Beijing Airport...Still.

And here I am at my new home! Oh…wait…this is the Beijing airport…still. 

So, we had a tight layover in Beijing.  And our plane from L.A. was late getting in.  And we had to collect all our luggage and walk with it through customs.  And it’s a major capital city of a huge country airport, meaning correspondingly huge.  If any little thing goes, wrong we could miss this flight…

Well, of course it did.  Oddly enough, it was the first group of us who got our luggage who missed the flight.  Somehow, we missed the place where we were supposed to return out luggage for the flight to Wuhan, and ended up out in the main part of the terminal.  We went to the check-in desk, but were sent to another, then to the ticket counter.  Oh, and in the middle of this, we had a Chinese man trying to be helpful and leading us in circles.  The long and short of it is, nine of us missed the flight.  Those who had taken longer to get their luggage and were behind us did not go the wrong way and made it, go figure.  

There was another flight an hour later, but it only had one free seat. Kevin happened to be first in line, so he decided to try and run for it.  Apparently he made it, because he never came back; we waited in the same area for a good while just in case.  Unfortunately, there were no more flights after that until the next day.  We managed to change our tickets to one person at 12:30, three at 1:30, and the last four at 5:40.  By the time we finished all that, it was 7:00 pm.  So…eighteen and a half hours to go for me (1:30) and even longer for the last group.  Definitely qualified as longest layover I’ve ever had… To make it even more fun, we were stuck for the night, with all of our luggage. 

We piled all the luggage together around a group of three seats near the ticket counter; a few people stayed to guard it all while a few of us did some recon work.  Laura found that we could get passwords for the free airport wifi from the information booth.  Kelly and I went exploring downstairs for a better home base; we found a quieter bank of chairs with plenty for everyone, and also the hourly lounge, which had beds and showers.  In the end, we all cheaped out and stayed out of the lounge.  We set up home base on the last row of seats.  It turned out to be nice that there were so many of us; we could take turns guarding the luggage, sleeping, and wandering off to find food, shop, etc.  Samuel found a row of outlets around the corner, where we could recharge our laptops.  

Although no one was particularly excited at another night in an airport, we made the best of it.  I got to know teachers who would be at different schools, who I probably would never have made much connection with otherwise.  We played balderdash.  We ate some particularly unappetizing Burger King food (my last meal in the U.S. and my first meal in China were both Burger King…sigh; I’d hoped for at least a Taco Bell in L.A.), we sponge-bathed, we took exploratory walks, and skyped relatives.  We watched a group of window-washer rappel from the roof, cleaning the glass wall of the terminal as they swung back and forth. Finally, I got through to Ed, so he could inform those who were supposed to be picking us up our new arrival times; however, most of the schools were ahead of us and had already called the airport and got the information themselves.  Sigh, the things you can do if you speak Chinese… 

And finally, we did make it to Wuhan.  And all of our luggage made it with us.  And you know the funny part?  The group who made the original flight didn’t get their luggage until the next day—it waited to fly with us!  So, an adventure either way around. 

The Traveler that Went Back in Time (ITC Week 25)

If you could travel anywhere in the world, in any era, where would you go? Where is that place that has always fascinated you and you’ve always asked yourself how it would have looked like ages ago?
 

As if there wasn’t enough to explore in this world as it is right now, let’s throw in time travel—don’t just settle for Florida, lay on the beaches of Atlantis.  Already seen the pyramids?  Go take a look at the Colossus of Rhodes.  Have dinner in the city of Maccu Picchu, buy souvenirs in the marketplace in Athens and watch to see if Aristotle walks by, stroll through an Angkor Wat teeming with monks.  Or go the other direction: take a shuttle up to the mining operations on the moon; celebrate as Tokyo reaches a population of fifty million; take a road trip on the TransAfrica interstate system. 

With not only space but all of time thrown in, where would I go first?  Of course, as a Christian, first-century Palestine would be high on my list; I’d like to witness the miracles of Jesus, and sing praises with the church in Antioch.  The tabernacle in the desert God instructed Moses to build, the tower of Babel going up, the construction of the arc, and the flowers in the Garden would all be wonderful sights.

Outside of Biblical places and events, I became an English major because of Beowulf; I’d like to see what life was like in the ‘Dark Ages’.  The treasure of Hutton Soo must have been spectacular before it was buried.  I doubt castle life was as romantic as we make it out to be, but I’d still like to explore one that doesn’t have a gift shop. 

My next stop would probably be tea with Jane, or maybe Charlotte: would regency fashion look good on me?  Could I attract the attention of a rich gentleman?  I think I’d enjoy teaching in a Belgian boarding school and trips to Bath, at least for a while. Too bad Mr. Darcy is fictional. 

I’d love to know my ancestors; time travel would give me the chance to watch the seasons change with my Native American ancestors, and learn how to live off the land—I’d finally find out what tribe Lizzie was from in Illinois.  I could step off the Anne to join the Plymouth colony with Edward Bumpass, or build a home in Jamestown with the Clayes.  I could ask Mexico’s mother where she got that name, and try to convince the Castlemans not to sell Lot #5 in the brand-new settlement of Nashville; it would be worth a lot of money if they’d keep it in the family and pass it down to me!  I’d go give Priscilla Mobley a hand with the cooking as she raised seven boys alone, and find the Dortch’s village in England. 

After I’ve finished exploring several thousand years of recorded history, visiting fictional places would be the next great frontier.  I guess Hogwarts would be overrun with gawkers if we could do that, though. 

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. 

Train to the Future

Today, I am on a train to Rapallo, near Genova.  Matteo and I are going to spend a few days with Nadia and her family at their house by the sea.  I've finally come out from under the clouds that covered Milan, and it is a beautiful evening here in the mountains we're crossing—or, we would be if we weren't mostly in tunnels.   Matteo will stay until Saturday; I will probably return to Milan Wednesday evening or Thursday morning.   I have things I need to work on before going to the convegno in Firenze next week.  It's a little strange—while writing this I keep thinking in Italian and translating back into English. 

I can't get out of my head today the book I just read—A Touch of Betrayal by Catherine Palmer.   It's one of series of four, of which Tammy has and I borrow the second and third.   I read the second first, but the third one I read twice because I wasn't ready to get out of the story yet.  I think the titles of her books are a little overdramatic, but I enjoyed the stories.  The books are Christian romance novels, which I love, even though I don't always want to admit that, being a serious former English major and all, that I like such fluff.  But, it's wonderful just to read for the pleasure and escapism of it, something I just don't do as much as I used to. 

It's wonderful, too, to read books written about people who live in my "real world," –people who follow a code of morality and whose relationship with God is a part of day-to-day life   It's something refreshing to me in today's culture where God and spiritual things are completely left out of popular entertainment.  I wish we were more open to talk about our spiritual lives.  That's probably the most important reason I have for wanting a husband someday—I want someone to be mutually accountable with, someone to pray with, to talk about my spiritual ups and downs, to encourage each other.   I want to raise my children to be truly integrated—not to compartmentalize spirituality from other aspects of life; I know I often have.  Growing up, it seemed we so rarely talked about our faith.  We prayed together at meals, but almost never at any other times.  I want to be more comfortable sharing that part of life together.   I'm hoping things will be different now that Dad also had become a Christian,  We need to take advantage of the spiritual high the family is on now to talk more openly.  It's also something I need to put into my work here in a much bigger way.   I'm more of a project person—I plan things, do thing, teach—but I'm not as good at building deeper relationships.  I get along well with everybody, but often at a fairly superficial level.   I need to find a way to work in more discussion of where people are spiritually and their highs and lows; I need to work towards more meaningful conversation.  It is difficult when I only see most of the church members briefly after the service on Sunday.   I need to make it a priority to find a way to spend more time with individuals outside of church activities; I would like to invited people over to my place for lunch, but I haven't yet as I didn't know if people would really want to come all the way out to my place; it's out of the way for most of my friends.  But, maybe they would. 

Back to the book I mentioned earlier—the series is set in various parts of Africa, and is about three sisters and a brother, as adults; as they find love, find God, etc.  My head has been in Africa all day.  I would love to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro.  Now, there is a motivation to get in shape!  Grant, the man in the story, is an anthropologist living with the Maasai; he is studying their stories and myths, and trying to write down all these important parts of the heritage before the children all go off to the city and the ancient culture is lost.  It sounds like a wonderful work.  I've though the last few years that I would go back to grad school, and then teach English literature.   But, it seems so meaningless in the grand scheme of things, to be wrapped up in the minutiae of academia.  I want to be involved in missions; I would like to study languages, cultures—to travel.  And yet, somehow it seems selfish or unwise to live my life like I want to live it.  What I really want to do is, after next summer when I finish my commitment here in Milan, is to find somewhere else to go to teach English (or whatever other job is available), and learn another language.  I think I could learn Spanish fairly easily, now that I speak Italian—I can already understand it pretty well.  I was reading online the other day that English teachers can earn quite a bit of money in Korea.   However, I really need better certification.   And, I don't know if I'm brave enough to move to Asia, to a country I've never seen, with such a very different culture.   But, somehow, I would like to learn another language, and I want to travel. 

There are people who save up some money, and then just go travel—backpack around the world.   Why not me?  Then I think—it would be more responsible to get a job, earn money, settle down—but why?  You only live once.  The only thing really stopping me is wondering what mom will say.   Everybody will think I'm crazy—but I just want to be free.   And I don't have a husband or children, my parents are still young and in good health—so to who is it irresponsible?  But how do those who backpack find the money to do it?  I, so far in life, haven't been very good at making money.  But it has been worth it—I wouldn't trade the time I've spent doing mission work in Italy for a high paying but lifeless job in an office.   Somehow, I want to see the world.  And then, after a few more years, I do want to marry and have children.  I often feel that biological clock ticking—the older I get, the more I look forward to having children.   I've come across several websites on homeschooling lately—it's something I'm very interested in.  

And then there's finding someone to marry.  Reading these romance books make me wonder if I'll ever find anyone to feel that strongly about to feel that way about me.  I daydream, but in reality—I'm not the type you find in romance novels   I know God has a plan for me, and that he will send the right person into my life, so it isn't something that I spend a lot of time really worrying about.  It's just that sometimes I feel lonely for someone I haven't met yet.   Usually I'm fine—I'm happy being single, and I'm not at a point where I want to settle down.   But sometimes—it seems to be about a month out of the year or so—when it seems I feel lonely more than usual.  It hasn't been too bad yet this year (it was downright depressing last year, around May), but still I want someone to talk to, to tell all those little details of everyday life.  I can talk to Mom about most things, but as close as we are, there are still things she doesn't understand—some, because we are of different generations, and some because I live in a different culture.  She doesn't know the people I know or how they think, or the ups and downs of life as a missionary.  And besides, it's expensive to call the U.S.!

Stopping to Write in the Piazza

The sun is at just the position to filter through the red brick and stucco buildings on the east side of the piazza.  in the afternoon light, the white facade of the opposite building (a church) shines against the cloudless blue sky.  A light breeze is blowing, and at least there is the shade.  It seems a little cooler than it has been.


I am sitting on the steps of the Istituto degli Innocenti in the Piazza S.S. Annunziata, listening to the water splash in the small fountain just out into the piazza.  The stone is stained with rust on the sides where the water has bounced off for so long.  An identical fountain is situated on the opposite side. 

Th focal point, however, of the piazza is a large statue of a man on horseback. A sign posted at the base reads:

"Equestrian monument to Ferdinand I, Bronze Giambologna--1608. The sculptor was eighty years old when he created this statue that was cast by his pupil, Pietro Tacca, using bronze from the cannons captured from the Barbareschi during the North Africa expedition led by the Knights of the Order of St. Stephen in 1607.  


To commemorate this event, the following words, dictated by Giovanni Villafranchi, were engraved in the girth of the saddle: De metalli rapiti al fiero Trace [from the metals taken from the proud Thracian].  The device of the sixty bees swarming around their queen on the bronze plaque (added to the base in 1640) on the side facing the church, was suggested to Ferdinando by Scipione Borghese (who found it in Book XI of Naturalis Historia by Pliny) to extol the generosity of the grand ducal government." 

Anna told me another story about the statue: instead of looking forward down the center street, which has a magnificent view of the Duomo two blocks away, the statue's head is turned so that he gazes searchingly into the corner.  Supposedly, there was a woman he fell in love with, but couldn't have as she had already married.  He never forgot her, and when his statue was erected he requested that it look towards the corner--where her window opened onto the piazza.  In this way, he would always be near her. 

I like this piazza because it is open, uncrowded, and quiet except for the buses that drive across the west end, by the church.  I especially like the view framed by an archway over the road when I look to the right from the Ospedale degli Innocenti: through the gateway, there is a succession of golden-stuccoed, red-roofed buildings so typical of the city, and beyond them, a hill dotted with villas.

I suppose I should have begun this journal on the plane or in the airport, the mark the beginning of this fresh part of my life; however, I am glad to start it now, and spare myself the recounting of the jet lag, caffeine headaches, and the adjustments and frustrations of the first few days.  I have been here for three and a half weeks, and I know I have plenty of adjustments and frustrations to go, but I am beginning to feel comfortable.  I bought this little book yesterday at the San Lorenzo market.  I know it's touristy, but after only three weeks the touristy things and places have not yet lost their appeal.  Besides, I love the smell of leather; that is something you certainly can't find in one of the chain bookstores.

[Note while typing this up, years later: I have never before nor since been bothered by jet lag much at all; I just stay up one night and get myself right on schedule without too many problems.  However, that time I had terrible headaches and fatigue; probably was a combo of the jet lag and the sudden and complete deprivation of Mello Yello, which I had drunk massive amounts of for years up until the day I flew to Italy.]

Today was my last day at the Istituto d'Italiano in Via Martelli.  Since the first I have planned--well, with the recommendation and request of the other workers-- to attend a semester of the 'corsi per stranieri' at the Universitá di Firenze.  However, the course does not begin until the second of October, so I did three weeks of language school at the Istituto.  I certainly did not want to sit around at the bible school being of little use to anyone for over a month. 

After three weeks, I am making progress in Italian, although it seems frustratingly slow right now.  I did well enough on the entrance exam to be placed in the second-level class--which was a good placement during the two-hour grammar half of the lesson.  However, the conversation class in the second two hours was over my head.  There are some disadvantages to studying alone. 

The sun has now lowered enough to be shining into my eyes from the direction of the duomo, and the steps are no longer shady.  I think I will go through the arched road and look at the gardens that should be a block in that direction, and then catch the 6 bus for Scandicci.

________________________________________________________________________________



Instead of going the way I planned, I turned to the right when I reached the corner of the piazza, through a long tunnel of sorts.  I wandered along past the Archaeological Museum, and over onto Via Laura.  Luckily, I am following the route of the 6 bus, so I will be able to wander further since I don't have to walk all the way back or find some other bus route.  I kept walking until I came to a large park, which after looking at the map, I think to be the Piazza M. D'Azeglio...In a city, I am always happy to find large trees and the smell of grass.  There are two large fenced sections: one, with a playground for young children, the other full of teenagers playing soccer.  There is a green-and-turquoise carousel on the far side, but it isn't running today.  Looking at the map, I should be very close to the Jewish temple with its sea-green dome.  I'll tell the story of our rainy Saturday spent at the temple some other time.  I feel like I'm beginning to get a feel for directions in the city.  The trick is to always know what direction the Duomo is.  Time to wander on...I wish I knew what time it is; my cell phone batteries are dead.  

Exploration

We circled Brussels for the better part of an hour before we finally landed.  Then, we rushed to the train station to wait another hour for our train; we arrived in Verviers at about two in the afternoon. Verviers was absolutely beautiful even in a misty rain.  We got a lot of strange looks as twenty-nine people drug their suitcases through streets, busy with people shopping. 


Last night I went with Leah and Katy to L'Europe, a great little coffee shop/restaurant just down the street.  They got a type of milk coffee (I can say it, but I don't remember how to spell it); I tried a sip of Katy's but in only conformed that I am not a coffee person.  It looks good, and I wish I could drink it, but it's just too bitter to me.  Leah suggested we make it a weekly thing--that every Tuesday that we're in Verviers we will go down to the coffee shop for drinks and talk.  And the last time we go, we'll dress up in whatever new clothes we've bought while we're here.  

I got a little time this afternoon to explore by myself while; I went and got an ice cream after I accidentally went the wrong direction.  It was wonderful, and it was fun because I was able to order in French, and never spoke any English.  I read the sign and figured out what must mean one scoop.  My pronunciation was probably bad, but he understood me.  I'll definitely be going back--the ice cream was unbelievably good.  It was softer, creamier, and richer than what I'm used to in the States.  Then I made my way around the long way to the GB Super and the post office; in the grocery store, I was humming along with the music playing over the loudspeakers for a few seconds before it occurred to me that it was a bit strange that they were playing Marks Wills "Don't Laugh at Me."  American country music, in a little grocery store all the way across Belgium--it seems like in the U.S. we have every kind of entertainment industry, and we get almost nothing from non-English speaking places.  Well, shirts with French words or jewelry with Chinese symbols are popular, but nothing that really means anything. 

I bought some ketchup (they have Heinz here), some more notebooks, a birthday card for Kathleen, and a card that it a birthday card but has a little dog like Jack on it that I'll send to Papa and Nanny anyways. 

We all went to a park with a huge white gazebo for a devo tonight.  It was nice to sing again--it's been a long time, as there wasn't much this summer. 

Today I read Moliere's Tartuffe for the modern literature class.  It was funny, and not that long.  It was maybe forty pages, but easy to read, so I don't know why everyone's complaining so much.  I love the book we have for the class; there are so many great things in it.  It's a Norton Anthology's Words Lit Volume II; I wish I had more time to read it all.   I really think that I will buy every anthology I can before I graduate college.  

I want to find a copy of Pride and Prejudice in French, and maybe one of Charlotte Bronte's books, probably The Professor, since it's set in Belgium.   Tomorrow maybe I'll poke around in some of the bookstores in town, and Mandy wants to try the ice cream and I said I'd go with her. 

Well, I guess I will try to get some sleep.  My pillow is very hard and flat, but got one of the extra blankets to prop it up.  WE have class at 8:30 tomorrow morning, so I guess I'll head to the room.