to find out what's inside. 

Common logic might suggest that I should have gotten up early and arrived as it opened to beat the crowd, but I didn't.  I stayed up late last night fighting with the piece of junk computers at the hostel, and then this morning I needed to do laundry (really--couldn't wait, unless I want to wear these pants for the fourth or so time tomorrow).  I just wasn't in the mood to be rushed.  I finally made it out of the hostel just in time for lunch, and wandered next door to an Italian restaurant.  I'll write about my memory trip to Italy in another post.  I really only had a vague idea as to wear the expo even was; I had glanced at a map yesterday, and it seemed that line 8 of the metro might get me close.  Line 8 crossed People's Square; I could walk halfway and then take a metro one stop to there and change, or I could just walk the whole way, which probably wouldn't be any further by the time you take into account all of the stairs and passageways in the cavernous metro stations. 

I did get distracted a bit on the way, but it was a distraction of the best kind.  I knew that somewhere along the road there was an international bookstore, and I stumbled upon it on my way.  I couldn't resist spending awhile just browsing and reading the back covers, and feasting my eyes on all of the old favorites and future reads and classics...it's the little things in life that matter sometimes, and it's been a long time since I've seen an English bookstore.  The only way to get English books in Jingzhou is to order them off of Ebay out of Hong Kong or abroad.  They had a whole section of discount books for 15-18 yuan each--about two and a half dollars.  Coincidentally, I finished the one book I brought with me this morning, and I have several long bus rides, train rides, quiet evenings in hostels, etc. to go, so I bought a few that seemed fairly lightweight: a book of ancient  Chinese poetry that is part of the basis of Taoism (I might as well learn more about Chinese culture as I'm experiencing it; that was the topic of my last book, too), Pilgrim's Progress (one of those classics that, as an English major, I shouldn't admit that I've never read--I find that long trips such as this are a wonderful catalyst to reading those rather ponderous works that I get distracted from normally), Thomas Hardy's Far From the Madding Crowd (same principle as the second book; also, the title seems appropriate in light of the daily frustration of being one of 1.3 billion), and one just for the pleasure of it, Wilkie Collins' The Moonstone.  My enjoyment of nineteenth century British literature comes through again!

Finally I proceeded to the expo.  It turns out my instincts are quite good; the metro station I guessed as being in the general vicinity turned me out right next to a ticket booth.  I bought a ticket (no lines, walked right up--so far, not the madhouse I was envisioning) and entered.  There weren't too many people in this part of the expo.  I think I had the right idea, coming at three in the afternoon: it doesn't close until midnight, so I've still got hours to explore, but the eager beavers who showed up early have gotten overheated and wandered off by now.  And it was hot--the beautiful clear weather continues, rather miraculously for China, but the sun beats down with an undiluted intensity.  So bright, and my sunglasses are broken. 

I was in the boring part of the expo, the pavilions run by various corporations.  The best part was across the river, so I had to make my way to one of the ferries to go across.  It was a long hard walk--not unreasonably far, really, and I shouldn't have been tired, just starting out--but my heel spur has been getting progressively worse the past few days.  It had improved a lot, but today I wondered if I was really going to be able to walk around this thing--just getting to the ferry felt like walking on knives. 

Anyhow, I did make to the ferry, and across the Huangpo river, and the first pavilion I came to (I planned this) was Italy.  There was quite a line, but this was one I didn't want to miss, so I joined the queue.  Good thing I didn't realize just how long it was at that point, but it moved fairly quickly, although I probably waited for forty minutes or so.  Don't get me started on waiting in lines with Chinese people; I might say something unkind.  Speaking of Chinese, there were a lot fewer foreigners than I had imagined; I often found myself surrounded by only Chinese people.  I finally made it inside, and there were displays of things Made in Italy: a ferrari, a vespa, high-fashion shoes, fancy dresses, super modern chairs and lamps (a mobile of each was hanging from the ceililng).  Above the escalator, there was a cross section model of the Florence duomo.  On the second floor there was a restaurant, but it was a bit expensive and besides I'd already eaten Italian today.  I did get a small glass of limoncello, though, for old time's sake.  I sat down to rest while I drank it; there was no where else to sit in there, and the pain in my foot was to the point that I nearly felt sick.

The late afternoon light was perfect as I left, so I decided to stay outside for a bit and take pictures of the amazing pavilions each country had constructed--really, the adventurous architecture was the highlight.  I know you'll agree once you see the pictures.  Across the way was Russia, Croatia, Slovenia.  I went into Croatia because the line was short, but even a short line was a bit of a waste of time as there were mostly just pictures being flashed around, which I could have seen from the door. 

To be continued...

 *The pictures are of one of the main buildings, which looked like a flying saucer; the UK pavilion; and obviously, the Croatia pavilion

July 20th: Trains and Time

I woke up a bit before my alarm went off at seven thirty to brilliant sunlight streaming in the window.  It promised to be a beautiful day.  I showered, repacked my bag, checked my email, and checked out of the hostel about nine; my train was at 11:05 and I wanted to be sure to have enough time. 

I had slept well (not always the case for a backpacking traveler in trains and hostels), and my bags didn't seem to weigh me down at all, although I was carrying my hiking backpacking, my (large day pack) purse, as well as a small shopping sack with some squishable souvenirs and food for the trip.  I stopped by the little convenience shop at the corner that had become my favorite during my days in Beijing--the motherly lady who runs it is fair; everything has a reasonable set price; she doesn't tell foreigners an inflated price as many do in touristy areas.  I bought some cookies, crackers, and drinks for the trip.  I was a bit disappointed in the weather, but not for the usual reasons.  It was clear with a bright blue sky--an incredibly rare occurrence with the smog of Beijing--and it wasn't even too hot.  In fact, and this is something to celebrate on this trip--I don't think I've broken a sweat all day (and it's already dark now).  The disappointment was that this was the best weather I'd seen so far, and I would be spending this glorious day on the train, where it wouldn't have mattered if it had rained buckets or been so humid you can't breathe.  Oh well, that's the chance you take.  I did wish just a bit that I could go poking around the Great Wall again to see it writhe across the mountains in this clear light. 

On the main street just off the hutong where the hostel is nestled, I flagged down a taxi. "Beijing nan zhan." "Beijing South Station."  We drove through Tiananmen Square (pictured), by both new and old high rises, ancient gates and temples, clusters of apartment complexes in various states of repair and decay.  Everything seemed to sparkle in the sun; even the dismal side roads with their laundry and rust and piles of trash at the end seemed cheerful. 

The south station sparkled brighter than nearly all of the rest--a soaring modern building of steel and glass.  The expansive canopy  and the entrance ramp framed a cross section of distant building, so colorful and varied against the chrome outline of the station.  Inside, it seemed even more massive.  Twenty-something waiting areas stretched out in an area that must have been two or maybe even three football field wide.  I bought some food for the trip--there was a French bakery near my assigned waiting area (19) where I bought a pizza stick and a chocolate-chip pastry like I haven't seen since I was in Italy.  I had left myself more than enough time after all, so I sat in the waiting area and basked in the sun pouring in the skylights that made up half the roof. 

Chinese train stations are run like airports--you must arrive at least an hour before your departure time; in fact, if you arrive less than ten minutes before, they may not let you board the train.  You must go through security, including putting all of your bags and luggage through the x-ray machine, and you go to a gate instead of the the platform.  They call boarding, at which point you present your ticket the same way you would present a boarding pass, and are then allowed to the platform to board.  Train tickets go on sale ten days ahead of time, and often sell out quickly; you can never just show up at the train station and expect to get a ticket.  Even though it seems a bit much to me, being used to the easy-going European system, I have to admit it's very efficient. I suppose it's a necessity in a country with as much traffic as China. 

The cheaper overnight trains were sold out when my friend's sister went to buy a ticket for me, so I had to take the faster, fancier day train--Shanghai in only ten hours.  Eurostar level, at least, if you're familiar with the European rail system.  Quite a bit of leg room; wide aisles, bathrooms fairly clean (although still no western toilets, of course, but I'm used to that by now).  Like an airplane, they even played in-route movies: "Fearless," a movie about a legendary Chinese martial arts hero that turned out the be quite good even though I didn't understand much of the dialog, and Rush Hour 3 (in English with Chinese subtitles, although the volume wasn't very high so I didn't understand much more of the dialog than in the first one) featuring Jackie Chan and that-black-guy-who's-not-Will-Smith who always plays the doofball sidekick in cop movies.  Chris something, maybe.  Chinese people are very proud of their own--the most famous Hollywood actors here are of course Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee.  Other than movies, the tv played an endless array of advertisements and documentaries about the ongoing Shanghai World Expo 2010.  I plan to go to see it just to say I did, but I'm nearly tired of hearing about it.  It's everywhere--China seems to be wallpapered with expo propaganda.  It's a national obsession.  You can't even say the word Shanghai anymore without launching immediately into a discussion of the expo.

The only discomfort on this train is that there are no armrests on the seats--I feel like I can't completely relax because there is nothing to lean against; if I fell asleep I think I'd fall out in the aisle. I have an aisle seat, so I feel like I'm sitting a bit on the edge of my seat to avoid being too close to the person next to me. 

I enjoyed a daytime trip to see a bit of the countryside on the way--we've passed through cities, farms, mountains, crossed rivers--most of the trip was sunny as I'd left Beijing, but also we passed through periods of clouds, and now that it's dark I rather think it's raining.

All the corn fields and rice fields are lush and green this time of year.  I especially enjoyed passing through Nanjing just at sunset.  The silver skyscrapers contrasted nicely with the pale purple evening sky, and the most distinctive tower among them caught and reflected the last golden reflection of the sun.  The lights were just beginning to come on.

And now, we're coming into Shanghai.  All I see so far is the irregular pattern of lights in windows in the high rise apartments that fill the windows on every side; I'm looking forward to spending a few days in a huge modern city--I've seen history in Beijing; now I'm ready to see the future in Shanghai.