American Girl inher Mongolia

I'm Writing @ A Mandala of Amanda

2009-10-12T14:28:00.000-07:00

I have moved. Read about my life and musings post-Inner Mongolia at:

http://amapola5.blogspot.com

much love,

amandala

at every end there is a beginning

2009-07-21T19:09:00.000-07:00

I'm afraid to say that this American girl isn't in Inner Mongolia anymore. And this American girl doesn't plan on going back to Inner Mongolia anywhere on her calender.

Everything regarding getting Nina the Pug went smoothly. She got spayed, micro chipped and licensed yesterday, so she is officially an Albuquerque dog. Less than 4 hours after I picked her up after her surgery, she was caught nosing through the trash for a chicken bone. She is doing fine.

Prof. Ned and I are like a wide river that has diverged into two streams. We've chosen to separate, remain friends, but ultimately go our separate ways. I miss having him around, but feel honored to have had him accompany me half way around the world for a year.

Near future plans are to eat lunch, drink tea, watch movies and giggle with girlfriends. Spend time with my parents and two brothers. Finish my application for an MA program to begin in the spring, in the meantime substitute teach, or waitress. I'm enjoying riding my fast road bike around, and I've been savoring American foods like chips and dip, macaroni and cheese (thank you mom!) and mint chocolate chip ice cream. wow, all things with dairy that will make me fat.

The blogging experience has been wonderful for me, and I hope to continue it in the future.

This is the last post for American Girl inher Mongolia.

it makes me sad to write that, but at every end there is a beginning, and my writing will continue in another form, in another place.

If I begin a new blog I will post the forwarding url, on this blog.

Thank you all for reading.

Peace and blessings,

Mandy

first reactions back

2009-07-18T13:09:00.000-07:00

I’m back in a familiar place, in the southeast neighborhoods of Albuquerque, close by the University of New Mexico, surrounded by old tiny homes and paved bicycle trails that weave through the hot mesa and highways. I’m in my favorite coffee shop hangout. The walls are crowded with colorful art for sale, ceiling fans whirl above, and the dreadlocked hippies, glasses-wearing intellectuals, and fixed-gear bike riding hipsters sit at tables around me drinking their black coffee and musing over their laptops. I feel comfortable in my skin, even though my legs are hairy and I keep reminding myself to buy a disposable razor. I’m typing on my trusty 6 year old laptop that’s been sitting in storage for a year. I’m thankful it works fine, even though it’s old granny slow, and is heavy to carry around. The keys are indented to my hands and it’s free and easy to type. It’s comforting to have all my documents and pictures through college on this laptop, and I look forward to adding more happy images and thoughts of my life to the hard drive.
My first reactions to being back in the States are:

1. Americans are a lot more considerate than the Chinese. The flight attendents were so nice to me about having Nina on the plane. Servers at restaurants are friendly and precise. I don’t mind tipping when I receive such friendliness and a comfortable ambiance when I eat.

2.The ease of communication. It’s nice to be able to speak my mother tongue and have everyone understand me. I don’t miss saying, "Wo bu dong" all the time. (I don’t understand).

3. The unfairness of prices at Target—meaning the prices seem too low. Target provides an air-conditioned store, carts and baskets to use, organized shelves, friendly employees and simply, attractive merchandise at a very low price. It seemed so unfair to me to pay one dollar for a pair of colorful socks, and five dollars for a good pillow considering the material and machines it took to make it, the transportation cost from China, the hands that put it on the shelf, and all the other services provided to me the shopper that I listed above. I realized that I never thought about this before, and I imagine most Americans don’t worry about fair trade on their shopping expeditions to chain stores.

4. The cleanliness of the streets and the loss of bicycles, vendors and noise from the streets.

All in all, I feel glad to be back, although a bit disoriented and jet-lagged. Such is life on the way "home", right?

Tibet Journal July 5th-12th

2009-07-17T09:01:00.000-07:00

*this journal details Ned and my recent trip to Tibet day by day. I usually don't write in a diary entry form, but I didn't want to forget anything about this trip and I wanted to shine my own light on such a mysterious and unknown place in the world for many.

Monday, July 6th

Last night, we left Tongliao with an entourage of students, friends and the ever faithful Tomstone who was to accompany us to Beijing and help us with our bags. It was a sad, tearful goodbye. At one point, we said our good-byes, we were on the train, but the group of students were still crying and waving on the platform. I was crying inside the train. Ned had to write a note and put it up to the window that read, "Go home. You are breaking our hearts." Finally, the train pulled away, and we looked out at the corn fields, grassland and roaming sheep one last time.
At 6:50am, Ned, Nina, Tomstone, and I arrived at the Beijing North train station from Tongliao. The train was on time, Nina was cooperative and we successfully navigated the busy platform with the help of a porter with a cart.

Phantom, an employee of World Care Pet Transport was waiting for us with a van. I was pleasantly surprised that she was on time and so helpful. We all loaded into the van with our suitcases and bags, (Nina sat on my lap) and we drove to a small animal hospital to pick up a Vetrinarian. After a brief walk with Nina and lots of holding Nina up to a window full of cats pacing and anxious for their morning meal, the Vet was ready, and we all loaded into the van again. We arrived at World Care Pet, and I was pleased to meet Kiki Chen, who I have been in contact with for the past several months about taking Nina to America. She instantly tried to sell me a $130 carrier for Nina, telling me that her present carrier would not be acceptable for the flight. I cringed at the price, but really had no choice but to be cooperative and fork over the money. It was a tearful goodbye as we left Nina, who stared confused and upset towards the window looking for us. With her three walks a day, Purina dog chow, a doggie swimming pool, and a pet play hour, I’m sure she’ll be fine.
After dropping off Nina we raced to the airport to check in for our flight to Chengdu. For the second time that morning we had to fork over $130 for overweight luggage. We were carrying all our possessions from Inner Mongolia, and we didn’t take into account that there would be a strict weight regulation for Air China, not to exceed 20 kilos a person.
We said goodbye to the trustworthy Tomstone, (I cried some more tears) and hurried along to catch our plane.
Our flight to Chengdu was uneventful except for some turbulence that put me on edge. We had a predictable plane lunch of chicken and rice, and after eating I feel into an exhausted sleep for the last hour of the flight.

From Chengdu, we gathering our luggage again, and we had to re-check in, and present our Tibet permits. Our flight to Tibet was only an hour and a half, and we were fed snacks and juice and tea. Descending into Lhasa was a beautiful sight of arid, brown mountains and tiny specks of villages in scant green valleys. When we landed in Lhasa, gathered our belongings, and exited, I was struck by the bright blue sky and the puffy white clouds. I felt a bit dizzy and tired most likely from the attitude. We quickly found our guide who was holding up a sign that read, "Wel-come to Tibet, Amanda Beth." I was happily surprised to see my name, and not Ned’s because he planned the trip, and in all the places we’ve been picked up it always says his name. We met our guide, Sa Nam, a small brown, emotionally guarded young man, who wore prayer beads around his neck. We stopped to get bottles of water, and a young woman joined us in the van. Sa Nam told us the girl was the driver’s sister. As experienced travelers, Ned and I knew that was a lie. We drove along a wide new road, passing two clean, shallow rivers abundant with tall trees rising out of the streams. We stopped on the side of the road for a modestly sized watermelon. We were shocked to find out the price of a watermelon in Tibet is about four times more than in Inner Mongolia. We all sat in little chairs at a dirty table with Sa Nam, the driver and the girl, and we each ate two slices of watermelon. An old Tibetan woman came over and stood at a distance watching us eat. We gave her a slice that she took and ate by the side of the van. After that, we peed in the trees, and we continued on for about a hour to Lhasa. I was surprised to see so many Chinese soldiers with guns, and Chinese tanks and trucks roaring by on the narrow winding roads. We got caught in a traffic jam, and I watched school children walk by in uniforms. Some carried backpacks, some popsicles. They were all small and sturdy, with dark faces and colorful layered clothing. Old women passed by too, with their long hair braided in with pieces of yarn. They carried babies on their backs, and I saw one older woman carrying a whole desk strapped to her back, and another woman followed behind with a wooden chair strapped to her back, and on the seat of the chair was another large bag loaded with something else. I developed a headache in the van from the lack of air coming through the windows, and a little nausea from the stopping and going of the van. The truck in front of us was carting three cows. We had three skinny cow butts to look at for most of our journey.

When we arrived in Lhasa, I was surprised to see so many Chinese billboards and advertisements. The ubiquitous chains: China Mobile, Bank of China, and Dicos Chicken were all present in the city. As we winded our way into town my eyes were greeted by the magnificent Potala Palace. My students have all been telling me about this old, mysterious palace and it was wonderful to see it with my own eyes.

Finally, we tired travelers arrived at our hotel, Dhood Gu Hotel at 7:30pm. The hotel lobby was adorned by colorful tapestries, and old wooden furniture draped in woven quilts. Our room was decorated in the same fashion, with old wooden furniture painted with geometric shapes, dragons, flowers, pigs, and fire. We were happy to see two quilted, warm twin beds waiting for us to rest our tired bodies on.
We quickly hurried to dinner (as the restaurant closes at 8pm) and ordered an Indian meal with curry chicken, spicy vegetables, Daal, rice, and Masala tea. I had happy memories of India, and there were lots of "mmmms" of delight that echoed in the empty restaurant as we savored our Indian meal. Ned had a bowl of rice pudding for dessert and I went upstairs and plopped in bed and turned on the TV and found an old movie with Robin Williams. I starred exhausted at the TV, Ned propped up with a book, and a bit later I took a bath—the first bath I’ve had all year!
At bedtime I felt worried about Nina, and sad that she wasn’t snuggled by my side, like usual. I cried a little bit, and felt sad about leaving Tongliao, but exhaustion overcame by sadness and I quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Tuesday July 7th
This morning I woke up at 7am, to find that Ned had already been awake for hours, but had been so polite as to not get up and make any noise. He made coffee for him, and tea for me. We quickly washed faces, brushed teeth, and got dressed. We were out the door before 8am for a morning stroll.
The difference between Tibetans and Chinese is so distinct. Chinese tend to wear modern clothing, to always be chattering on their cell phones, to talk loudly and stare, and smile and frown openly at others. Tibetans tend to wear traditional clothing made out of natural fibers, and in layers. The women and men have long hair. Some had pale blue eyes. They wear lots of jewelry and are smaller and darker than Han Chinese. They come off as quieter, and emotionally mysterious. Ned guided me through a small cobble stone road where we saw vendors setting up to sell fresh yak milk and butter and meat. We made our way into a very smoky street where we watched Tibetans walk in a crowded procession chanting prayers and carrying flowers. Some were fully prostrating themselves in front of the temples again and again. Some people had a casual air about them, and talked to their neighbors and guided their pet dogs on a leash. Others were clearly involved in a religious ceremony and were twirling prayer wheels, chanting "Om Mane Padme Hum" and were in deep religious concentration. I had a hard time breathing in the smoky air from the abundance of incense and pine branches being burned for prayers. Ned and I circumambulated with the crowd for awhile. I took some photos, and we went back to our hotel to eat breakfast before our guide arrived.
We enjoyed the free breakfast buffet. I swear I’m Chinese now because I like to eat vegetables, beans and rice for breakfast. I supplemented the veggies and rice with a piece of toast with butter, and some more wonderful Masala tea. Ned had lots of bread and muffins, and two fried eggs. Afterwards, we rested for a half and hour, and then went downstairs to meet Sa Nam.
From our hotel we walked to Jokhang temple. Sa Nam bought the tickets and we went inside the enormous Tibetan Buddhist Temple that was built in the 7th century. The temple was very crowded with tight lines of Tibetans waiting to say their prayers in the little dark rooms with Buddha statues. Inside the temple, it was enormous, and as Sa Nam started to explain the difference between the kings, lama, buddhas and boddhisatvas, I thought to myself that Tibetan Buddhist is very complicated. The walls of the temple were painted with intricate landscapes and people and stories. The Tibetans purchased Yak butter at the entrance and were putting a dab into large candle holders as their made their way from room to room. The temple was very dark and smoky and the floor was slippery with yak butter. We went through two floors of temple rooms, and finally ascended the stairs to the roof of the temple to have a view at the brown, bountiful mountains, the bright blue sky, bright white clouds and the Potala Palace resting majestically in the distance. I felt fatigued from climbing the stairs and reminded myself that I need to take it easy in this altitude (more than 12,000 feet). We sat down in the shade and drank cans of coke and took in the beautiful view.
At about 11:30am, we went with our guide to buy tickets for Potala palace tomorrow. He dropped us off at our hotel and we bought chocolate bars and biscuits to compliment with tea for an easy lunch. Ned read and napped, and I wrote.
Again we met Sa Nam at 2:00pm to go to a monastery. The sun beat down strongly on us as we got out the van at the monastery. Instantly, a vendor woman cajoled me into looking at her booth of jewelry. Some of her earrings were appealing, but I wasn’t carrying a lot of money, and thought that the prices here would be higher than in the bazaar district in town. I gave her false hope, unintentionally as I looked at the earrings and she followed me up the hill with the earrings and a calculator saying, "How much, how much, tell me how much?" I politely shooed her away.
All of Sa Nam’s explanations about places we visit begin with, "Before the cultural revolution…." followed by a description, and then, "After the cultural revolution," followed by another description. I am aware that people who have gone through life-changing, traumatic incidents often speak in the before/after mode. The monastery had 700 monks before the Cultural Revolution, and now only about 200. As we meandered through large monastery complex, we couldn’t help but notice Chinese guards sitting on corners or on rooftops and the surveillance cameras that popped up at the crossroads. As obvious as this may seem, Tibetans are not allowed to keep a picture of the Dalai Lama in any temple, and if anyone is found with a picture of him, they probably will be sent to jail, or get into big trouble. Ned told me that some monks are actually Chinese spies, and in this way they are able to invoke fear in the other monks and report what goes on to their superiors.
I arrived in Tibet with an open mind about the Chinese occupation of Tibet. After all, Tibet has been a part of China since the 1940s. All I knew about Tibet was what I heard from the Dalai Lama, and the Dalai Lama has been exiled from Tibet for decades, so maybe his version of the truth isn’t accurate with how Tibetans feel today. On the flight to Chengdu I read an article in the China Daily written by a Tibetan monk living in Tibet. He claimed that he knows what the Tibetan people want, that the status quo is all right for everyone, and that what everyone wants is a stable, growing economy. He said Tibetans want peace, not conflict as the Dalai Lama wants. After I read it, I wondered if this monk wrote this article freely and honestly, or if the Chinese paid him off to write something pro-China and anti-Dalai Lama. The China Daily is a governmental newspaper, (no independent press in China) so who knows, everything could be fabricated.
Constantly passing by Chinese soldiers carrying large guns is frightening. The oppression of the Tibetans is so fierce and hopeless that is carries a heavy weight. I can read it on the faces of the people, I can hear it in the voice of our guide, and I can imagine how it carves veins of fear into the hearts of the people, when they think about their complete lack of power, freedom and independence.
Sa Nam told us that he escaped illegally out of Tibet and into Nepal, and stayed in Nepal for two years learning English. Then he came back to Tibet, and the Chinese never discovered him. We told him he is a very lucky man. If he was discovered he would be in prison.
After our walking, talking, and seeing lots of beautiful Buddhas, we went back to our hotel to rest. The high elevation causes me to feel more fatigued and hungry than usual. I bathed and read and used the computer downstairs. Ned and I shared a pot of Masala tea in the lobby. We went out after 7pm, to a Western restaurant called Dunya and we shared a cheese pizza and a yak enchilada with coleslaw on the side. Both dishes were delicious. The portions weren’t oversized and we enjoyed a so-so piece of apple pie for dessert. Afterwards we walked to the Potala Palace and took pictures and strolled in the park across the street people-watching, and talking. We waited for a light-show that an Indian couple told us happens at sunset across the street for the Potala, but nothing happened. We got back to our hotel at 10pm, and found that a good movie, "The Kite Runner" was on TV. It was depressing and well done, and afterwards Ned said "This world is unfair, unjust and uncompassionate." I felt exactly the same, and sighed and thought to myself that whatever I do in life, I need to contribute to making this world a better place.

Wednesday, July 8th
This morning I woke up late to Ned coming in from a morning walk. We had the morning off, and spend it resting at the hotel. We breakfasted: Masala tea and toast, mostly. I studied Chinese for about an hour, and then wrote for another hour. Ned went downstairs to use the computer. I ate half a snickers bar for lunch, and at 11:30am we went downstairs to meet Sa Nam to go to Potala Palace.
Potala Palace: wow! I am not clear about the complete history of the palace because it is so old, and our guide’s English is not that easy to understand. My Chinese students told me that a Tang dynasty princess lived there with a Tibetan king. It is a majestic white Tibetan castle that we entered after mountain goating it up 360 stairs, and these are not easy stairs, they are narrow and uneven and wide and old stone steps at over 12,000 feet. We took it slow, but the strength of the sun, and the elevation almost made me want to cry out.
Inside the palace are numerous Buddhas and beautiful paintings on the wall, just like in every other Buddhist temple or monastery we’ve visited. The Chinese are not good at maintaining and cleaning things. I got the feeling that the Potala Palace is treating more like a museum than a living, religious, historical relic. Everything was dirty and dusty. The glass shelves were smudged and the plaster walls were cracked. Some of the dust on the tall tapestries looked like it had been there since the 7th century. There were numerous rooms for the Dalai lama, thrones, carvings, paintings. My goblet was quickly filled by the plethora of visual images all cluttered together with intricate details and explanations in Tibetan, Chinese and English. I took lots of pictures to send to my students in Inner Mongolia.
Afterward, I rehydrated with grapefruit juice, and we went back to the hotel. I napped and Ned read.
We were picked up again at 3pm to go to another monastery. I bought a couple green apples from the Chinese fruit vendor across the street and we drove across town to a monastery where 200 monks live. Sa Nam told us that before the Cultural Revolution there were 5,000 monks there. Thankfully, this monastery didn’t have any steps to climb. We got to see monks in a courtyard arguing about scriptures. They do this kind of questioning every afternoon to strengthen their critical thinking skills about the Buddhist texts. It was fun to watch monks get angry and yell, but stay cross-legged and composed at the same time. We also walked through another beautiful temple and a prayer flag making room where these three poor little men were hunched over hand-printing pieces of cloth with ink painted on a metal stamp. They stamped and rolled ink onto the flags so fast. I asked Sa Nam if they get paid, and he said yes, but who knows.
Afterwards, I ate a watermelon popsicle, and Ned took some pictures of local people. We stopped at a dirty barber shop and Ned got a hair cut while I played photographer for his special photo collection called, "Hair Cuts of the World." We went back and read for a while and shared a king sized Twix bar, and drank some tea in the room.
Tonight we were invited out to dinner by our tour company. We went to a large hotel, where we were served yak butter tea and barley beer. The tea tasted sort of like buttery mashed potatoes in liquid form, and the barley beer tasted like Chinese Kumbucha. It was fermented and a little sour. I liked both, but Ned liked them more and drank 6 or 7 glasses of barley beer and a few cups of tea. I gorged on the Chinese/Tibetan buffet. I had rice, vegetables, yak meat, more veggies, spicy soup and yak yogurt and cauliflower and potatoes. The meal was so delicious that I was horrified to see that another American couple only had a large spoon of rice, some plain noodles and a small amount of spinach on their plates. What a shame. I wasn’t brave enough to try sheep’s lung or intestines, but I liked the yak yogurt.
We enjoyed a show of Tibetan dances, and at the end they invited people in the crowd to join them. Of course Ned and I acquiesced. After, we got a ride back to the hotel and went on a stroll around our vibrant neighborhood of vendors and prayers and beggars. Another good, full day.

Thursday, July 9th
Lhasa—Gyantse
I woke up with a slight stomach ache from my meal last night. I took it easy on breakfast and ate two whole-wheat pieces of toast and a cup of tea. We left Lhasa at 9am and spent the whole day driving on winding mountain roads to Gyantse. Every hour or so, we would stop at a scenic place to take pictures of the towering mountains, aqua-silver high altitude lakes, bright-blue sky, and the sprawling yellow fields of Canola flowers.
The driver drove fast but expertly along the mountain roads. Most times on one side of the road, there was a steep cliff that dropped off a thousand feet or more. There were concrete blocks and guard rails to guard vehicles from driving off, but not consistently. Ned asked Sa Nam, "Do people ever drive off the cliff?" Our guide responded, "Oh yeah. All the time." None of us were wearing seatbelts. Later at our hotel, I heard a British woman complaining to her guide that their driver was driving too fast and that there weren’t any seatbelts. She sounded so upset, that I wondered if I should be upset too. I guess I’ve been in China too long—I’ve been in too many crazy taxis and have never wore a seatbelt. Today driving safety never crossed my mind.
The scenery is beyond my scope of vocabulary and creative expression to describe. I will supplement with pictures. In many of the scenic places where we stopped to "ou and ah" and take photos, there were local Tibetans begging for money, or trying to get us to pay them to take a picture with their yak or baby lamb or fury mountain dog. At one stop, I ran to use the public toilet and found it to be the most disgusting toilet on earth. I had to watch where I stepped and how I squatted to make sure I didn’t get someone else’s number two on me. The smell was gagable. As I ran out of the door, an old Tibetan woman wanted me to pay her one yuan for using the toilet. No way! I thought. Maybe if she cleaned the place. All these vendors here are gangsters, I said to Ned. I don’t blame them really. They probably make more money hawking pictures with a yak then farming, or weaving, or making flutes or any other cottage industry that would sustain their families. I don’t like that tourism tends to strip poor communities of their livelihoods. Tourism creates generations of waiters, vendors, beggars, prostitutes, drivers and door men. I wanted to yell to them, "Go back to your fields and farm. Teach your children folk songs. Make drums out of yak hide—anything, but waste your days tugging at fat American’s t-shirts begging for ten cents.
Later, we stopped to take pictures of a glacier. There were one-room stone houses that flanked the glacier. They didn’t have electricity or running water. They all used solar power for their hot water. I stepped out of the van to see two American girls bombarded by a herd of rambunctious, dirty Tibetan children. I realized that one of the Americans brought lollipops to give to the children. She was trying to give each child one lollipop, but the children were jumping and tugging on her clothes and several grown woman also bombarded her demanding lollipops. This was too much for her to handle and she backed away saying, "Stop! Stop!" The grown Tibetan women angrily demanded lollipops for their babies. "They’re too young!" she replied incredulously. In the end the children tore the bag of lollipops from her hand, and a little boy proudly held it up in triumph. The children spotted me and were curious about my clothing. I was wearing a baggy skirt on top of baggy pants. They pulled on my skirt and reached up to touch my curly hair. I pulled on their dirty pigtails in return. They got bored with me quickly and ran off to hassle someone else. Wherever we are, beggars always ask Ned for money, not me. I have more of a tough attitude, and Ned’s more of a softy. It’s funny that children and complete strangers can read that about us in just an instant. One woman pointed at one of my bracelets and wanted to trade. It definitely wasn’t a fair trade. She had a couple plastic beads on a string, and I had a bronze bangle. "Bu. Wo bu xi huan," (No. I don’t like.) I replied pointing to her bracelet. She chuckled, surprised that I spoke Chinese.
We had a yummy, easy lunch of rice and vegetables at a Chinese touristy buffet, and afterwards I managed to take a cat nap resting my head on Ned’s lap with my body stretched out on the seat.
When we arrived in Gyantse at 4:30, we went a monastery and saw more incredible and fearful Buddhist relics. I bought some banana and watermelon bubble gum, we took lots of pictures and we pondered the Buddhist six stages of reincarnation—hell, purgatory, the animal consciousness, human life, bodhisattvas, Buddhas, heaven. I learned that the three Buddhist "sins" are represented as a snake—jealousy, a pig—ignorance, and a rooster—anger. Tibetan Buddhist is so complex and interesting to me.
Tonight’s dinner was a yak burger with fries, and roasted chicken with rice. Ned had a beer and I had a pot of jasmine tea. We strolled main street and found a net bar. We surfed the web for an hour, finding most pages to be fire-walled. Figures. Tomorrow we leave at 9am for another long, beautifully scenic drive to Shigatse.

Friday, July 10th
Last night was a rough one. I had trouble sleeping and woke up at 6am to a pounding headache and nausea, most likely do to altitude sickness. I slept all morning on the way to Shigatse. When we arrived, I fell onto one of the beds and watched a couple movies on the laptop that our friend Tomstone burned for us, and practiced Chinese.
I knew that all I needed was to rest and to hydrate and I would feel better. I tend to push myself to the limits until my body forces me to rest. At 2:30pm I was feeling significantly better and Sa Nam took us to a restaurant where Ned and I ordered meat momo soup, potato momos, a bowl of green dal, and two orders of garlic naan. We had a pot of tea and I had a banana lassi. All this may sound like a lot of food, but the portions are small, and require rice, bread or noodles to make it a "real" meal. Regardless, we couldn’t finish everything, and hiked up to see a monastery after lunch with bloated bellies.
At the monastery we got to listen and watch the monks of the ashram chant and pray. Many of the monks are just boys, around the age of ten or eleven. They were laughing and pulling on each others robes and playing games. There were piles of red, felt shoes that the monks wear outside the prayer robe. I wondered how they would reclaim them because they all look exactly alike. They all have an assigned space to sit and pray and they keep their thick, yellow blankets on their spot. The young monks ran in acting like school boys, with their giggling and fighting, but after five minutes of solemn chanting, they were relaxed and attentive. We saw a lot of Tibetan pilgrims sitting in the shade and eating their zamba (barley bread) and dried yak cheese and drinking homemade bottles of fermented barley beer. Men and women both wore turquoise earrings and colored yarn in their hair. Babies were expertly tied to grandmother’s backs using a simple long piece of cloth. I tried to memorize how their wrapped the cloth around themselves and the baby so that I can use the same method one day when I have a baby.
After the monastery we went back to rest in our dirty, noisy hotel. We went out around 8pm to hunt for a small dinner. We found a local noodle shop that had pitchers of green tea and long, plastic tables. When we entered the young waitresses all starting giggling and pointing and shouting, "hello!" They were surprised to find to spoke Chinese, and I ordered us a small bowl of noodles and a small bowl of jiaozi. Both dishes were simple, but after we added vinegar and red peppers, they were very tasty. When we left it was raining, so I hailed a taxi cab. The driver scammed Ned as expected and we paid double of what we should have paid. We watched a movie together on the laptop and afterwards I wasn’t tired yet, so I read until 2am. I’m a night owl and now that I don’t have to get up early by body clock is resetting itself. Three more nights without Nina, I told myself. I miss my little dog!

Saturday, July 11th
I was rearing to get out of the noisy, dirty hotel this morning. If I wasn’t so hungry I would have eaten the greasy egg and untoasted, white bread they gave us for breakfast.
We left Shigatse at 9am and began our long six hour drive back to Lhasa. I put my head on Ned’s lap and lied down on the seat. I slept through the morning, only waking up to gaze up at the extraordinary scenery around me. We saw two car crashes, one that must have happened right before us—a big blue cab lied on its size blocking most of the narrow road. People had gathered and were carrying baskets of vegetables from the truck to the village. There were a lot of giant tour buses on the road with us. We’re lucky we didn’t end up stuck behind one, not able to get through because of the wreck.
We lunched at a small, Tibetan restaurant where we met a nice, Swedish family and conversed about travel, teaching and world languages. We ordered spinach and yak, and a bowl of noodles and a bowl of rice. Noodles for Ned, rice for me of course. The afternoon was more driving, more napping, and a stop at a Tibetan Buddhist nunnery. We walked in the Stupa to find about ten nuns eating man tou (steamed bread). The smiled serenely and offered us some bread. Ned said, "Bao le" (I’m full) which made them all laugh. The energy was very peaceful, and there were friendly, flea-infested dogs and cats that napped in the shade and numerous pots of colorful flowers.
On our way into Lhasa we stopped for watermelon on the side of the road. We shared it with our guide and driver and an ancient old man who was collecting watermelon rinds in a plastic bag (maybe for a pig?). I was happy to return to our wonderful, Dhood Gu hotel. We ordered a big pot of Masala tea instantly. We were dismayed to find that our room was on the fourth floor since walking up stairs in this elevation feels suicidal, but the hotel manager told us he saved this great room for us. I understood what he meant when I pushed back the curtains to find a terrific view of the Potala palace from our window.
We enjoyed our tea in the lobby. A bit later, Ned read and I did practiced Chinese for an hour.
We went out later and had a great dinner at a hotel called "Snowland Hotel." We both had salads, and naan—a delicious type of Indian tortilla with hot butter. I had tandoori chicken with dal, and Ned had steamed yak momos, and a butter dal with butter tea. Yes, Ned is a man who enjoys his butter. We haven’t eaten salads and Indian food for over a year, so we were so excited and ate until we were about to burst.
After we went into a net bar and used the frustratingly slow internet. Kiki and her Pet Company had sent me pictures of Nina at the kennel, and I received an email from my friend Charlie. The email world pulled me out of Tibet and for hours afterwards I had a lot on my mind, feeling as if I had time- traveled somewhere else.

Sunday, July 12
This morning was our last in Tibet. Ned felt a bit sad about leaving, and he expressed plans to bring a student tour group back with UNM Taos perhaps. I simply felt exhausted and looked forward to finishing the four more flights I needed to take to be able to rest and process my journey not only through Tibet, but through Inner Mongolia, through teaching, through Dalian, Harbin, Beijing, and Thailand, too.
We spent the morning at Norbilingka, the summer palace of the Dalai Lama. It was vast with gardens and beautiful alters to Buddhas and elaborate rooms for the Dalai Lama to spend his time. He hasn’t been back in 60 years, but his rooms and thrones are still maintained with the hope that he may return any minute.
We ate lunch at the Snowland hotel again. It was so delicious, we just had to go back! We ! shared a Thali plate with Yak, of course more butter naan and butter tea for Ned, an organic salad and a soda for me. We ate until we could have been rolled out the door, strolled back to our lovely hotel, gathered our bags, checked out, Sa Nam met us and we took our last scenic drive to the airport about an hour away. The most spectacular part of the driving experience is a long tunnel that the Chinese created by blowing dynamite through a mountain. The tunnel literally goes through a mountain. Talk about efficient without any respect to nature, very Chinese.
Our flights from Lhasa to Cheng Du, from Cheng Du to Beijing were uneventful, long and boring. I didn’t have anything to read, and I was sick of listening to the same songs on my Ipod. I spent the time spacing off and writing some in my journal.

Onto Beijing we go!

wherever i go there i am

2009-07-09T07:21:00.000-07:00

I'm in Tibet, in the town of Gyantse.

I have many things to be thankful for.

1.Being here in this beautiful, sacred landscape.

2. Being healthy.

3. Being able to access my blog in Tibet.

4. Everything going smoothly with transporting Nina the Dog to Beijing. She's staying at a swanky place. They only feed them Purina dog food and they even have a doggy swimming pool!

5. Feeling like I did great work in Nei Mongol, and mourning the ending, but moving on, to a different, happy life in New Mexico.

6. Being with Ned, who makes me happy.

7. Eating Yak enchiladas!

No pictures or big posts for now, as I am posting from a seedy net bar. lots of thoughts and pictures to come.

~amapola~

A Chinese Bureaurocratic Miracle

2009-07-04T07:42:00.000-07:00

I now possess a document that is the secret key to allowing Nina the Pug to ride the train from Tongliao to Beijing. I had no idea obtaining such a document would be so difficult. When the Vetrinarian didn't show up yesterday or this morning like he promised, we got nervous and had our friend Sun Peng call him.

Today I learned a few things about Chinese bureaurocrisy.

1. Only people with power get privileges.

2. Every transaction has a "you scratch my back, I'll scratch your's" attitude

3. Nobody wants to help you unless you can do something greater in return for them.

4. Nobody wants to do business on the weekends or when they are playing majhong.

5. Simply being American has great influence.

6. People in administrative positions will attempt to evade you at all costs, so as not to have to do any work.

7. There are unspoken rules/laws for Chinese people different ones for Foreigners.

8. Don't ever plan to take a pet abroad from China. It is too much trouble.

This all being said, Nina is the luckiest dog alive in Tongliao, maybe all of China.

Long story short: the Vetrinarian evaded my calls for "a necessary paper" he told me about months ago because he knew it would cause him some run around. After I showed up at his office today he felt an overwhelming sense of obligation to help me because I am a foreigner, and because he believes it is his "destiny" to meet and help me. So the man goes out of his way, and we spend about 3 hours driving around, calling people, and picking up Chinese hoodlums with power who go into governmental departments and get official seals stamped into Nina's Inner Mongolian Vaccination book. The last stop was the train station, where I have a paper saying that Nina is allowed to travel on trains with me up to 3 days.

My friend Rita accompanied me and did all the talking. I just sat there and kept saying, "xie xie" thank you, and gave the vetrinarian a 50 yuan note, ($7) that we had to force on him for his troubles.

Rita was adament about me understanding that what was occuring was a Chinese bureaucratic miracle.

"If you were a Chinese person, this would not happen!"

"You are so lucky. you need to invite the animal doctor to dinner."

"he is such a kind man. he is the only person who will help us."

Rita told me everything in China is corrupt. She said nobody will help you with paperwork or official things unless you are family or have a lot of money, or have some kind of connection that requires obligation to help another, as in a teacher, or an important person.

I didn't realize that the document that the Vet went to all the trouble to get for me was necessary for Nina to travel on the train. If I didn't have it she could have been killed, and I would have been fined.

Thank goodness I have it. I breathing a sigh of relief. Everything should go smoothly at the train station tomorrow.

Money Transfers and Mosquitoes

2009-07-03T19:44:00.001-07:00

Today is our last full day in Nei Mongol. Know in English as Tongliao, Inner Mongolia.

Last night was difficult. I was awoken by mosquitoes and about 7 or 8 bites. I turned on the lights several times during the night after I awoken by buzzing to locate and smash the little flying vampires. It took awhile for my eyes to adjust to the light. Nina would wake up and gaze at me with a look that could have only said, "what are you doing?"

I managed to locate and smash two mosquitoes. My blood rests as evidence on the wall.

I've also been bothered by the heat. I've never appreciated air conditioning more, now that I don't have it. Yes, we were given an air conditioner for the bedroom, but of course, it doesn't work.

It's really hot here, so hot it bothers me to walk, to do anything that requires any energy output. Summer's no fun with this heat. There is no escape from it.

I'm still waiting on the Veterinarian to bring over a transportation paper for Nina. I'm so ready to be done doing business with Chinese people. Nothing feels efficient here. People won't make appointments, or set times to meet. They make promises, and then don't show up. There are numerous rules to do things, but nobody seems to follow them, or let me know how things are done. We've gone to the train station twice to ask how we should go about bringing Nina along. All we get is, "It's okay. It's allowed," and "No, it's not allowed."

It's beyond frustrating.

So, hopefully the Vet will show. I'm hiding Nina in a thin sheet and carrying her like my baby when we go through security. When we get to the waiting room, I'll discretly put her in her carrier. I'm so nervous something will go wrong, and they'll refuse the dog to go with us. Time is tight. We have to get Nina off with the WorldPet company when we arrive, and then make our connection to the airport for out 11am flight to Lhasa that morning.

I'm praying to Ganesha the Remover of Obstacles, and St. Christopher, the Patron Saint of Travelers, to guide us through safely and without incident to Monday evening when Ned and I will be safely landed in Lhasa, Nina will be boarded, and we'll have made all our connections.

On a good note, I sucessfully wire transfered all the money in my Chinese bank account to my Wells Fargo account in America. I feel like a hardcore international traveler now that I've sucessfully wired money around the globe, and will have flown my dog with me half way around the world (fingers crossed).

I wanted to keep my awesome yellow Bank of China bank book, but they wouldn't let me. So sad. It was my favorite document.

A Dental Cleaning

2009-07-03T04:39:00.000-07:00

Today my friend Rita and I had our teeth cleaned at the local clinic that belongs to the university. I don't have medical or dental insurance in the States, and since my last cleaning was about a year ago, I decided to put a Chinese teeth cleaning on my to-do list.

The dentists, or hygenists, whoever they were had just arrived back from their lunch/rest period. They were wearing normal clothing, and casually put on their white Dentist jackets when they arrived. The dentist chairs looked about the same as in the States. The hygenist showed me that she was using a new drill bit to work on my teeth. She screwed it on the drill, and begin to buzz away at my teeth. At certain points the drill bothered me and the sensitive parts of my gums. It was more uncomfortable than a cleaning in the US, but it was a lot shorter. I told Rita to tell the hygenist that I didn't want any pain, and she translated back to me that they replied,

"Don't worry it will only like a seismic earthquake." That was the rough translation (with the help of Rita's phone dictionary) and it didn't give me any comfort.

After the buzzing away, the hygenist sponged some stuff inbetween my teeth near the gums, told me to wait 10 minutes and then rinse it off.

The whole cleaning lasted about 10-15 minutes.

Rita went next, and was very nervous. It was her first time to get a dental cleaning. She pressed her nails so hard into her arm that she had marks afterwards. She agreed it wasn't that bad, but said it hurt a little. Her mother told her that cleanings were bad because they would take away from the tooth's natural protection. The hygenist told her that was false, and to get a cleaning once every 6 months.

They hygenist told me to brush up and down, not in circles like I have been doing, and to be more gentle when I brush.

All in all, the cleaning cost me $5 each. A good experience, and no cavities.

The Overnight Train

2009-07-01T00:05:00.000-07:00

Last night Ned and I took the overnight train from Dalian back to dear ol' Tongliao. So far this year I've taken
(7) overnight trains of 12-14 hours in length.

They're not that bad. If I can get a sleeper ticket (which I have 6 out of 7 times) then I fall asleep before midnight, and wake up at 7am to a new day, and a new city.

Last night we were in a train car with hard sleeper seats, meaning they cost $15 a ticket, and in each compartment there are 6 beds--two rows of three. It's almost like summer camp when you board the train. There are people with luggage reaching up high to store it on racks, there are children, there are bags of noodles and chicken feet and candy to snack on through the trip. Some people bring their thermos and slippers. There is a ladder at the end of the beds, so that the person in the middle or high bed can climb up. Each person gets a pillow and a blanket. Last night our bedding was blue with printed white flowers on it. Who knows the last time it was washed.

There are two tiny chairs facing a tiny table for each compartment, and if you don't want to sit or lay down on your bed you can sit in the chair and look at out the window. There are curtains and a ceiling fan. Every body takes off their shoes and stores them under the beds. Most men are drunk with funny grins and blood-shot eyes.

Chinese trains are almost always on time, and very orderly, so the a ticket collector will come by and collect your ticket and hand you a card with your seat number on it. About half and hour before arrival, the ticket collector will come back again and give you back your orginal ticket, and you give him back the card.

I've taught myself to fall asleep almost anywhere, so as long as I don't have something extremely worrisome on my mind, I drift off to sleep. I find the rocking rhythm of the train to be soothing. Last night the windows were open and the cool air was flowing into the cabin. I was sleeping in the middle bunk. I was slightly bothered by the stink of feet and the occassional snore from below me, but I was too exhausted to stay awake for long.

I woke up at 7am the next morning. Everybody was awake in my compartment. There were a couple teenage boys in the bottom buke laughing about something. Ned was sitting in the chair looking out the window at the rolling farms going by. It was a beautiful sight to see--the corn fields and trees, farmers herding sheep and goats, a dog herding at the opposite flank. We arrived in Tongliao at 8am to heavy rain. We have 5 more days here in Tongliao, until we take the overnight train again to Beijing.

Dalian, the Pearl of North China

2009-06-29T03:54:00.000-07:00

Today: free breakfast, me: Chinese style noodles, rice, salt vegetables, broccoli, a dumpling. Ned: western style omelet with bacon, shrimp Baozi and toast. Both of us had REAL coffee ground beans from a machine.

Then, a taxi ride, two 50 minute trips on the light rail, 6 hours of walking, a snickers bar, two bags of wasabi peas, two bottles of water, a misty, rocky beach, two trips on the sightseeing bus at Jinshitan beach.

We toured through a maze of rock formations, and followed trails along the beach. The fog was so thick we couldn't see where the rocks stopped and the water started.

we left our hotel before 10am, and arrived back at 6pm. No dinner yet, I'm exhausted. I've got watermelon juice on my face and my toes ache.

We found an Italian restaurant last night called "Olive Garden" but it's not the chain, and to our amazement the food there was actually good! it wasn't Chinglish, and we had real mozzerella on our pizza. I had a glass of wine and Ned had draft beer. Before our food came the waiter brought us warm rolls that didn't taste sweet, like all Chinese bread. We ordered a Greek salad with real Feta cheese. we were so happy we ate everything so fast.

We haven't eaten any fish yet, and this is supossedly the place to get it good and fresh, but I don't like the way the Chinese smother everything is sauce, and the all the restaurants have their menus in Chinese, so we end up ordering off the pictures, and you know, the pictures can be deceptive.

I think tonight the mozzerella pizza is on both of our minds.

Dalian is weird. There are no bicycles here, and motorcycles are illegal to sell. It's all cars and buses and skyscrapers. Our Tongliao is a different world completely from this city. We already miss the donkey carts and fruit vendors.

It's nice to be in a more modern place though, mozzerella cheese and all.

Corruption

2009-06-26T20:22:00.000-07:00

Last night Ned and I went to eat dinner with our Pakistani friends in their dormitory.

Their dorm rooms resemble an American dorm: two beds, a tv, a table, a bathroom, two closets, small shelves. On each floor there is a kitchen for cooking. This is much more than the Chinese students have. They live 6 to a room, without a tv, table, private bathroom, no showers at all in the building, minimal closet space, and no kitchen.

Our Pakistani friends: Jackson, Harry and Sufi made us a large, wonderful traditional Pakistani meal including chicken kabobs, roti--a flat bread, rice, this tasty spicy chicken tomato dish, pakoras--spicy potato patties, and a salad of tomatoes and cucumbers. We sat on two twin beds pushed together and ate the big meal on the bed.

We inquired about the life of Pakistani students. They all study medicine. There are about 100 of them. How much do they pay for tuition? What do they learn?

Our questions were met were shocking answers. The Pakistani's pay more than 10x the amount of tuition than Chinese students do. They study "medicine" but in three semesters they have only been in a lab half a dozen times. Their teachers speak poor English, so they can't understand them, and since their books are in English, it is very important to understand what their teachers are saying. If they have a question, their teacher cannot explain himself properly in English, so he writes their questions down and answers them in the next class. In this way, they lose a lot ot time. They also say that they are taught entire books that are supossed to take one year to teach, and they are taught all the information in a matter of 24 days! Nobody learns anything, and of course they have complained, and they've taken their complaints all the way to the Vice President of the university, only to be met by the Foreign Exchange Director, and threatened that if they open their mouths again, they will have their visas revoked.

There are many other small problems, such as some students want to live off campus. One, because it's cheaper. Another because they are Muslims, and must take care in preparing their food a certain way. Eating from the mess hall is no good for them because they have too many restrictions on what they can eat. So, the director tells them they must get permission from the police, and the police tell them they must get permission from the school, but when they tell this to the school, nobody cares enough to take their concern seriously. So there is really nothing they can do.

We calcuated that with 100 Pakistani students, paying $5,000 dollars a year for tuition, not including fees and dorm, that the director makes half a million dollars a year! The students are not learning anything, except how to speak basic Chinese, and they feel too guilty to tell their parents back home because they have sacrificed so much to send them abroad for an education. Their parents think they will come home, and be doctors, but my friends are terrified of the future, because they know they haven't learned anything, and they must pass a big test in Pakistan to be doctors, and they really have no preparation or experience.

Ralph, one Pakistani said, "So what we will do is kill a lot of people in hospitals. We don't know anything except for theory." Of course he was kidding, but only slightly.

Really, what they are studying could be called, biology--but without the proper labratory experience.

Sufi said, "Sometimes we call ourselves prisoners. We are stuck here. We can do nothing."

They make the most out of it though. They learn Chinese. They play ping-pong, and cricket. They learn to cook for themselves, and wash and iron their own clothes. They make foreign friends, sometimes girlfriends.

I feel sorry for them though. What corruption. The more experience I gather about Chinese institutions the more corruption I find.

The Last Class

2009-06-25T23:50:00.000-07:00

Today were my last two classes. Class included singing, dancing, candy, music, laughs, some tears, and lots of phots being taken in front of the Foreign Language Building.

I've had a terrific relationship with all 300 of my students. I don't know if I can replicate the kind of open, respectful, loving kind of teacher/student relationship we had together. Today my students expressed that they thought of me as their sister or friend, and weren't nervous or afraid in my class. They told me they've learned a lot about American culture, and about pronunciation skills, and that I have given them lots of chances to speak out in front of the class. Sometimes, as a teacher, I've been unsure if what I'm teaching is actually being absorbed. I've worked very hard to teach them the English skills they need regarding Oral English, and have thrown in my own ideas about giving them assignments that require creative expression. I'm confident to say today that I have been sucessful.

I told my students that they have changed my lives. I told them that I'm sooo glad I came to teach them in Inner Mongolia, and that they have taught me more about teaching, life and culture, then I could ever teach them. I held back my tears, but not everybody did.

Celeste, a freshman girl was literally hyperventilating and crying. After several minutes of hugging her, she still wouldn't let me go. It was a bit overwhelming for me. I didn't really know what to do but smile and tell her it was okay.

Last year, in a big sense, I really didn't know why I chose Inner Mongolia to teach. I wasn't really even set on being a teacher. All I know now is that the benelevolent mystical force in my life brought me to Ned, and brought me here to live and teach in Inner Mongolia. I am happy all of this happened, but sad to leave, although I know it is time to go home and rekindle my relationships there, and serve my Albuquerque community for the time being.

Thank you China for making me a stronger, more appreciative, patient and mature person. I only hope that I can find students as good as these in America....

If not, I'm coming back to China.

MOST CHINESE....

2009-06-23T21:55:00.000-07:00

MOST CHINESE...

*students wear jeans everyday

*have never ridden an airplane

*will live with or very near their parents their entire lives

*work until they're 55, then they must retire.

*eat the watermelon seeds when they eat watermelon.

*don't have air conditioning, a car, or a big house, but want all these things.

*ride a bicycle

*favorite part of the day is the morning

*drink green tea throughout the day

*have eaten dog meat before

*never drink cold water because it is bad according the Chinese medicine

*don't like Japan

*cut in line

*eat every rice grain on their plate

*women carry umbrellas, wear light gloves or long sleeves, and hats to protect their skin from the sun

*hate mice and frogs

*girls and women hold hands together when they walk

*eat every part of the cow, chicken, pig, sheep including lungs, brain and intestines.

*a favorite snack is chicken feet for children and adults

*store milk, eggs and sausages without refridgeration

*take an hour nap at noon everyday.

What it Takes to Get to Tibet

2009-06-22T20:06:00.000-07:00

After Ned and I drop off our luggage and Nina the Dog in Beijing, we are flying to Tibet for a week.

Planning a trip to Tibet is not easy. I am thankful that Ned has done all the work and financing for our Tibet trip.

This is what it takes to get to Tibet:

1. If you don't already have a Chinese visa, get one.

2. In addition you need to get a Tibet permit. For this Ned and I needed to send our tour company copies of our passport, copies of our visa, and an official document from the university saying that we have jobs in China.

3. Speaking of tour companies, every traveler needs to sign up for a tour. Nobody can just "show up" at the Lhasa airport and backpack around. It probably isn't even possible to get a taxi alone from the airport. The Chinese don't want foreigners wandering around by themselves, especially westerners. Ned requested an afternoon free for us to just relax and do something on our own. We were told this was not possible, and that we had to be accompanied wherever we went. So book a tour. There are plenty.

4. Yes we are allowed to take pictures. Of course anyone traveling to Tibet should be concerned about the high altitude, drink lots of water, and be prepared for all the ordinary international travel precautions, such as safeguarding money and passport, wearing appropriate clothing for the region, comfortable footware, and maintaining a good attitude.

I'm sure all the trouble of getting there will be well worth our efforts once we get there and bask in the beautiful scenary and spirit of the region.

I wish I could post some pictures, but the free proxy doesn't allow it.

What We Are Reading

2009-06-22T19:24:00.000-07:00

You are what you read.

So this is what Ned and I are lately:

*The Audacity of Hope, by Barack Obama

*Guns, Germs and Steel, by Jared Diamond

*Twilight, by Stephenie Meyer

*The Unbearable Lightness of Being, by Milan Kundera

*The Memory Keeper's Daughter, by Kim Edwards

*The Sum of Our Days, by Isabel Allende

*Three Cups of Tea, by Greg Mortenson

I'm done with grading completely! So now I get to read all I want. Happy Days.

The Mob Mentality

2009-06-19T20:17:00.000-07:00

Situation#1
Rishikesh, India
June, 2008
The River Ganges

I was bathing in the holy Ganges River with other local Indian women in saris, and Indian men in just shorts. It was a sweltering day, and even through I risked getting Ecoli, or a skin eating bateria by bathing in the river, I couldn't help myself. I'm a water bug, and the cold water felt sooooo good on my hot skin.

Suddenly I heard a scream, and I looked to see a teenage boy loose control in the powerful current, and get pulled into a rapid, swirled out, and go under the water. Everyone around me was watching with looks of horror. As a former lifeguard my first instinct was to dive into the water, get pulled into the rapid, and swim out to save him. But I held back because I wasn't sure if it was safe for me. My heart raced, and I bit my lip as I prayed to see the boy resurface. Thankfully, he did when the water became shallow and calm. He stood up and coughed violently for several minutes. People ran down the bank to make sure he was all right, and indeed he was.

Situation#2
Tongliao, China
August 2008
Xilamulun Park

Ned and I were walking in Xilamulun park several days after we arrived in Tongliao. It was night time and there were many traditional Chinese dancers, vendors selling hotdogs, tofu on a stick, and tentacles on a stick. Children walked hand in hand with their parents, and fortune tellers sat in little wooden chairs surveying the crowd. We exited the crowded park to go home, and I caught sight of a mob of people. I tugged Ned in that direction and we discovered three young women in a vicious fight. Two girls were attacking one girl. By the time we got there, they had her lying on the ground, and they took turns kicking her belly and her face and her head. I was horrified as was everyone else. I wanted to run in between the girls and scream at them to go away, but I scared. I got angry when I looked around and saw many strong men just watching the fight. Suddenly, the two girls flagged down a taxi and rode away, leaving the poor nearly unconscious girl in the middle of the street.

After both of these situations I felt guilty for not doing something. Of course, I have my excuses as everyone else does. First and foremost, what holds most importance is self preservation and most people won't enter into situation if there is chance they could get badly hurt.

I remember telling the student teacher on the India trip about the boy who got pulled into the Ganges, and I said, "I was going to jump in and help him, but he bobbed up before I could."

She replied, "You wouldn't have jumped in. Everyone assumes the mob mentality when things happen like that."

So I thought, Isn't that an awful thing? Wouldn't I have jumped? Was everyone else thinking the same thing?

I think I would have jumped into both of the above situations if the victims were family members or close friends, but how can we be sure?

Not everyone is cut out to be a hero, but I hope if I'm ever in a life or death situation there will be someone willing to risk it to save me.

The FISH! philosophy saves the morning

2009-06-18T22:11:00.000-07:00

Today was another hot, humid, very windy day.

I carried a load of notebooks to school this morning thankful that when I arrived, I would distribute the graded notebooks and return home empty handed. Then I realized that I had grabbed the wrong stack of notebooks! My poor fingers were so tired they couldn't even bend, and I had lugged 30 of the wrong notebooks 20 minutes to school and up 4 flights of stairs!

I hate life! I wanted to scream. Of course I didn't, and instead I smiled and said, "Good morning class. How is everyone today?"

I was sweating from walking up the 4 flights of stairs, and since the classrooms don't have air conditioning or even a fan, I would get no relief from the humidity and stale air of a packed classroom with closed windows.

I felt exhausted already it was only 7:31am, and I had 3 hours and 59 minutes of teaching to go.

Two girls were late today, (which I have no patience for) because they interrupt whatever I'm teaching with their embarrassed looks and lame excuses.

today I felt like a water balloon being filled up with water from a hose, and little by little I fill up, stretch out, and become so enlarged that at any second I feel like I am going to explode.

This morning was my 8th time teaching the same lesson. I felt so tired. So bored.

In these moments of frustation and exhaustion I force myself to think about the FISH! philosophy.

The FISH! philosophy was taught to me when I worked as a Counselor at a Girl Scout Camp. The philosophy teaches people how to work well together, form healthy work relationships and be good leaders and workers.

Even though I learned this 5 years ago, I still utilize the 4 practices of the FISH! philsophy.

*Play

*Make Their Day

*Choose Your Attitude

*Be Present

Since I am not a morning person, and I begin teaching at 7:30am, in order to not be a grump when I enter class, I always say before I enter class: Choose your attitude, Mandy.

So then I fake being really happy and energetic. This tactic reminds me of saying, "Fake it till you make it."

So even though I wanted to yell at my late students, yell at the students giving News of the World that their pronunciation was uninteligible, and throw the 30 wrong notebooks across the room, I didn't.

I just pretended to be happy and energetic, and I made jokes and took lots of deep breaths,

and everything turned out okay.

Soon, it was time for my second class of the day, with the same old lesson, same irritations, same stuffy, hot classroom, but by then I was calm enough to sail through class--and onto a delicious lunch of rice and three different kinds of vegetable dishes.

thank goodness this week is over.

Only one more to go.

I'm the Foreign Teacher

2009-06-16T22:02:00.000-07:00

I take it as a personal offense when my students skip my class.

I can't help but feel slightly irritated and upset.

I caught myself feeling vindictive today in class when one of my favorite (or formally favorite) students missed my class, for the 2nd time in a row.

I thought, "I'm marking 20 points off his grade for bad attitude, and another 20 for irresponsibility. How dare he!"

Then I worried, "maybe it's my teaching. Maybe I did something wrong, and he doesn't like my class anymore."

I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I'm the Foreign teacher, and I'm special, and there are many other non-students who sit in my class because they think I'm interesting and love my lessons. So, how dare he!

This is how a queen must feel when one of her subjects disobeys her.

I'm the Queen! How dare you!

I know I should just get over it, it's almost the end of the year anyway, spring fever...blah blah,

but still,

I'm the Foreign teacher!

=)

Poop, Heat Stroke, and Beggars--memories of India

2009-06-15T21:24:00.000-07:00

A year ago, at this time I was in India.

All of my memories of India are re-seen through the lens that I was uncomfortably hot, sick with diahhria and overwhelmed constantly by the poverty and beggars, and by the fact that I could be robbed at any minute.

I remember being in Mussorrie, a mountanious village town north of Rishikesh. I was wearing a white t-shirt, and a long floral printed loose skirt with sandals. It was about 10am, and the class was walked to a Tibetan Buddhist Stupa. Just as we arrived at the temple, without any warning, I felt a deep rumble in my stomach. I had to go, now. I looked around and felt instant panic. My bathroom break could't even wait 5 minutes. I looked around and spotted a couple of 3-sided wooden outhouses on top of a mound, overlooking hills of jungle. I ran over, hoping that the outhouses weren't filthy, and weren't occupied. Thank goodness, they were free of other people, and swept clean with a broom of sticks and muddy water. I squatted over the hole in the ground, so so so thankful I hadn't had an accident all over myself. After I was finished, I was exhausted. Truly exhausted. It was the poop experience of my life.

Since the outhouse was 3-sided I had a clear and beautiful view of the enormous green valley that rolled out in front of me. I looked closer at the plants that grew in profusion on the hills. It was Marajuana. Yes, indeed it was. There was no mistaking that. I remembering hearing a story about how Marajuana grows freely, without cultivation in northern India. They call Marajuana "pig food." Apparently, people feed it to their pigs, and it gives their pigs the munchies.

Suddenly, I realized I didn't have any toilet paper, and I didn't feel comfortable washing myself using the water in the tin bucket that was buzzing with flies. Again, I felt overcome with panic, and felt the urge to cry a little bit. I realized what I had to do was to take off my underwear, and let my butt air dry under my flowing skirt.

So this is what I did. I never went into the Tibetan Buddhist Stupa that day. Obviously, I felt dirty. I also felt embarrassed and shocked that this was happening to me. I remember hiding my underwear under my arm and separating my legs in hope that whatever was wet would dry under there.

A few days later I went back and left a 500 ruppee note on the alter, in thanks for providing the sick traveller with a clean, scenic place to do her bussiness.

This is the theme that every single one of my India experiences were colored with. Of course, I saw and experienced beautiful things, but I was constantly distracted by poop, heat and safety issues.

Gotta love India.

Thank you for allowing me to share that story.

Images of Happiness

2009-06-15T07:05:00.000-07:00

Happy Things in Tongliao:

bright orange goldfish in tanks

great novels that keep me up until 2am to finish reading

Coca Cola after eating salty food (which is any food here in China!)

Poofy clouds, thunder and sudden spurts of cold rain, green grass and a cool breeze

Toddlers in pants that slit open in the crouch, and I can see their little fat butts as they waddle down the sidewalk.

hot cocoa out of a machine

never getting tired of eating rice

my dog curled and sleeping on my lap

looking in the back window at my students waiting patiently in their desks, heads turned forward, each sitting on her own cushion, waiting for me to arrive and teach them.

clean sheets smelling of wind

the handmade paper crane mobile that swirls above the desk

sandals with red toenails

laughing at Ned's Ned-isms

early morning Nina walks with a cup of instant coffe cupped in my hands (Instant now tastes like regular to me)

counting the days until... my life falls into a beautiful oblivion

teaching Girl Scout songs to my students, and forcing the boys to sing them too! (only 10% of students are boys)

steamed Baozi with vinegar, chile peppers and salt vegetables for breakfast on my mornings off...yum

cute new brightly colored pens with bears on them,

and best of all,

feeling as if I am living the life I was meant to live.

shortcomings

2009-06-14T01:48:00.000-07:00

I posed the question: How have you changed and grown up in the past year?

My students wrote for 15 minutes on this question, and then handed in the assignment.

Helen, a student in one of my Chinese sophomore classes wrote:

"There are really many things changed. At first, I found I'am old and looks not like a girl but a maid. I have to pay more attention to my face because I find few wrinkle. It's really a terrible thing... I find many shortcomings and I'am trying to correct them, for example, lazy and gluttonous, shilly-shally, careless, crude and rash and dilatory and so on. Oh, so many, aren't they? I am changing from small things and I will be found change a lot and some day and become a good person. Come on, Helen."

First of all, this girl is only 20 years old, and she DOES NOT look like an old maid. As for lazy, she just raced in the recent sports meet, competing for time in the mile run, and as for gluttonous, the girl probably weighs about 105 pounds.

Shilly-shally? I had to look this one up in the dictionary. It means: to procrastinate. to be unable to come up with a decision.

Since I've been here, I've noticed that Chinese people keep a record of their shortcomings, and announce them whenever possible. Is this a way of being humble? Or a way to always keep in mind that we all need to constantly improve ourselves?

I admire the Chinese for their frankness. Helen inspired me to write a list of my own shortcomings.

They are as follows:

over-sensitive
lazy
worrisome
gluttinous (If Helen is, I definetly am)
quick to anger, quick to get upset
not looking before I leap
taking too much onto my plate, and then feeling overwhelmed
over expectant of others
impatient
non commital
distain of athority
day-dreamy

I, too like Helen, plan to work on these shortcomings in the following year.

The To-Do List

2009-06-12T20:00:00.000-07:00

Last night, Ned and I sat down with the calender and a pen, and circled, crossed out, and made notes on the next month of our lives.

We're at the point of counting down days, now. Oh, the point of no return.

Today I made a to-do list for today. I haven't kept a steady to-do list every day since college, and I don't want to get back into that too-busy mode of thinking and being. But I woke up this Saturday morning, made tea, and took Nina on a walk. When I got home, I felt like there were too many things swirling around my head.

So I sat down with a pencil and piece of paper, and wrote down:

grade Mongolian class 2 notebooks (35)

run

plan next week's lesson

wash Nina

study Chinese (Rosetta Stone)

I'm determined to finish the Rosetta Stone program Ned purchased, even if I don't use my skills back home.

So, as of now, I've graded about 20 notebooks, and that's it. It's 11am, and I hope by this evening, all my other goals are checked off the list.

oh, how I despise to-do lists. I would just like to see the day naturally unfold... especially on the weekend.

An exercise inspired by Taos, NM

2009-06-08T23:01:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time there was a mountain called Saint Christopher. There were rivers and deer and bears and a small tribe of humans, who lived among their sheep and survived on the wild plants and corn that grew there. After some time, families from the South seeking farmland settled there, and brought horses and dogs and a language that sounded like fast dancing on planks of wood. For the most part, they lived in harmony nearby the people of the Earth, and after time their children intermarried, and a sheep was traded for a dog, a pile of corn traded for a bag of flour. The families of the South brought a house of god, and once a week they would go inside the house with nice clothes, and sing.
More time passed and men with pale faces from the East came riding on horses. They carried sticks that shot fire, and spoke in a language that sounded like a hand slapping on mud. These people lived inside their homes and shot fire at the deer who drank by the river. These people had sharp tools that cut trees and moved rocks. They flattened the earth, and they drove their horses back and forth on it.
A battle broke out between the people of the Earth, the families of the South and the Pale faces. Great warriors were lost on all sides. The people of the Earth moved into the mountain, the families of the South moved out onto the valley, and the Pale faces made their own settlement on a ridge overlooking it all.
Hundreds of years passed quietly with intermittent battles between the people who lived on the mountain. Young people in Volkswagen buses came looking to build large houses where people of their kind could smoke plants and get drunk on happiness. Some of them stayed to grow up, tend farms and earn a modest living. As time went on, the beauty of Saint Christopher Mountain became more and more splendid.
The people of the Earth were worried that too many people would want to live on their beautiful mountain, and that they would bring their trash and problems to the land, and spoil it forever. They held a sweat lodge to call on the spirit of the Mountain. The built a large fire and steamed rocks in the center of a large circle. They wove animal hides through a beam of branches, and built a sturdy, prayer lodge where the wise ones would sit and chant until the Great Spirit of the Mountain awoke.
After three days of prayer, the Great Spirit arose and told the people of the Earth that she would protect the land, the animals and the people of the earth by placing a charm on the mountain. The only people who would be able to stay would be those who were willing to lead a poor, but modest life of good intention, to the earth and the people around them. The Great Spirit thanked the wise ones for their concern by blessing them with a bounty of corn and yams at the following harvest.
Since then, the people of the Earth have been relieved to see that the Great Spirit has kept her promise. The city that is now called Taos is kept small and maintained by a happy but poor, motley group of citizens who have arisen out of the three battling groups. As long as the charm is held intact by prayers and acts of charity among the three groups, nobody has to worry about the greed and filth of the human race overtaking San Christopher Mountain again. The people live happily among the plants and animals, and peace prevails.

The Practice of Keeping a Dog

2009-06-08T21:40:00.000-07:00

This is a post to Nina the Pug, and to all people who keep the practice of taking care of a pet.

Every morning before I do anything else, I take Nina out for a walk. Sometimes it just 15 minutes around North Campus where I live, because I have to get to class, and other days when I don't work in the mornings we walk for an hour by the west river, smelling the fresh air and enjoying the cool breeze from the water.

I feed Nina her kibble and egg yolk (Ned eats the whites) twice a day, I give her a bath once a week, I give her a thousand pets every day, and she sleeps with me at night snoring, and I'm lucky if I can sit down at the computer, or grade papers in the living room without her jumping up on my lap.

We also walk at noon, and late in the afternoon we go on a long walk to stretch our legs and give us an appetite for dinner. On shabbat Nina gets a meaty bone.

In all that I give to Nina, she gives me more joy that I could give her.

This may sounds like a cheesy, trite thing to say, but I consider take good care of another living being to be a good spiritual practice. She gets me out of bed in the morning and out into the world. She's there jumping up and down and whining when I come home from teaching. She gives my life a routine, which I've realized is very important in times of transition and uncertainty.

thank you Nina, I hope we have many adventures together, our next being across the Pacific ocean!

(I wish I could post a picture, but the Free Proxy Server doesn't give me that option)

a moral dilema--what to do?

2009-06-07T02:43:00.000-07:00

This is my 200th post. yeah.

This post is about a moral dilema I've recently had.

Please, if anyone had any suggestions, let me know.

here it goes:

In the past week, a rumor has been circulating that at the north campus of the university where I live, two Chinese, female students were raped by a foreign student—a Pakistani male. The girls are unable to identify the rapist, because the incident happened late at night, in the dark, and because they are unaccustomed to being around people of other races, and they think all Pakistanis look the same. There are about 125 Pakistani men and women who attend this university to study medicine, and so far the rapist hasn’t been found.
Meanwhile, during the last month, three Pakistani males have been sitting in my one of my English classes because they are interested in improving their English skills. These three boys are polite, cheerful and have befriended many students in the class. Recently we all went on a field trip where a few of my nervous, shy female, Chinese students were able to converse and laugh with the Pakistani students for the first time.
But ever since the rumored rape, many of the female students in my class don’t feel comfortable with our new Pakistani friends and don’t want them to be allowed to sit in my class. All the trust and understanding felt by my Chinese students towards the Pakistani students has been replaced with anger and mistrust.
I understand why my female students may feel fearful, and I want to make sure they feel safe in class. I also feel sure that the three Pakistani boys who attend my class are not to blame, and I feel sorry that they have to suffer discrimination because someone of the same race committed a terrible act.
I don’t know if I should tell them to stop coming to my class because of the distrust from my female students, or continue to allow them, and run the class as usual. They technically aren’t in the class and I could give them some excuse about the class already being too crowded—blah, blah, blah.
The Chinese in this small city are generally unaccustomed to people of other races, backgrounds, and countries. Towards certain groups of foreigners they are ignorant, racist and xenophobic—but will mind their own business and be peaceful just as long as the outsiders do the same. The general feeling is that they are not interested in “dialoging” or forming a bridge of understanding. To add, I don’t feel it is my place to force mediation between these two groups.
I am torn between my sensitivities towards racial discrimination, and my sensitivities to women feeling safe.

What should I do?
Any Suggestions?

I'm back...I think

2009-06-02T22:49:00.000-07:00

Hello loved readers,

I disappeared for the last two weeks because China has blocked me access to my blog. I'm not the only blogger who has suffered. China has firewalled Youtube, all blogger blogs, and many other websites containing information regarding T i a n a m e n square, as the anniversary of the massacre is on June 4th. I read about this on Nicolas Kristoff's fan page. Kristoff is a journalist for the NY times who travels all over the world documenting the most harsh and difficult of stories...while trying to create awareness, and compassionate for people all over the world in less than desirable situations.

Anyway, I'm writing here now through a Free Proxy Server. Let's hope it keeps working. I can't access everything on my blog through this, and I don't even know if this post will publish.

I wrote this rant a week ago and published it on facebook.

here it is:

For the past 10 months I've lived in the northern province of China called Inner Mongolia. When I anticipated this journey, I never expected that I would have to give up so many things I considered necessary for my own survival and happiness.

So far the things I've given up are as follows:

hot water
an oven
a microwave
burners (I cook with a rice cooker and a hot plate)
a toaster
forks
air conditioning
a car (I walk or ride my bike)
a helmet when I ride my bicycle
a mattress (I sleep on a one inch piece of foam on top of a wooden platform)
friends and family nearby
knowing and being able to speak the common language
access to English books, dvds, newspapers
clean water (I boil my water)
a consistent form of electricity and water (sometimes it goes out)

In the university where I work I am provided with no:

books or materials of any kind.
there are no doors on the stalls in the bathrooms
no air conditioning or even a fan
inconsistent form of heat
the windows are broken
the students clean the classrooms but most times they are filthy.

The only thing I am provided with is chalk for the board...which is in rich and abundant supply.

All this I can live with, and actually I've been quite happy living without all these things,
but last week something else was taken away from me.

my blog.

and everyone else's blog who blogs on blogger. this is just not cool because I rely on my blog to communicate my feelings and experiences with friends and loved ones from back home. It's been a great writing tool for me. I'm really very happy with how it's come along in the past 10 months.

but now, that's over because China has firewalled access to many websites, all blogger blogs, Youtube, and whatever else they feel like, well because they like to control things.

What surprises me most is the reaction from my students when I tell them about this.

"Just wait several months...they are just checking to make sure there is nothing bad on the internet."

"Several months? I can't wait several months."

I then realized that the Chinese are used to this type of censorship, and they are used to not living with hot water, and air conditioning and clean classrooms and doors on bathrooms. To them, this is just life.
The live 6 to a dorm room, don't own computers or cars, and walk to the shower house once a week and pay 60 cents to take a shower, because once a week is all they can afford.

I never fully understood priviledge until I came here. I used to feel jaded about being an American, and now I just feel lucky.

When I go home this summer, I won't ask for much. Just hot water when I wash my face, and full access to the world wide web.

Bless Free Speech,

Bless Democracy.

I am thankful today to be an American.

(I don't have access to font type, size and color, as well as spell check, so please be patient with me.)

Bicycling, a way of life

2009-05-14T23:14:00.000-07:00

This photo was taken in front of the supermarket.

There are no parking spaces. Just sidewalk space!

This one is taken in front of Building 2, the Foreign Languages Department

at Inner Mongolian University for the Nationalities.

Right before class, there are usually 3 or 4 rows of bikes parked here

with a lock around the back tire.

A man with his small son just looking for a place to park.

This is the way all babies ride, on the back of bikes
without a helmet. Nobody wears a helmet. There are none.

This moto is transporting brooms. Other large loads are commonly seen

on small motorcycles or bikes, such as families, bags of rice, furniture,

or practically anything you can manage while driving.

God save the planet the day the Chinese trade in their bicycles for cars.

2009-05-13T19:02:00.000-07:00

Today is May 14th. Today marks the 2 months to go mark of being here in Tongliao, Inner Mongolia, China.

On July 14th, Nina the Pug, Ned and I will be flying back to the good ol' USA.

The whole process of finished off the last 6 weeks of teaching Chinese and Mongolian students oral English, grading, saying goodbyes, giving away/packing stuff, taking the train with Nina to Beijing, boarding her for 1 week (as required) most possibly flying to Mongolia (the real Mongolia) to travel for our last week, then meeting Nina back in Beijing at the International airport, and successfully transporting a dog on the 11 hour flight from Beijing to San Francisco (without Ned...he's on the next flight 4 hours later. It's the only flight he could get free with his air miles) ALL this makes me so nervous.

I've been giving away one thing a day. Old clothing, stuffed animals, gifts from students...things I don't intent to fly with me all the way across the Pacific ocean. I feel like this will minimize the grief of giving away and letting go of my life here. I put these items under trees, carefully in garbage bins, on the side of roads, in trees...wherever the muse directs me. I know that my offerings will not be left as trash. Somebody, most likely the old ladies sweepers who comb the North Campus where we live will find them, and redirect my old pants, gloves, stuffed animal duck and piggy bank gift to somebody who will use and enjoy it. My little offerings may be treasure to someone else, but most importantly, it's good for me to give them away.

I've tried to teach myself not to get attached to material items. My constant state of moving around in the last few years has taught me not to get too attached to anything that doesn't comfortably fit in a suitcase, and more importantly, has a reason to be carried along.

It's hard though. I have this old green sweater I keep telling myself to give away. I have another purple glimmery shirt that I love but has holes in it, and it's faded, but I love it. I also have these heavy, leather Doc Martin shoes that are warm and stylish, but they don't fit my feet that well, (the front's too tight, and the back's too loose) and they are heavy for me to clomp around in. I must give all these things away, but I haven't been able to do it yet. I think about all the memories of have of wearing them, and people have old, green sweater for years, and don't throw them away. This is a matter of suitcase space, and a lesson in impermanence for me.

It's all a learning process.

Last night we started the process of getting Nina ready for her bright red traveling carrier. We put her in, and she turned around a couple of times, and then madly starting digging and scratching at the bottom. If she keeps that up for the 11 hour flight, she'll bust through the thin material and I'll have to carry her like a baby onto the airplane for ABQ. We've vowed to put her in the carrier everyday to get her well adjusted.

Teaching is still going great. It's a consistent source of joy and exhaustion. This afternoon I'm playing Pictionary with my Mongolian freshman class. For my other classes, we're writing and/or memorizing famous speeches. The favorites are "The Gettysburg Address," by Abe Lincoln, Obama's "Victory Night Speech," and "I have a Dream" by MLKj. I've been spending extra time teaching them common English phrases, and public speaking skills. They love it when I imitate their poor public speaking. I look down at my paper, imitate their nervous voices, talk too fast, or too softly. They laugh and giggle because they know that's exactly how they speak. Then I say, "If you talk like this, (I point to the door) I will say goodbye! If you talk like this, it is a waste of my time, and a waste of the whole classes' time."

This way they know I'm serious. We'll have presentations in a couple of weeks, and until then I'm trying to fish up some good English learning games because it seems like I've been doing too much talking/lecturing, and I need a break.

Ned and I are going to Jiaozi (steamed pork dumplings) and Malatang, my favorite spicy, bok choy, cilantro, tofu, veggie yummy soup for lunch.

Other than that, a submission to print out for Sy Safransky at the Sun, for a Reader's Write. Then class this afternoon with the Mongols. Yeah.

Little Dog, Big Bone

2009-05-11T23:03:00.000-07:00

Ned buys Nina a big bone every Shabbat. While we drink wine, and relax on a Friday night, Nina spends her time on the front porch gnawing on a meaty bone. Ned bought this bone here for about 30 cents. She always uses her left paw to hold the bone down where she gnaws at it. She'll spend a couple hours outside working on the bone, and if it's still there the next morning (we've had bone disappearances. we suspect the old sweeper ladies who might use the bone for stew) Nina will work on it until she crushes it with her teeth and gnaws out the marrow.

Once we forgot about a bone in the fridge for week, and when we took it out it was a greenish hue and really stinky. We gave it to Nina anyway, and she devoured it. We made sure to clean off her face and paws before she came back inside to prevent the bed from smelling like stinky, rotting meat, too.

My students all tell me that Nina is really fat. I suspect they have built in fat-vision behind their little spectacles. If anything, human or animal weighs a kilo more than what they need to survive, they are judged as fat.

Nina may be fat to my students, but to me, she's just perfect!

It's Mango Season

2009-05-11T22:54:00.000-07:00

I eat about 10 little mangoes a day. They're ripe and everywhere. Somewhere, someone is picking them off trees and shipping them north to Inner Mongolia, because they sure don't come from anywhere near here. I remember being afraid of not having regular fresh fruits and vegetables when I was preparing to come here last August. I had no idea what to expect regarding food. All I knew was that Mongolians ate a lot of yogurt, milk and sheep. I was preparing myself to be brave and do the same.

I've never had mangoes this good in New Mexico. Who would have thought I'd have to come all the way to Inner Mongolia to eat ripe, fresh mangoes? and cheap, too. It costs me $1.25 for about 12 little mangoes.

We've said goodbye to pineapple season, and hello to mango season.

What's next? I think it's going to be Xi Gua again. Watermelons!

Chinese Modesty

2009-05-10T21:07:00.000-07:00

Look at the way my students are dressed.

Do you see any v-necked shirts?

Any flashy labels or designs?

Any skin showing?

Definitely not.

There are no bare shoulders, bare legs, or bare midriffs here in Tongliao. Perhaps in Beijing or Shanghai it is a different story, but here in north China, in this small city, even if it is 100 degrees, you will not see young men and women in shorts, and tank tops.

The boys here play basketball in the heat with their shirts on,

and you won't see any college girls tanning outside with a magazine and sunglasses, American girl style. Chinese girls desire to be white as can be, and so they wear cloth face masks, wide brim hats, and stay indoors.

Socks are always worn with shoes. With sandals, too...girls wear thin panty hose when they wear sandals or open-toed shoes.

I've had to make some adjustments so my own style, so I don't offend others.

Last week I was jump roping outside my house in mid-thigh shorts and a t-shirt when a Pakistani girl walked by wearing long colorful loose clothing and a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She looked at my legs and gave me the meanest look.

So no more shorts for me, for the time being.

However, I do wear sandals without socks and everybody is just going to have to get used to it.

I also have to be careful about bra-straps showing, form-fitting clothing and dressing too lightly on a cold day, which seems to really bother others and begs the question, "Aren't you cold? Why don't you wear more clothes?"

In which I answer, "Fashion over comfort...I refuse to wear a heavy jacket over this cute dress."

And everyone just looks at me like I'm a crazy foreigner,

which I guess I am.

Lesson Planning...ekk

2009-05-09T17:33:00.000-07:00

I've been busy the past few days lesson planning. I don't have a book that I use, nor do I get any guidance from the Foreign Language Department. I asked my students to write down and turn in to me a few ideas of what they want to learn from me for the rest of the term. They all know I'm leaving in July, so this is really their last chance to pick my brain.

I read all their suggestions a week ago, so now I'm trying to formulate how to weave their suggestions into the next six weeks. For some, lesson planning without materials or a book can be frightening, and I admit for me in the first few weeks it was, too. I'm a creative, out-of-the-box person and I appreciate the freedom and latitude this job allows me. Like other oral English teachers, I rely on the Internet as my primary source. Yesterday I researched short, famous American speeches so that I can have my students learn to recite them. What's been hardest is for me to teach pronunciation. How to explain how to make the 'r' sound? Or the 'th' sound?

Yesterday I had two students come over, Betty and Sharon. They pointed at the word 'apple.'

"You told us to pronounce it as 'apple,' but our other teacher told us to pronounce it as 'apple.'
said Betty.

Both of Betty's 'apples' sounded exactly the same to me.

"Maybe both are okay." I said.

I always try to explain that English is so different than Chinese. In English there are several ways to say the same word, such as "potato, potaato." and they are both okay. In Chinese, there are tones, and there is only one precise way to say the word.

I'm most exhausted after I teach pronunciation. I never knew that speaking was so exhausting.

I'm still working on lesson planning today.

Tonight Ned and I are judging the "Foreign Drama Competition"... it's gonna be interesting.

It's Warm Enough for Sandals

2009-05-06T03:48:00.000-07:00

Who would have thought red toes in sandals would appear in Inner Mongolia?

Happy Spring!!

A Glowing Recommendation

2009-05-05T02:08:00.000-07:00

This is a journal entry done by my student Jerry. For this entry they were told to write about a friend. He's the only student out of 300 to write about me! I was truly touched by his words. I hope you all are able to read the text from the photographs.

Yes, that is purple rice you see.

2009-05-02T09:27:00.000-07:00

Ms. Kraft's New Deal:

1. Cook us Lunch

2. We pay for the ingredients, and you cook.

3. We eat together and give you the opportunity of a private, English conversational meal.

Sounds Good?

I've been advirtising this deal to students in hope that Ned and I will get a couple authentic, delicious meals from students per week.

Yup!

Rita and her friend Zhao Pin cooked us the most delicious food I've had yet in China...everything in our tiny, microscopic kitchen. I doubt that any other students will be able to top this meal. I just couldn't stop eating.

My writing skills are not yet good enough to give this meal the description it deserves, so I'll just let your eyes feast on the pictures I've posted.

The truly amazing thing....besides the food, is the fact that all this food was cooked by two 20 year old college students, without the help from their mothers, or any cook book, and they did it ALL on a one burner hot plate.

Thank goodness for Chinese culinary skills, Chinese friends, and purple rice.

I love Yellow Label Tea

2009-05-01T18:20:00.000-07:00

I am drinking it right now. I am staying at the New Century Hotel with Ned. It is Worker's Day. So it is a holiday, and we are celebrating by having a little R & R at the best hotel in the city. The best room (with flat TV, a computer, plush carpet, nice everything) costs us about $60.

It's about 10 blocks away from our home, but boy do we feel far away when we get here. It feels like we are in a different city. The room is stocked with drinks, instant coffee, jasmine tea and my favorite....Lipton Yellow Label. This tea reminds me of travel. I've discovered it in hotels around the world. It's a sweet, light, black tea.

I've had it in Israel, with lots of sugar--Israeli Style.

I've had it in India, with lots of sugar and milk--Indian style.

I've had it in Beijing, black--with a cigarette--Chinese style.

Yellow Label Tea reminds me of travel, and even though I am still in Tongliao, and will walk the 25 minutes home, I feel very far away.

My Day Job

2009-04-30T22:04:00.000-07:00

I teach Mongolian students to sing "Row Row Row Your Boat."

When they mastered singing the 4 lines of the song, I had them sing it in rounds.

This is what I have been doing all week, with all 9 of my classes.

I love my job.

The Unkempt Man, Johnny Appleseed

2009-04-29T17:35:00.000-07:00

An Ode to Johnny Appleseed

"Oh the Lord is good to me, and so I thank the Lord for giving me the things I need: the sun and the rain and the apple seed. The Lord is good to me!"

He's got a satchel of seeds, pants too short for his legs, and bare feet

that hardly touch the ground.

He's a ethereal man, more in tune with the direction of the wind, and his book of psalms,

than the life of a man--toil, sweat and sow.

He's got trees growing from Massachusetts to Ohio,

all planted carefully in valleys. His money is in the ground,

and even though the apples are bitter and tart,

they can still be pressed to make apple cidar wine.

He prefers seeds and berries to the meat of deer or squirrel.

He call animals kindred spirits, and they don't recognize him as man anyway

with his grizzly beard and soft-footed steps.

I introduce Johnny A. to my Chinese students, who were raised under careful hands, told to never dirty a shoe, wore uniforms all through school, ate rice three times daily, were told to recite proverbs, learn about Communism, see we all have equal rights, equal opportunity, we follow the rules, we follow tradition.

To them, Johnny A. is crazy

with his bare feet, and his vegetarianism, and his no wife and no children

and his wandering, apple tree hugging lifestyle.

I thank you, Johnny Appleseed,

for being an individual, for being a dirty footed, long bearded man,

so I can show my students that sometimes we need people like Johnny in our world,

the crazy, idealistic, unkempt ones

to change us, make us think, and let us know that sometimes

the only right thing,

is to be ourselves.

Chinese Notebooks

2009-04-27T19:00:00.000-07:00

Chinese notebooks have so many fun, cheesy

quirky quotes on their covers.

My students all have notebooks because I give

them a journal writing exercise every class, and

for homework, too.

This week I collected the journals to read and

grade what they've written for the first half of the term. I have 300 journals sprawled across my living room floor in messy little piles. I try to read 30 a day, or one class a day, to get through them in a timely manner.

They have

topics such as:

What activities did you enjoy as a child?

If you could speak to anyone from the dead who would it be?

They have 15 minutes at the beginning of class each day.

They write away, and I take the time to prepare my materials and brainstorm.

Since I have 300 students total, what ends up happening is I just check to make sure they've written all 13 entries, and I read the last entry which is: What do you want to learn in this class for the remainder of the term?

I keep a note pad near me and write down any good suggestions. Most of them say something like: Ms. Kraft you are so beautiful, and I wish you more beautiful every day, and I wish our lesson more learning every day! Love, Cherry.

I'm in a great mood after I read journals, and question why I am leaving this job this summer. What other job would I get to hear 300 times that I am beautiful and have a kind heart and am a great teacher?

Also, the journals themselves are fun, colorful, and filled with pictures of Caucasian little girls, cartoons, smiling couples and hearts and flowers. Even my male students carry notebooks with these kind of silly covers. They all have cheesy quotes on them as well. One is: Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have."

Although it is hard work to read and grade all these journals, I enjoy reading their thoughts about their families, China, our environment, their friends, dreams and hopes for learning English.

The colorful and fun covers contrast their dull and assiduous life ahead as college students. No wonder why they choose the most optimistic and lovely of notebooks. Just looking at one instantly makes you feel glad.

why is my dog wearing panties?

2009-04-26T22:12:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not trying to torture her,

and no, this isn't some new way of me humanizing her,

nor is it a new fashion statement.

The baby blue underwear with little panda's on it is merely practical, and necessary if I don't want little red drops all over the floor, and my bed at all times of the day and night.

Nina is on her moon.

And Nina's moon lasts 21 days, and is formally called Estrus. It's not really the same as Menstration because it lasts for 21 days, not the normal 5-7. Also, Nina kind of stinks, and this stink attracts male dogs from all around. Last night Ned and I had to chase and kick an eager male suitor away. For the first week I was sympathetic. I wiped up droplets off the floor at all times of day. I washed my sheets. I thought to myself, "how much longer can this go on?"

Well, I googled "Dog Menstration" yesterday, and when I found out Estrus lasts 21 days, I quickly went to the store and purchased Nina these cute little blue panties. A clothes pin holds them on. She really doesn't mind. I don't even think she notices.

This saves me from dirty floors and dirty sheets, and dirty pants when she sits on my lap.

I'm happy.

Nina doesn't care.

Operation-Take Nina to America

2009-04-24T18:46:00.000-07:00

We're moving right along.

Yesterday was Nina's third and last visit to the Vetrinarian. She got her last set of vaccinations, and we picked up a dog carrier for the airplane.

As you can see, it's not perfect. Nina is pretty squished in there, but she can lie down, and it's the right size for the airplane. They have pretty specific requirements for the size and weight of the Dog Carrier, and I don't want to max out on the size. This may be the best we find in Tongliao. It only cost me $9.50, compared to the $60-100 priced carriers I would have to buy from the WorldPet company, or the airline, which does not guarantee having any carriers available anyway.

In this photo, Ned says I look more scared than Nina. She was a very good girl, and it only took one stab to get this injection in, compared to the 6 tries it took on her first visit because she was moving around and squeling so much.

Here's the Vetrinarian's tool box. ouch.

Here he is getting ready. Ned kept saying, "Ni Hao, Ni Hao" to get the Vet to look at him. He just laughed said hello back. He's a nice Vet.

He's going to write up some paperwork to me about what exactly he gave Nina in those injections, and then I'll fax it to Beijing to make sure it's everything she needs for her exportation from China.

devotee

2009-04-22T18:47:00.000-07:00

Every Morning

2009-04-20T01:54:00.001-07:00

I eat oatmeal.

At 6:50am right before I leave to teach my first class at 7:30am.

I'm thankful they sell instant oatmeal at the supermarket, otherwise what would I eat for breakfast?

Today I cut up half a banana and put that in too.

Nina ate a couple slices of banana after she was done with her egg and kibble breakfast. Did I mention she eats bananas?

Almonds, dried apricots, honey, and always milk are also delightful additions to my nutritious, delicious breakfast.

What do you put in your oatmeal?

John and Yoko

2009-04-19T07:56:00.000-07:00

What an interesting photograph. Absolutely timeless.

My students have been requested more American culture, American music, American customs....American EVERYTHING lately.

I'm teaching them John Lennon's version of "Stand By Me" in class this week. I want to do a brief introduction of who John Lennon is and show a picture. I punched his name into Google Images and this is what I got.

Too scandalous to show my students?

Buddhist Temple

2009-04-19T07:39:00.000-07:00

Ned and I went to a Buddhist Temple this overcast Sunday morning. All of the statues are made from wire, straw and mud. They are all cracked. I believe this art is intentional. I believe it reflects our temporal nature as human beings. Everything changes. We all die. I think it's beautiful.

I think all these faces and bodies and images are beautiful.

The TEM 4

2009-04-17T18:40:00.000-07:00

This morning all my Sophomore students are test taking.

The campus is extremely quiet.

The test is called, "Test for English Majors 4" and is extremely important to their success as college students and in finding a job. They have been studying for months for this exam. All I've heard is how nervous they are about taking this test. Most of the students have not even told their parents they are taking this exam, because if they fail, they won't have to tell their parents, because their parents won't know anyway.

For this university the passing rate is about 30-50% The students need to score a 60% on the exam in order to pass. I've looked at one of the review books for this test and it is comparable to the verbal section of the GRE. It has countless difficult vocabulary words, sentence completion and reading comprehension. They also have a listening section and a writing section.

I am lighting a candle for them right now.

I can't wait until Monday when their attention will be more focused on my lesson, instead of studying for this killer exam. Also, I've been waiting for this test to be over so I can ask some of them to do me favors....such as taking me to send a package, take Nina to get her 3rd injection, and come over to teach me how to make fermented veggies.

yummmm.

The Chosen One

2009-04-16T01:44:00.000-07:00

We went back to the Dog Market a few days ago because Nina's red harness broke...well the clip broke. As you can see she now has a royal blue one. There was a cute little boy pug in the cage and he was very curious about sniffing Nina. Who knows? he could be her husband, son or father maybe?

The Chinese lady in the corner of the pic pointed to his wee wee like, "He's a boy....your dog's a girl.... they can have some fun together."

He was a very lovely pug. I like his very black face. Nina looks on in a dettached manner as if she is thinking, "I'm the Chosen One. I don't care about you little boy pug."

If I could I would take home all the pugs in China, but I fear being labeled as the "crazy Pug lady."

Stories

2009-04-16T01:16:00.000-07:00

Lately, I've been enjoying stories.

There are some great stories online.

I listen to a program on NPR called, "This I Believe."

This project encourages people to say what it is they believe. My favorites have lately been: I believe in neighbors, and I believe in The Beatles. The program has thousands of people each week send in essays, but only the cream of the crop gets chosen.

I also view and listen to a series on the NYtimes called, "One in 8 Million." There is a story done on one person who lives in NY city. My favorites have been a 90 year old Mozzerella making woman, a Teen mom in Brooklyn, and a street musican.

Every body has a story.

If you are interested in either

go here http://www.nytimes.com/packages/html/nyregion/1-in-8-million/index.html?ref=nyregion##

and here http://www.npr.org/thisibelieve

censorship

2009-04-12T02:06:00.000-07:00

I just read a great book called, "Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress" by Dai Sijie.

It focuses on China's cultural revolution. During this time universities were shut down. Books were burned. The only books students had to read were Mao's Little Red Book, and other works by worldwide communist leaders. Young intellectuals were sent out into rural China to be "reeducated." This way, they didn't pose as a threat to Mao's Revolution.

In the story, banished young boys get their hands on a suitcase of Western classics. These books transform and influence their banal lives.

Since then, China has opened it doors to the Internet, Western books, and outside influence..however, it doesn't allow everything in.

For example, I cannot access Youtube from China. I cannot read one of my favorite blogs. The Apage Foster Home had it's web page blocked right before the Olympic Games, so our friends there cannot access their web page (in China.) China doesn't have any orphans... remember?

Sometimes I fear my blog being blocked.

The only information my students know about the Dalai Lama is negative.

The only information my students know about Chairman Mao is positive.

I've taken for granted information being widely available to me in my own country, uncensored (to my knowledge) and with full availability.

It's not always the case here in China.

missing sacred things

2009-04-11T16:24:00.000-07:00

I missed being home most this week.

I want to be a pilgrim walking to Chimayo. I want to sift the holy dirt through my hands and sit in the knobbly wooden pews of the ancient church. I want to smell the sagebrush of the New Mexican landscape.

I want to go to Easter brunch with my family and eat a lot of food in nice clothes.

I want to sit in a cozy house during Passover and listen to the story of the Jew's escape out of Egypt, and drink wine and eat lamb and matza, and smear chicken blood on Ned's door with a twig.

I want to drive up to Taos and chant Hanuman Chalisas at 4am. I want to chop carrots in the kitchen and meditate in the prayer room. I want to walk barefoot and drink chai. I want to wrap a shawl around my shoulders and sing Chalisas until it is so hot and crowded with Indian families that I escape outside to watch the Sikh men cook giant woks full of vegetables with ghee.

So many sacred events are happening right now in America.

Nothing is happening in China.

Last night, I read aloud some passages on Jesus's resurrection out of my New Testament to celebrate Easter.

It was special, but not special enough...

Springtime has Arrived

2009-04-10T18:14:00.000-07:00

In full force.

It's hot now, and suddenly I feel angry that we had no real transition from the bitter cold, to the heavy oppressive hot weather. Seriously, during the day it is so warm that my students sweat in class, and we have to open all the windows, but this lets in all the noise from the street, and I wish my university had some sort of air cooling system, even ceiling fans would do, but it doesn't.

The perks are that trees are budding and flowering and they look beautiful. Green shoots of grass are popping out of the black burned ground. Big black hoses criss cross the streets and sidewalk watering the trees and grass. Even with all the watering, the landscape is still so dry. Whenever it's windy here, we get a wall full of sand, along with the wind. Many of my students were born here, will live here all there lives, and will die here. This will be the only climate they know. I feel slightly bad for them.

Along indication it's Spring, is the proliferation of couples kissing under trees and sitting on benches when the sun goes down. When I take Nina for a walk around 10pm, it's seriously CROWDED outside. Sometimes Nina gets nervous when she sees two shadowy figures under a tree and she starts to bark at them. As I walk down paths and sidewalks, I'm constantly weaving my way around couples, and I feel like an intruder.

In the early mornings, too-- it is crowded outside. I take Nina out at 6:30am before I go to work, so she can do her thing. At this time there are students everywhere memorizing their texts out loud, in Chinese, in English, and they slowly pace up and down a bit of sidewalk or grass, but not too far, because there are other people nearby doing the same thing. A good majority of my students wake up at 5am these days to memorize their texts, go running, or participate in an early morning class. The students who sleep in till 7am are seen as lazy. These students are in class all day long. I really don't understand how they don't collapse. They motivate me to work harder for what I want to accomplish.

Spring in Tongliao =

a lot less clothes

earlier mornings

later nights

harder studying

more kissing

Happy Passover

2009-04-09T05:21:00.000-07:00

Tonight

Passover.

I want to be free from the enslavement of my blog.

p.s. It's a small, beloved enslavement

an accidental long weekend

2009-04-06T18:06:00.000-07:00

I'm on a 4 day weekend, that I didn't know I would be having, until it happened. The biggest downside to my job is the lack of communication between the Foreign Language department and myself. It's like they forget I exist, or assume I know everything the Chinese English teachers do. At first, I thought it was me. That they didn't like me. But Ned ran into Hana, a teacher from Finland who teaches Russian for the department, and nobody told her either. She went to class at 7:30 am Monday morning, only to find the building completely deserted. So it isn't me. It's them.

The reason why we had so many days off is because China celebrated a holiday in which people burn paper money for their deceased relatives. The money goes to heaven to their relatives, and their loved ones can buy everything they need in heaven with the money. It's like "heaven money." It's gold and comes in sheets, and people go to a corner on a road, make a circle and

burn the money inside the circle.

Why, on a corner?

well, would you ask your friend to meet you in the middle of a street?

No.

A corner is the easiest way for our relatives to find us.

I love how pragmatic the Chinese are, even in dealing with metaphysical endeavors.

Ned and I and our friend Sun Peng burned some money for our relatives on Saturday night too.

The next morning two of my jackets had fallen off their hooks onto the floor. They never fall off the hooks. Ned said he thought it was my spirits telling me they heard my prayers.

I hope so.

barfing noodles, yummmmm.

2009-04-05T19:12:00.000-07:00

yes, last night was exciting.

I spent it barfing up noodles and acidic half digested chunks of pineapple.

I don't know what made me sick...I think it was the street noodles. They were yummy when I ate them, cheap, covered in spicy shrimp paste and shredded cucumbers, but they sat in my stomach for about 8 hours before I heaved them up at around 1am.

Last night felt reminiscent of India. It's funny that I know connect barfing with India.
I remember once a long time ago it seems, I was afraid to barf. I would cry and try to stop myself from it happening, but India has taught me that the quickest way to feel better is just to let it all out.

I've also decided that I need to chew my noodles better because last night they came up whole and long, just how I had swallowed them. In my barfing experiences I have to conclude that that hardest thing to throw up is undigested noodles.

I thought about taking a picture last night to put on my blog today,
but decided it wouldn't be appreciated.

feeling better, staying away from street noodles,

Mandy

another reason Spring is here.

2009-04-03T18:14:00.000-07:00

Bunnies!!

For the rabbit and the cage it costs between 10-25 rmb...($1.25-4.00). They sure are cute, but will they last?

Let's not even get into the Chinese pet industry.

You think China has some "misunderstandings" with

Human Rights, well expect a hardy laugh,

and a look of confusion if you ever mention Animal Rights

in China.

These bunnies wish to go to America,

to be fed store bought feed and organic lettuce scraps,

and live to the ripe old bunnie age of.... 5?

When I mentioned to my students that I wanted to take

Nina the Pug with me to America, the response was,

"Lucky dog! too lucky dog! We want go to America!"

The Lucky Egg

2009-04-02T21:41:00.000-07:00

Have you ever eaten an egg with two yolks?

This was my first time to eat an egg with two yolks. How unusual, I thought. Is it lucky? I asked Farmer John. Yes, very luck! he responded. Is it common? I asked. Yes, very common! he replied.

Being an American, sometimes I forget that the food I buy at the store has been processed, even eggs. Eggs with two yolks are bigger than other eggs, and so the farmer (or the factory) picks them out before they are able to be packaged.

Double yolks is more common than I thought, but even so, not SO common,

and still very lucky,

and

delicious.

A Girl and Her Dog

2009-04-02T01:21:00.001-07:00

April, 2nd.

A sunny afternoon,

the warmest it's been since...

forever.

Eat Pray Love

2009-03-30T18:26:00.000-07:00

I found a book to take me out of my reading slump. This is it: Eat Pray Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert.

I initialy shyed away from it because it was so popular. I took the cover to be a little cliche, and only once perused through the India section at a bookstore in San Francisco before my own trip to India.

My American girlfriends here lent me the book, it's pages worn, with sentences underlined, and the cover curled and dirty. This was one LOVED book. So I begin to read it.

This book is to me, as chicken soup is to a cold. It reads naturally, comfortingly, and great. I love it. Being a woman traveler who loves, searches for God and loves to eat, I completely relate to her book. In fact, it gives me strength.

I most relate to her search for God portion in India. Through her writing, she has encouraged me to meditate. I have meditated for stunts of time in the past, but it's never been a practice I've held on to. My mind has been acting more monkeyish that usual lately, and I started to see the necessity in finding a practice to slow the gears of my mind down.

Thank you Megan, Katie, Neha, Cristina for this book!

I love it.

salt vegetables with everything, please.

2009-03-30T05:14:00.000-07:00

Ned said to me this afternoon, "I don't think you realize how Chinese you are."

He was commenting on the fact that I now wear a pair of tights or leggings underneath my pants on cold days. The Chinese all wear a thin pair of leggings underneath pants, even if it isn't very cold. I think it also has to do with modesty. So now I wear leggings underneath my pants, without even thinking about it.

I also eat my leftover dinner for breakfast, just like the Chinese do.

I also eat every meal with salt vegetables. Notice the stringy, orange things in the picture above??

yup, that's them.

These salt vegetables are cut fermented potatoes (i think) with garlic, sesame seeds and some hot spice (hence the red color).

I buy big fresh bags of salt vegetables from the deli at the supermarket for about 10 cents a kilo. I eat them with everything, at nearly every meal. This morning I ate 2 hard boiled eggs with salt vegetables for breakfast. (I also eat a lot of eggs because John the Chicken Farmer supplies them free from his father's farm).

I ate them today at lunch with rice and vegetables.

I don't eat salt vegetables with my oatmeal, though.

I love salt vegetables, and I've decided that my dream is to make and sell mason jars of homemade salt vegetables at farmer's markets, and wear a straw hat, and a summer dress and have my sweet little pug snoozing underneath the shade of the table.

Nutritious, Delicious

2009-03-28T19:16:00.000-07:00

Several people have told me that I look slimmer this semester. This comes as a nice surprise to me because I'm not trying to lose weight, and judging from all the delicious food I gobbled up in Thailand over the holiday, I expected my (sometimes painfully honest) students to say, "Ms. Kraft, you look like cow."

If I have indeed lost weight, I give full credit to Chinese food. Since being here I do not regularly eat pasta, cake, bread, milk, cheese or ice cream. These foods simply are available here, but they are aren't worth eating because they taste bad and are expensive. The Chinese don't do pasta. Or bread, or anything else I mentioned.

But don't let me fool you. This past Friday, I ate a burrito! Only instead of a tortilla, it was wrapped in a giant leaf of lettuce. Rita, my wonderful student, friend life-saver offered to cook lunch for us on Friday. We went to a hole in the wall market so Rita could buy 3 peppers, some thick greens, 2 bags of sauce and some green onion. We had potatoes and a bit of meat, that she used to cook, too.

She cut the potatoes extra thin, and then stir fried them in vinegar and salt water with the peppers and some small pieces of meat for flavor. In another bowl she mixed chopped green onions and peppers and some greens, and mixed in one of the bags of sauce. She gave me the bowl to stir the sauce into the greens with a pair of chopsticks. The sauce was salty and made of fermented black bean...I think.

We had the rice cooker going, as always. When everything was ready Rita,

Spread a the giant green leaf on a plate.
Spread the saucy onions and peppers on the leaf.
Then, a scoop of rice.
Then added the potatoes with peppers and meat.
Finally added some spicy sauce on top of the potatoes, and carefully wrapped it up in her hands like a burrito and handed it to me!

It was a delicious and nutritious lunch!

Thank you Rita!

Happy hearts, happy bellies.

Ned and I napped for 2 hours (Nina too) after this delicious lunch.

Baby Chicks

2009-03-27T22:38:00.000-07:00

Today in Xilamalun Park, right by my house, a grime covered farmer sold baby chicks for 1 yuan each (15 cents). The baby chicks were dyed bright pink, blue, orange and green. I was riding my bicycle home from the bank and I saw a hoard of teenage girls crowded around something that chirped. To my surprise it was a box of baby chicks! Girls were carrying them away in plastic bags or carried them pressed to their napes.

I stayed and watched the chicken farmer for a while--and saw how many parents with children and teenage girls he attracted with his brood of dyed chicks. To my dismay, I discovered that he had two other closed boxes, underneath the open box filled with 2nd and 3rd supply of chicks! Once he had sold enough of the colored ones, he opened the 2nd box and scooped out more of the blue and pink ones for the open box. The chicken farmer was the epicenter of spring enthusiasm in the park today. I watched as mothers pulled their crying children away on motorbikes, and the occasional lucky little boy getting to take home 2 or 3 to play with until they expired.

Ned told me that they used to dye and sell baby chicks in America around Easter time. There's no Easter in China, but the festive Spring spirit is alive and chirping in Tongliao!

Bored at 5pm

2009-03-26T02:03:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it's nice to hear someone's voice, especially if it's been a while.

Here's my voice, and Nina's cute little Pug face.

Bye! We're going on our 4th walk today!

quail eggs

2009-03-25T04:25:00.000-07:00

what's for dinner tonight?

yup, you guessed it:

Quail Eggs.

mmmmmmm, delicious.

I fell in love with these tiny eggs during my first few weeks in Tongliao when I was eating lunch and a couple eggs appeared in my soup.

I bought these tea-cup beauties at the grocery store, already hard boiled in the deli section.

I remember my Italian grandmother saying how she wanted to go hunting in the New Mexico desert to steal Quail eggs so she could eat them. I remember being horrified that she would even consider doing that given how the poor Quails have a hard enough time as it is given that cars, dogs and apparently Italian immigrants are dwindling down their population.

But now I understand.

Quail eggs are the most delicious little eggs I've even eaten.

Who knows, maybe I'll get desperate in my return to the States this summer and join my grandmother on the Rio Rancho West Mesa to hunt out some quail eggs.

yum yum.

icicles hanging on by a twiggy twig

2009-03-23T23:38:00.000-07:00

Spring Beauty

its all about the hair bands

2009-03-23T02:09:00.000-07:00

here's me today hair-banding it

One should never under estimate the ice cold quality and quantity of dusty wind of Inner Mongolia in the Spring time. It's bad today. The winds here come North from Siberia, along with the dust of dinosaur bones from the Gobi desert.

Dusty, icy cold wind. That's what spring here is all about.

Tongliao has a joke. The joke goes:

A: How many times it is windy in Tongliao?

B: I don't know.... a million?

A: No! Just twice. Each time lasts 6 months.

B: ha ha ha!!

So, due to fact that my hair is curly, and in non-cute stage of growing out, I have little to do with it besides pinning sections back, or pushing my heavy locks back in a hair band. Today I went sans hair accessories, and by the time I got home for lunch my hair was a frizzy mess, and I had sand in my teeth from the wind.

When I left the house at 2pm to teach this afternoon I did not forget my red, plastic hair band...the one that makes my temples sore after a couple hours.

Hair bands....

not the most stylish accessory, but helpful for curly haired women in the wind.

The First Day of Spring

2009-03-20T22:15:00.000-07:00

Happy 45th Birthday Mom!

From Tongliao, Inner Mongolia

Albuquerque, New Mexico

I wish you a beautiful birthday.

(Nina & Ned, too)

Love,

your daughter

to fellow writers

2009-03-18T19:30:00.000-07:00

I came across these two great quotes yesterday upon fishing around on a former professor's webpage. They are simple and helpful. At times I feel this unsurmountable pressure to create something good to prove myself to the world and MOREOVER to myself that I am a writer.

Frank Conroy

"Commit yourself to the process, NOT the project. Don’t be afraid to write badly, everyone does. Invest yourself in the lifestyle .. NOT in the particular piece of work."

Annie Dillard

"Doing something does not require discipline. It creates its own discipline – with a little help from caffeine. "

These quotes were a catalyst for a great release of pressure. I realized that I haven't been writing as much as I used to. I used to write for one hour every morning at Winnings Coffee shop, with a cup of $1 coffee and my greasy mug from home. I realized how much I miss the practice of writing, and then I remembered a great quote from Natalie Goldberg who said, sometimes writing is like composting...you can't use everything you write, but by practicing you are making the soil richer and more complex and something, yes something will come out of that.

I won't share all my writer's neorosis with my blog readers. That I'll keep to myself. Let me just say, I'm writing and it's for me, and no one else, and I feel good.

I can't read.

2009-03-18T04:10:00.000-07:00

Could this be an unknown sickness?

I haven't picked up a book in 4 weeks.

Believe me, I've tried. I have 4 books lying on my night stand, a coffee table of magazines, a magazine being used as a mouse pad, a giant book of poetry under this laptop...books books books galore, but I haven't gotten into any lately.

I started out the year strong and read 8 books during my winter vacation. Then, I returned to Tongliao, and lesson planning, classes, Nina the dog, and thinking about the future got in the way, and even though I've tried, my mind refuses to focus on the page. Even when I have my cup of tea, in bed, and it's quiet and it's only 8pm...I still can't read. I find myself skimming, or dazing off into space and realize I have no idea what the last page I read was about.

Take tonight. I taught 3 classes today... a total of 6 hours. I had lunch with my students, picked up my jacket at the dry cleaners, meet with Rita, and came home. It's 5:00pm and I find myself drinking my second cup of milk tea in bed, just sitting there, starring off into space, doing absolutely nothing...and not wanting to either.

Am I getting old?

I had no desire to exercise, or cook or practice Chinese or study my GRE book or write or lesson plan or watch a dvd or READ. By the way, that was my list of ALL POSSIBLE things I do in Tongliao. If it's not on that list, I don't do it.

I just wanted to sit and drink tea and do nothing.

I'm starting to feel desperate and worried that I'm going to get dumber by not reading. Reading is something I've always done, and I ordered all these awesome books from BETTER WORLD BOOKS online and they took 4-6 weeks to arrive here, and I just have to read them or else it would be a tragedy.

Help?

My books are beginning to get dusty.

The Chinese Want to Drive Cars

2009-03-16T23:41:00.000-07:00

This week I am having my students discuss Global Warming. This is a topic they are all familiar with. When I introduced new vocabulary, they already knew what CO2 meant. The also were familiar with the El Nino warm ocean current that is responsible for hurricanes in the gulf.

I put this picture of the polar bear on the melting ice, and explained that since the ice is melting, the polar bears have less area to hunt seals, and this leads to polar bears starving to death, and the possible extinction of a species. They can also get trapped like this one did.

The picture is funny and sad.

After our discussion I wrote some questions on the board like:

What most about Global Warming bothers you?
What can we do to help?
Do you care? Be honest. Why or why not?

I gave out this paper below, as a handout with lots of solutions. All of them are struggling students low on the totem pole, so of course they don't fly, of course they don't have cars, of course they don't eat meat everyday, or even once a week. They don't have hot water or stoves in their dorms. Of course they hang their laundry to dry, and they aren't ultra consumers because they don't have the money or space to be. Many parts of this list were irrelevant to their lives, but I still wanted them to see it.

I said, "How many of you have a car?" Nobody raised their hand.

Ok. "If you had enough money and a good job, would you buy a car?" I asked. All the hands shoot up. "Of course!" they bellowed. We had just finished talking about how cars emit CO2 into the atmosphere, blah blah blah, and instantly if they had the cash, "of course" they would buy a car.

"But you can't drive cars!" I wanted to shout out. "If all of you buy cars and your friends buy cars, and everyone your age buys cars, the planet will die!"

Bottom Line: Most Chinese want to live well, comfortably, and have the modern luxuries that Americans have. In Michael Meyer's essay in the NYtimes, "China's American Way of Life," he wrote “'If Chinese want to live the American way of life, then we need seven earths to support them,' the founder of China’s first environmental nongovernmental organization once told me."

Great. There goes our polar bears.

Mongolian Girls Say Hello

2009-03-15T04:13:00.000-07:00

This afternoon Sharon and Betty, two students in my Mongolian class came over to have lemon tea, look at English magazines, surf the internet and play with Nina the dog.

They made a video on my webcam to introduce themselves to all my friends and family.

A big hello from the locals in Tongliao!

lost in the future

2009-03-13T02:35:00.000-07:00

The one big feat of International travel is....International travel. The fact of it actually happening is a result of months and months of planning, lots of money, preparation, and if you are saying goodbye to loved ones, a handful of sleepless nights full of jittery stomachs and mixed feelings.

Throwing a dog into the mix makes it even more complicated. After two weeks of having Nina in my life, I definitely want to take her home. It is possible. But involves only taking United Airlines, getting vaccines given only by a government veterinarian, exportation papers, registration, a kennel for the airplane that I hope manifests itself in the nearby pet shop. Of course, (I've recently found) there are agencies in Beijing who will happily be your pet exportation agent, in exchange for a bundle of money. Thankfully, importation into the US isn't so strict. I went to a local Vet today who gave Nina her Rabie's vaccination and who told me he can help me get these papers... I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

One of my life and spiritual practices is Being In The Moment, but international travel makes it impossible. The process of deciding to leave a place, dealing with one's belongings, selling, giving away, saying goodbye to friends, while also setting up a place to live, work and be, in the arrival city is beyond stressful, and makes my mind completely lost in the future.

From experience I've learned that there is a big difference between a well planned trip and a poorly planned trip. I've also learned that I experience the most confusion, sorrow and culture shock on arrival back into my hometown. Arriving in a new place always contains the sparkle and glimmer of adventure. It's returning and reflecting and deciding what to do next--that is hard.

In being a smart, thoughtful, young woman (thank you, thank you) I desperately and hopefully want to plan and execute a good trip back home. I hate that instead of practicing Chinese, or going for a walk, or communicating with my students, I'm worrying about travel preparations in 4 months. In my future, more evolved, sophisticated and richer self, I will hire someone to do all this future worrying and planning for me.

So officially, I am coming back to Albuquerque sometime in July, with Ned, and hopefully most hopefully, with Nina, too.

I'm done. Sorry, can't think or write about the future anymore....a time and place that doesn't exist anyway.

It's Snowing

2009-03-11T18:21:00.000-07:00

This morning I woke up to a gray sky and wind and snow!

Nina, Ned and I went out for a walk this morning and took some photos. So much for Spring. I guess Winter wanted to get in it's last hoorah. Student Farmer John brought us a huge bag of fresh eggs from his father's farm. Ned made real coffee from the coffee grounds we keep in the freezer for special days. I took out the Nutella that I smuggled back from Thailand, and we had a great breakfast of fried eggs, toast and pineapple (of course) while it continued to snow outside.

No classes until this afternoon....a good, slow, enjoyable morning.

lovin' Robert Frost

2009-03-10T21:07:00.000-07:00

This week is Poetry week. I'm starting to understand how people say teachers learn more by teaching, than by studying on their own, or how a teacher can learn a lot more then their students. I thought that reciting and discussing several famous, American poems would be simple, and easy, but it's turned out to be a learning activity for me, too. Today I shared Robert Frost's poem,

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,

with my Mongolian class, and a Sophomore Chinese class.

This is a great poem to share with ESL students because the words and simple, and I can teach about line, stanza, syllables and rhyme, because they all exist beautifully and naturally in this poem.

First, I read the poem out loud, and then I reciting it line by line and the students wrote down what they heard. This was a good listening exercise for them. Then, I wrote the complete poem on the board so they could correct their writing (if needed) and we could discuss the poem.

The meaning and theme of this poem is deeper than the casual reader could imagine. I won't delve into it here. All I want to say is there are Chinese and Mongolian students discussing Robert Frost in the middle of dusty, rural, Inner Mongolia.

A beautiful poem, I hope they keep in their hearts.

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village, though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sounds the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

pineapples and kites

2009-03-09T22:02:00.000-07:00

Early Spring in Inner Mongolia, is all about walking on the street, without my knee-length down jacket on and Nina's leash in my hand, and my Ipod playing my favorite tunes, and the road side stands selling fresh pineapple, chopped and spirally cut for only 50 cents a fruit. Early Spring in Inner Mongolia is all about old men flying kites midday in Xilamalun park, and the frozen ice melting and the fortune tellers sitting under trees with their cup of sticks and a sheet of dirty canvas with red characters written on it. Early Spring is all about opening the windows to let the fresh air in, and not needing to turn on the space heater and being able to wear my cute black flats with a THIN pair of socks. Yeah for spring! I never thought you were coming back.

a frustration

2009-03-08T04:59:00.000-07:00

For once I'd like to go somewhere without being stared at. Everywhere I go, I mean EVERYWHERE they are always people staring at me, whispering, and sometimes giggling. The more bold ones will yell out, "Hello!" then laugh embarrassed as they peddle as fast as they can on their bicycles.

If it's not me....my hair, my height, my clothes, my face, that to Chinese people in my city, I'm a strange creature from another world....

it's my dog, Nina. People view Pugs at either cute or ugly, either opinion gets a big smiling or gasping reaction.

or people stare because such a (cute, ugly) dog is walking with a (cute, ugly, tall, curly) foreigner.

and people stare and whisper when Ned and I are together. Wow! look there are TWO of them... TWO foreigners walking down the street...look at them walk...look at their jackets. Two foreigners is always better than one. People stare because they wonder if Ned is my husband or father.

"He is neither," I told an obnoxious, nosey person. Apparently to some, what else could he be? The only two checkable boxes they have in their head are "husband" and "father."

The best staring we get is when it's all THREE of us together. Ned, Nina and I. WOW, we are quite a show. People stop what they are doing to elbow each other, giggle, stare until I sometimes want to poke their eyes out.

Somebody get me an invisibility cloak.

And fast.

lunch dates

2009-03-05T21:22:00.000-08:00

I love going to lunch with students. It is always a treat. They love it, too. So does Ned. It's a win-win-win situation for everybody. This picture is of Gloria and Sophie at a dumpling/noodle shop west of where we live. The electricity was out the day we went, so everybody got big, white tapered candles on their table. At the beginning of last semester I made it a habit to invite students to lunch frequently, so I could get to know them better, and decide what kind of lessons they needed to learn. Now, my students are more comfortable with me, and Ned and I receive more than enough invitations to eat together, shop, and see the occasional Chinese film on campus.

yum yum.

I love gummy bears

2009-03-05T00:09:00.000-08:00

and I like to play with them, too.

In Thailand I ate a lot of gummy bears (because they sold Haribo--in my opinion the best gummy bears of all time) and I had a lot of free time, so I came up with lots of different gummy scenarios.

first, they get segregated by color

then, they get married.

then they have sex...

then they have kids....this is the result from inter-color marriage.

Mandalas

2009-03-04T02:05:00.001-08:00

This week's activity was my best creation yet.

The lesson planning gods have me in their favor. This idea just popped right into my head last week, and I just knew it would be a hit in my classes.

I've reached a point where I know what works for my students, and what doesn't. This idea was brilliant, and I was right it's been a hit so far this week.

This is how it goes:

1. The class is separated in two groups. Each group is given 1 of the 2 mandalas seen below. Neither group can see the mandala that the other group has. They can only see their own. They are instructed to teach their partner how to draw the mandala, without showing their partner, and by speaking in English.

2. I write the vocabulary for various shapes on the board. The first group begins to teach their partners how to draw the first shape. Once their partner has completed the mandala, they switch, and the person who was drawing is now the instructor on how to draw the second mandala.

3. In the end, we put them on a table and each student voted on their favorite one. It was fun to compare them, laugh at the crazy abstract ones, and coo at the perfect ones (however I KNOW they cheated when they were so good.)

here's a few examples:

aren't they great?

Afterwards, I explained that many different cultures and religions regard mandalas to be sacred geometry. They were less interested in my mini-lecture at the end of class because they were so wound up from group work and the giggles and politics that goes on with voting (and cheating!) for your favorite mandala.

*cheating- I told each student to draw a star on the paper of the favorite mandala. only ONE STAR EACH. Even though I repeated myself about this rule, when I counted the stars at the end, I would get 40-55 stars total for a class of 28 students. Those cheaters! When I admonished them, they just laughed, got embarrassed and cheated again on the second round.

All in all, a great lesson.

pics from my birthday

2009-03-04T01:42:00.000-08:00

happy me! this was on our way home,

after about 6 glasses of beer... good thing the glasses

are only about 5 ounces.

John put icing on my face, and then everyone

told Ned to lick it off. He did so happily.

Here we are at Hot Pot!

Rita and Allen helping me put the candles in my cake.

I chose a dragon on my cake because it was the coolest looking one

at the store, and because the dragon is China's symbol.

24

2009-03-01T21:00:00.000-08:00

Today is my birthday. I am 24 years old today.
I am waiting for spring, walking Nina in style, picking up my birthday cake with a iced dragon on it this afternoon, teaching lessons, eating Ned's delicious shrimp fried rice, jump roping for fitness, and going out tonight to eat my favorite Hot Pot with 5 special most favorite guests.

I am blessed.

Nina the Pug

2009-02-28T23:10:00.000-08:00

Saturday I became a mother to a full grown female Pug, now named Nina!

Ask Ned, I've been talking about adopting a dog here in China for months now, but have always

curbed my desire due to the fact that I'll probably be returning to the U.S. later this summer. I desire kept coming back because I love animals, have rarely lived without them, and know that having a pet would help the isolation and loneliness I sometimes feel so far away from home. Ned was supportive and so was my friend/student Rita would told me she would take the dog home with her when I leave. Ned's sure that out of the 300+ students I have, I could find a good home with one of them when the time comes.

Still, I felt guilty about my decision, knowing I would be adopting a dog, only to leave it months later.

Cut to Saturday. I am not dog-shopping, just riding my bike, exploring through an open-air market. It's 1pm...almost closed. Just a few vendors left and a row of cages with barking dogs. I pedal down the row of cages, and my eyes catches the most pitiful sight of two big greyhounds cramped in a small cage...their eyes expressed pain and sorrow. There were a lot of different kind of dogs, some barking german shepard aggressive types for guard dogs, two or three glass cages with shampooed puppies for pets, and another couple cages of dirty, assorted full-grown dogs. I assume these dogs are sold for pets, and quite possibly the food industry. Last week we went to dinner with Sun Peng, and he asked us if we wanted to order dog meat with our soup.

"Yeah!" said Ned.

"No!" I said. "You can order dog meat when I'm not around."

Apparently, it's expensive, so I don't have to worry about it turning up in a dumpling and accidently eating it.

So long story short, I saw Nina the Pug in the dog re-run cage, and she looked so sad and tired. I pet her head and she closed her eyes in gratitude. She had a harness on made out of rags, and she looked so pathetic among the other assorted varieties.

I love pugs, and I just had to save this one. I'll probably have to find a home for her in several months, but atleast I can offer her a great life with me, now.

I didn't want her to end up being sent to the butcher, or spend another couple months in a wire cage in the cold. So I bargained, went back home to get money and Ned, and paid a steep price for her, (about $50). After a very excited walk home, a new harness and leash, a warm bath (with shampoo and conditioner) and a long nap, she's a new dog!

She slept with me last night, curled at my side, and didn't get up until I did. She hasn't had an accident in the house besides the first time I brought her inside (which makes me think she had previous owners). She's had babies by the look of her hanging nipples, and funnily enough she was on her period when I adopted her! I don't know if it's possible to get a dog spayed in Tongliao.

She follows me around the house, loves walks, and is the cutest thing ever.

Isn't she adorable?

Octomom

2009-02-27T17:48:00.000-08:00

This first week back to school I handed out a news article for my students to read and discuss in class.

This was partly to provide an example for a news summary they will all present to the class.

The news article that they read was about Nadine Suleman and her Octuplets. I choose an article off the New York Times online, and then re-wrote a summary so my students would have an easier time understanding the content.

This story has captivated me and made me angry, astonished, and questioned whether or not, down the road, the US will enforce some sort of reproductive control. I was eager to hear what Chinese students would take of this story.

After they read the article, they got into groups and discussed 3 questions:

what should the US government do about her situation?
what kind of life will these children have?
how do you feel about this?

Their answers ranged from compassionate as in the government should give her a new house, money to raise them, and money to educate her children. Others were more pragmatic and said the government should take this opportunity to enforce reproductive control. Others received scorn from their peers by saying, "the government should take away at least 10 of the babies and give them to other families."

I saw one girl had scribbled down in her notebook, "America very freedom."

All of them agreed that nobody in today's world should be allowed to have 14 children. Their answers all had to do with the rising global population and scarcity of resources. Nobody mentioned anything about a woman's right to bear, or not bear children. I suppose because no women in China are allowed to have more than 1 sometimes 2 children.

My students were also astonished that the mother has no husband or boyfriend. One boy said, "the boys will grow up unhappy because boys need a father. Maybe the girls will be fine, but the boys will suffer." Some suggested that Suleman try to find a husband. "Won't that be hard?" I said. Most of them laughed and agreed, but one boy said, "there are kindhearted men everywhere. It is not so hard."

well, I wish her good luck.

In the US, we criticize China for not being environment friendly, and for emiting so much pollution into the atmosphere. I read that the efforts the US makes to make smaller our carbon footprint, will produce minimal results, when China with it's population of 1.3 billion is doing little to reduce it's carbon footprint.

China sees saving the planet in a different way. The Chinese enforce population control, so over time there will be less people in China and less carbon usage. My students cannot comprehend how America is saving the planet by allowing people to have 4,5,6,7,8 or more babies. Won't this make more people who need to drive cars, eat meat, fly on airplanes, poop?

I don't think state control over women's reproductive rights will go over well in America, but maybe couples when deciding to create a family, can look at the whole environmental spectrum, and decide that smaller families are just a happy as big ones.

making my world bigger

2009-02-24T21:24:00.000-08:00

There are things I'm trying to do in Tongliao to make my world bigger.

My life at times can feel very small.... and one of my new semester resolutions is to do things to make my world bigger.

For example, in the past week I transformed our "junk" table into a "dining" table. Also, I found a cheap and easy printing place nearby to print out handouts and journal articles for my classes. It costs only $1 to print 30 pages.

I also went to the post office to mail letters (for the first time) with the help of a student. At the post office, they sell copies of the 21st Century English newspaper, which I knew about but didn't know where to get, so that adventure was like hitting 2 birds with one stone.

I also want to find more restaurants and places to eat around Tongliao and I'm going to continue my Chinese lessons with Rosetta Stone and perhaps will the help of my tutor Gloria.

The novelty of being here at has run out, and how I'm focusing on making deeper connections and feeling more comfortable in my community.

Burning Grass

2009-02-23T22:56:00.000-08:00

what are you doing? you better not catch my house on fire!

it's all smoky, here.

Today our apartment smells of burning. I checked the kitchen, the iron upstairs, but the smoke is not coming from one of my forgetful deeds. The smell is coming from outside where men are burning grass. I've never seen this done in the states. It must be illegal due to fire danger and pollution. They aren't just burning grass outside my back window, they are burning sod everywhere. Yesterday I looked out the 4th floor window of the university and all I saw was black. It's as if someone colored the entire landscape with a big black crayon. I suppose the grass is burned to naturally compost and fertilize the grass for the spring.

If anyone has a better explanation for me on why they burn the grass, let me know!

barbarians

2009-02-22T05:58:00.000-08:00

ah, the joy of return.

the dusty apartment, brown water coming out of the faucets, nothing in the fridge but some milk, which is still okay to drink after 6 weeks opened! say no to Chinese milk. too many preservatives and icky stuff.

my favorite student Rita came to visit me on Saturday just hours after my arrival. She has a cute new haircut, and we rode our bicycles to a print place so I could print out my new class schedule. No class on Tuesdays this semester! whoo hoo! and only 1 class on Thursday afternoons, but that means I have more classes on Monday/Wednesdays. whatever. I like the change in routine.

After a month of maid service in Thailand, with hot water in the tap, and no cooking, no cleaning, just relaxing, I've concluded that we live like barbarians here in Tongliao. For one, we have no hot water, and second, we have to boil our water to drink it. My face and hands need to get re-used -to the splash of icy water every morning. The boiling water situation takes more energy than one would think. I like to boil water to wash the dishes, otherwise...the grease stays. Also, sometimes I boil water to drink it, but then I forget about it and it cools, and then I have to re-boil it. Ned does the laundry, thankfully, but we have to be careful when it dries on the balcony outside, because often it freezes and freezing and wet is not good for laundry I want dry and warm.

Another barbarian thing about our apartment is that we have no dining table. We've been eating with bowls in our laps since forever. So today, I transformed the "lets-throw-Mandy's-gloves, books, teaching stuff" table into a cute dining table. We even had a spare flowered pillow case that I made into a table cloth. I set bowls, glasses and chopsticks on the table just for looks, and to my un-surprise Ned suggested we use the new dining table not as dining table, but as an art installation.

sorry Ned, not this time.

So we're just getting settled, re-adjusting to life here. I lesson planned like mad today. I teach for 6 hours tomorrow. I want to send some postcards after classes. Also, buy a new pot because ours is dented and burned. I'm thinking of buying a printer. Printing shop computers don't have Adobe Reader...so many of my documents won't print. How did I get used to living like a barbarian before?

I guess people can get used to a lot of things. This semester I'm taking my living conditions a step up. I've even buying candles to light at my new dining room table. I'll post pics soon.

To all my friends and family

2009-02-20T04:32:00.000-08:00

The Great Wall

North of Beijing, February 20th, 2009

Clean undies

2009-02-19T05:36:00.000-08:00

There comes a time in one’s travel career when one becomes tired of relying on laundry mats and hotel washing services, and begins to wash one’s undergarments in the sink.

I reached that point last week.

And I feel great. I feel liberated. I feel unbound by the washing machines that have made me feel unqualified to wash my own underwear.

It’s like, I can have clean laundry anytime I want. If I want to wear my pink panties two days in a row, all I need to do is wash ‘em in the sink, let ‘em dry over night, and wa la!

Fresh and clean.

Gone are the days of worrying about the next time I’ll be able to wash my clothes.

Whenever I want ‘em clean, I’ve got ‘em.

Night Market

2009-02-17T06:44:00.000-08:00

Bangkok, Thailand

We arrived here in the smoggy city late this afternoon, and while Ned read the paper and nursed a beer, I went for a walk. After about 25 minutes of walking on the sidewalk of a crowded main street I found a night market just setting up. Some vendors had already started roasted their ears of corn, and deep frying fish and chickens.

Thais have a love for packaging everything in tiny plastic bags, especially soups with floating pieces of chicken, shrimp, peppers and cucumbers. There were giants vats of bubbling yum yums...potatoes with ginger, ground pork with peppers, coconut curry soup, sweet and sour, with of course the ever present sticky rice on the side.

I was most surprised to find roasted toads on a stick, their little legs tucked in close to their bodies. I toured the market, declining offerings of whiskey in a cup by the soda man, and walked back to the hostel to get Ned.

We went back and got fried meatballs with cucumbers and peppers, cut corn on the cob fixed with fresh coconut shavings and sugar, and hot deep-fried chicken. For dessert, I went back and found a whole cut pineapple and delicious coconut pound cake. I think I gained a pound just from tonight's eats, but boy it was worth it.

A couple pathetic looking dogs hovered around scratching at their fleas, mites, scabies, or whatever parasitic thing they have. One was missing an eye, and had scratched himself so often that he had lost a majority of his fur. His pink and black speckled skin was rubbed raw. I tried to imagine how beautiful he would look if only I could dip him in a vat of flea bath and put him on antibiotics. His golden hair would grow back and I could even purchase him a glass eye.

I threw them all my chicken bones, (yes I know chicken bones are harmful to dogs) but these are Thai street dogs, and they've eaten much worse, and if the bone does splinter in their stomachs and kill them, at least it will take them out of their misery.

The funny thing about this night market, was that there were no tables so Ned and I ate our delicious dinners sitting at the bus stop bench. Not that it mattered anyway. Tonight was one of the best meals we've eaten here in Thailand, and one of the cheapest ($3.00). Tomorrow night we'll be flying back to good 'ol Beijing.

Dumplings here we come.

fruity fruits

2009-02-16T19:18:00.000-08:00

Eat up with your eyes folks

the small bananas are twice as flavorful as American size bananas

Pineapples are sweet without the acidic taste

what would you like?

tart red strawberries?

perhaps a coconut?

what would it take to make your day sweeter?

the gift of water

2009-02-15T23:23:00.000-08:00

Water in a glass bottle, and a $1.25 pirated copy

of still in movie theatre's "the Curious Case of Benjamin Button"

I just learned today that my high school swim coach passed away several days ago. I don't know the circumstances, but he was under 50 years old and in good health.

I feel

shocked

sad

contemplative

and grateful to have him a big part of my teenage years.

When I reflect on my high school experience, it is not without him, swimming and my swim team friends. I think he instilled confidence and hard work in all of us. There are many many stories and memories and wisdom I have from Coach,

one part of him, that is now a part of me is my propensity to drink large amounts of water.

if any of us swimmers ever complained of any ailment he always said, "Drink more water."

even if we complained of having too much homework, or of getting grounded by our parents!

Days before a big race he'd have the whole swim team chugging a gallon of water of day to hydrate us.

Once I became a water drinker, I couldn't stop. I hate to go anywhere without a water bottle, and often drink two or three glasses of water at every meal.

Here in our Thailand, our hotel has glass bottles of drinking water. They put three bottles everyday in the room when they clean it, free of charge.

three bottles is definitely not enough for me in this hot and humid climate. The staff here knows me well now, and often leaves two more bottles outside out door in case I get thirsty.

Whenever Ned comments on how much water I drink, I always give credit to Coach, who got me hooked in my swimming days.

well, I'm going to finish this blog and go have a swim in the ocean for my Coach.

thank you,
Coach Tuttle.
I'll miss you.

The Consortium of Pub-Going, Loose and Forward Women

2009-02-14T21:26:00.000-08:00

A bit of Feminism news for ya:

The Consortium of Pub-Going, Loose and Forward Women arose as a result of violence done by
Sri Rama Sena, a right-wing Hindu group. More than a dozen angry men attacked women in a pub in Mangalore, India saying they were protecting Indian culture and values. These men were opposed to women drinking, wearing "indecent" dress and mingling with young people of other religions. These men promised the girls that if they were ever seen in pubs again, they would be punished.

Nisha Susan, the founder of The Consortium, formed a non-violent protest against Sri Rama Sena by having "pub-going, loose and easy" women send their pink panties, or "chaddis" to the leader of Sri Rama Sena on Valentine's Day, and/or go out to a pub to have a drink. The women who are a part of this group are educated, working women who are financially independent. They say that these men do not approve of their lifestyles, and believe their education and financial independence will allow for Western influence. Valentine's Day is a Western holiday that is viewed as decedent, and promotes loose sexual behavior and romantic love, two ideas not a part of traditional Indian culture.

On a news program I saw last night, several Indian women spoke about how this is not about women drinking at pubs, its about always having to look behind you, always being afraid someone is going to hit or chase you for something as petty as wearing pants instead of the traditional saree. They are protested against violence against women.

The women's sect of Sri Rama Sena, Durga Sena is replying to the Consortium's sent pink chaddis by sending Nisha Susan pink sarees and bangles. The Consortium says they will happily wear the pink sarees and still go out to pubs.

to find out more go here: http://thepinkchaddicampaign.blogspot.com/

and here: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/09/world/asia/09india.html

photo of the day

2009-02-13T08:20:00.001-08:00

reflect on your buddha nature,

a pedicure and kittens

2009-02-12T19:41:00.000-08:00

Thailand is known for it's massages and spa treatment.

Everywhere I go, I see signs like this:

So, I went in for a $5 pedicure. The salon smelled strongly of acetone and cat urine. I felt it was too late for me to back out, so I thought maybe once I'm here for a bit, the smell will fade away.

It didn't. Then I notice the reason why it smells like cat urine.

I see two Siamese kittens playing in the corner,

next to what looks like a squirrel in a cage.

I drew one of the kittens to me with my animal loving telepathic thoughts,

and before long it was asleep on my tummy,

while I was getting pink painted onto my toes.

The girl says to me, "you like cat?"

"yes," I said. "how many cats do you have?"

"cat? oh maybe 1,2, up there (she points to the roof) maybe 10, more,

you want see baby cat maybe 2 days."

I nod my head, get off and follow her to a desk in the corner of the shop.

She points to a little niche in the desk, and I see a mother cat nursing 5 kittens.

Here's one of the kittens, palm size.

another fun surprise in Thailand. So cute, huh?

people come in circles

2009-02-12T02:32:00.001-08:00

Bob and Luna

The other day I met up with a friend I worked with 5 years ago at Girl Scout Camp in northern New Mexico.

I didn't know she was in Phuket, Thailand, and she didn't know I was here either.

She's an English teacher in China like me, and like most English teachers in China, we travel to Thailand on winter vacation (so I'm learning).

with the joys of facebook, I'm now able to view the "status" of over 300 of my friends.

My friend, who's name is Amanda like me, but more affectionately known as Bob at camp, had written on her facebook status that she was enjoying the sunset in Phuket.

wa la! I wrote her a message, she wrote me back, the next thing I know it's 9am and I'm on the back of a motorbike getting a ride to Starbucks (the only easy landmark we could think of).

I was wonderful to see a familiar face, and to share our similar and different experiences of living in China. Bob was faithfully wearing a Girl Scout t-shirt, and was of course doing cool things with her life (MA program, learning Chinese, travel adventures) like all former kick-ass Girl Scout Camp Counselors do.

What strange and fascinating luck to run-in to her in Phuket, Thailand.

"the world is small" many people say, but I disagree. It's not that the world is small, it's that people travel, run and live in circles.

We're bound to meet people like us, who show up at the same concerts as we do, travel to the same destinations, and seek the same jobs. I like to think that I belong to an invisible tribe of people. My beloved friends and acquaintances and random associations all belong to this tribe, and and whatever we do our lives criss cross and parallel each others.

It was so great to talk for a couple hours with a girl.

Ned's great, but I've always relished in my female friendships

and I've been cast upon the island of friendships

through Skype phone calls and email.

How great to have a conversation person to person,

and a wonderful treat to meet up in the most unexpected of places!

photo of the day

2009-02-10T20:15:00.001-08:00

two special moments

2009-02-07T20:09:00.000-08:00

This morning while eating our customary breakfast of 2 slices of toast with butter, (sometimes with nutella or jam) and a plate of sliced watermelon, pineapple and papaya, with coffee (Ned drinks both cups), a monk clad in orange robes and a shaved head pulled up in a jeep and stepped out of the vehicle.

Ned and I both starred.

"A monk," I said.

The monk went into the kitchen where someone was chopping fruit.

He spoke Thai. She spoke Thai.

He carried a basket which held long colorful sticks inside, and an official looking card with the Buddha under the Bodhi tree.

Ned reached into his pocket for his money. He pulled out a 20 baht note.

"Here," he said, handing it me.

"No, you give it to him. I'm shy." I said.

Before we could figure out who was going to give the monk the money, he was gone, in the jeep, and down the driveway. He left the basket on the table, and the woman who was cutting fruit in the kitchen showed us how to fold our 20 baht note around the (green or red) stick.

"You will have good luck for long time!" she said laughing.

********************

yesterday while walking on the beach I saw a very sunburned woman in a bikini carving a giant sand mermaid. She used half of a coconut shell to shape the mermaid. The tide was low, and was getting higher and she was almost finished detailing the mermaid's tail.

I walked by, stopped for a few seconds to gaze at her land art, and walked away smiling.

Later, when I turned around and walked back, the lady was gone, but her mermaid remained. Several people were crowded around to gaze at the beautiful sand creature.

The mermaid had but a couple hours to be, and then she would be no more.

*************

photos of the day

2009-02-06T05:52:00.000-08:00

I've been feeling like a goddess today.
No special reason,
just cause.

I love marigolds,

I love this goddess morti.

globalization

2009-02-04T22:09:00.000-08:00

so people have been asking me,

"How's Thailand?"

and I just wanna answer, "Like any highly traveled city or place you've ever been."

you know....

Starbucks is there, and McDonald's and Burger King. These franchises they've morphed from restaurants to familiar friends.

At a Starbucks the other day I was looking in the glass case at all the pastries and cakes, how cookie cutter clean they look, and how they are exactly the same pastries Starbucks sells in Omaha, or Albuquerque or LA.

Imagine the amount of jet fuel used ONLY to ship Starbucks pastries around?

and there's a lot of white men with big bellies with shaved heads and sunburns who walk on the beach holding the hand of a Thai escort. I know Thailand is known for it's proliferation of open prostitution and lady men (there's even a cute one with ponytails who works at the Starbucks on our beach.) but still, this easy romance feels like a commodity to me.

Is this how it is in every international city?

Chain restaurants, ATMs, the very rich white guys and the very poor people of color changing your sheets and washing your clothes.

The local cuisine is always very spicy and cheap,

the local people very friendly,

I don't want to get into stereotypes here,

but isn't that the point I'm trying to make?

That globalization makes everything less unique, that major corporations take over, and the local people turn into a generation of burger flippers, prostitutes, and taxi drivers.

Jobs are good, but for the price of spiritual and cultural loss?

Come on, now.

Thailand is great, but my air conditioned room overlooking the Andaman Sea isn't so different than your hotel room in Hawaii, in Shanghai, in Buenos Aires; where ever.

think about it.

25 Random Things

2009-02-03T22:10:00.000-08:00

Facebook has this new chain-note, called "25 Random Things" and the person is supossed to tag 25 people or so with their all about me's, and then the lists will continue. I find these random lists about my friends pretty interesting, in the fact that they aren't 'random' and only my female friends have completed them, and I find them quite endearing because it shows how real and jumbled and wishful we all are.

Here's mine.

February is my favorite month--valentines day, the end of winter, my birthday on March 2nd, and I love the word, February...it sounds so nice.
I’m aware there are many different women I could become and the possibilities are vast and scary and strange and wonderful, and I’m not quite ready to become any of them quite yet.
My boyfriend is older than your dad.
I won’t share details, but you can ask.
I dream of starting a cottage industry where I could make soap, or dresses or honey and sell them at Saturday markets in a straw hat.
I want to learn to read Hebrew.
I’m a night owl, but when I’m on a schedule I try to wake up extra early to write for 1 hour before I have to start my day.
When I moved for the millionth time in May I accidentally threw out a giant bag full of swimsuits. Now I only have one red one-piece I bought at Walmart for eleven dollars and a hand me down pokadot bikini. It’s all I need.
I’m a water bug and you can’t stop me. I had to get four stitches on the bottom of my foot when I jumped in a river in Argentina with no shoes. I also contracted a serious Staff infection on my thigh from hot springs in N. New Mexico, combined with not taking showers! Ich.
I don’t shave my armpit hair, except when one of my brothers get married and I have to be a bridesmaid.
Mongolians are my favorite people, historically and culturally.
I’m part Mongolian. Did you know that?
I love love love Winnings Coffee Shop in Albuquerque, and I often think of it, miss it, and have anxieties about having to move away from ABQ permanently, because then I couldn’t go there anymore.
I’m learning to speak Mandarin Chinese, and it’s going okay.
I have no desire to learn the characters.
I prefer wine to beer.
I often fear other people will think I’m weird, and this contributes to my awkwardness in social situations.
I use bar soap, not ‘body wash.’ Almost always Sandalwood scented.
I like to take trains. I like bicycles more.
I remember my dreams and talk about them with others.
I feel like my life has been a series of ‘goodbyes.’ And there will be many more to come.
Since I live abroad, sometimes I worry about a family member dying, because then I’d have to fly home.
In addition, I sometimes worry I will die and this involves lots of paperwork and money and confusion. My fears of death in China revolve around food poisoning and motorbikes.
I wish I liked to eat raw tomatoes.
My favorite job has been being a Camp Counselor at Girl Scout Camp, but teaching in Inner Mongolia is pretty fun, too. I just wish we got to go on fieldtrips.

photo(s) of the day

2009-02-02T20:26:00.000-08:00

our hotel is called "On the Hill" and so it is. It's on this hill.

Here I am, staying covered up midday so I don't get scorched.

Later, I'll be a mermaid and jump in the warm water and swim swim swim!