Sunday, July 15, 2012
Jubilance
That moment when, standing on the beach, watching the best band in Taiwan perform on a twinkling and distant stage, surrounded by friends who were made slowly but surely, I realized I had surpassed goals I didn't know I made.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Thursday, July 12, 2012
At long last
Today was by far the best day I've had in my five weeks in Taipei. I met up with a guy I met at the batting cage last week, and all of us (his friends and my friend Wendy) went to play baseball again. It was really funny because we immediately got McDonald's and batted and chatted--how American haha!
It was so much fun hanging out with Gabriel. We cheered one another on as we batted, and tried to give advice about batting that I'm pretty sure neither of us knew.
After that, we went to watch some of the kids dance (a very strange, pagan-esque dance!) and sat on the steps for hours taking in the cool breeze and talking about politics and culture and college life and ghosts (yes, Gloria was part of the conversation!). It really was amazing just to connect with someone from another culture like that, and all in Chinese! It was hard to understand (in BOTH directions, cause I'm pretty sure I don't make sense in Chinese half the time). I've already been lucky enough to be good friends with Valerie, Henry, Jasmine, and Angela, but tonight is really the first time I felt that I have true friends and a welcoming community in Taipei--at long last.
我愛台灣。
It was so much fun hanging out with Gabriel. We cheered one another on as we batted, and tried to give advice about batting that I'm pretty sure neither of us knew.
After that, we went to watch some of the kids dance (a very strange, pagan-esque dance!) and sat on the steps for hours taking in the cool breeze and talking about politics and culture and college life and ghosts (yes, Gloria was part of the conversation!). It really was amazing just to connect with someone from another culture like that, and all in Chinese! It was hard to understand (in BOTH directions, cause I'm pretty sure I don't make sense in Chinese half the time). I've already been lucky enough to be good friends with Valerie, Henry, Jasmine, and Angela, but tonight is really the first time I felt that I have true friends and a welcoming community in Taipei--at long last.
我愛台灣。
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Monday, July 9, 2012
Random Realization
The thought occurred to me when my teacher was explaining a classical Chinese term. This is impossible, I thought to myself grumpily. I wish she would just speak English like we usually do.
Then I realized: I don't remember my teacher ever speaking more than a few difficult words in English. Everything we had discussed, from idioms to petty gossip, had been in Chinese. She spoke one full sentence in English once, and I freaked at how weird it sounded. My other teacher has never spoken one word of English as far as I can remember.
I'm not trying to pat myself on the back here. I make horribly stupid mistakes and am still working on what they say the total price is at the cash register...even numbers can throw me if said fast! It's just amazing at how far I've come in the past months. I feel like it has gone by so quickly and that I haven't really learned anything, but when I look back to where I was in my days at Notre Dame, to Beijing, where the teacher sometimes used excessive English (much to the dismay of some Kygers among us) to here, where I have been challenged to the point of brain-mushing by full Chinese classes teaching philosophy normally taught to us in our native language. Throw in the major differences between Taiwanese Chinese and Beijing Chinese, and it becomes quite the challenge.
It's not that Chinese has suddenly become easy to me in entirety. It's sort of like driving around a city without a GPS. At first, going anywhere is stressful and challenging because you often have no idea where you are apart from your front door. Everything is a blur. But over time, you get used to your own street. After that, maybe you can navigate a few blocks. After months and months of driving, you know many parts like the back of your hand--this is here, that is there, and then comes this. You are comfortable here. You zone out to the "Call Me Maybe" or Adele playing for the seventieth time on the radio because the wheel practically steers itself. But there are always parts--neighborhoods, districts--that are still completely foreign. That is the best way I can explain learning Chinese. Many topics are comfortable. Others are mind-boggling in their unfamiliarity. But you just have to take a deep breath and look around--the only way to learn is to keep on driving.
So I may feel like the fumbling fool in my newspaper class. The white boy who can't read the sentences as perfectly as the Japanese girls. That idiot kid who spent more time writing a blog post than studying for his test. But looking back, and looking hard, I can see anyone, even yours truly, can really get used to a language.
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| Yeah! We can dooo it! |
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Taiwanese Friends
I've been terrible at keeping this up. Surprise surprise. I try to tie together themes, but recently I've been terrible at writing them down.
SO starting today, I'm going to be posting something--a thought, a picture, or maybe a full-fledged novel--every day. I know people like my blog because it's not just a "here's what I did and when I did it" type of format, so I'll still try to keep it theme-based and reflective on Taiwan and studying abroad.
Today: Taiwanese Friends
Making friends abroad is tough, especially when there's a language barrier. They're not in your classes. They're not in your cultural activities. They aren't in your classroom building, and you definitely can't just go up to them and ask to be friends! Asian culture is a lot less extroverted than Western culture, so it's even harder to strike up a conversation.
For the first four weeks here, we didn't have any Taiwanese friends. Take it from me: it sucked. There's nothing worse than being in the country and not being connected to it. You can live in the land and see what is to be seen, but for me, a place is all about the people who live there. When I look back on my experience in Beijing, it's not China I really miss--it's my friends who live there and are tied to it. I know if I go back, they will still be there. It was distressing to have no Taiwanese friends, because I felt like it would forever feel like a tourist run-through for me, not an experience of living abroad.
BUT--just when hope was dying, the planets aligned. We were asked to help out at Fu Jen's "English Camp" for incoming freshman, and it was there we met Valerie, one of the TAs, Henry, one of the campers, Mark, the photographer, and several other characters who have really made us feel at home here. The weekend after the camp, we went around the city and nommed the best food I've had here! We also got iced lemon green tea. Anyone who knows me knows I like tea. But this...this was SOMETHING ELSE! I'll spare the intimate details, but I'm going back to that shop. For. Sure.
The next day, our language partner, Jasmine, and her friend, Angela (nicknamed "Jellyfish" in Chinese) took us to an AMAZING hotpot buffet. It was absolutely incredible, and led to some hardcore bonding through conversation. I'm so glad they took us out...it seems the locals definitely know where to eat around here!
For the first time, I felt as though I was digging my heels into Taipei--the people we have met along the way are really making me fond of this place and giving me a reason to come back. Every time we've hung out, my face has hurt from laughing so much. From subway ninja to batting cages and arcades, I'm lucky to have made the friends I have. I really hope I can strengthen these ties before I leave, and maybe even make a couple new friends!
SO starting today, I'm going to be posting something--a thought, a picture, or maybe a full-fledged novel--every day. I know people like my blog because it's not just a "here's what I did and when I did it" type of format, so I'll still try to keep it theme-based and reflective on Taiwan and studying abroad.
Today: Taiwanese Friends
Making friends abroad is tough, especially when there's a language barrier. They're not in your classes. They're not in your cultural activities. They aren't in your classroom building, and you definitely can't just go up to them and ask to be friends! Asian culture is a lot less extroverted than Western culture, so it's even harder to strike up a conversation.
For the first four weeks here, we didn't have any Taiwanese friends. Take it from me: it sucked. There's nothing worse than being in the country and not being connected to it. You can live in the land and see what is to be seen, but for me, a place is all about the people who live there. When I look back on my experience in Beijing, it's not China I really miss--it's my friends who live there and are tied to it. I know if I go back, they will still be there. It was distressing to have no Taiwanese friends, because I felt like it would forever feel like a tourist run-through for me, not an experience of living abroad.
BUT--just when hope was dying, the planets aligned. We were asked to help out at Fu Jen's "English Camp" for incoming freshman, and it was there we met Valerie, one of the TAs, Henry, one of the campers, Mark, the photographer, and several other characters who have really made us feel at home here. The weekend after the camp, we went around the city and nommed the best food I've had here! We also got iced lemon green tea. Anyone who knows me knows I like tea. But this...this was SOMETHING ELSE! I'll spare the intimate details, but I'm going back to that shop. For. Sure.
The next day, our language partner, Jasmine, and her friend, Angela (nicknamed "Jellyfish" in Chinese) took us to an AMAZING hotpot buffet. It was absolutely incredible, and led to some hardcore bonding through conversation. I'm so glad they took us out...it seems the locals definitely know where to eat around here!
For the first time, I felt as though I was digging my heels into Taipei--the people we have met along the way are really making me fond of this place and giving me a reason to come back. Every time we've hung out, my face has hurt from laughing so much. From subway ninja to batting cages and arcades, I'm lucky to have made the friends I have. I really hope I can strengthen these ties before I leave, and maybe even make a couple new friends!
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Callibration
The last couple of weeks have been both challenging and rewarding. For the most part, I have been attempting to adapt to life in the Fu Jen program after CIEE's Peking University program. Many assume Taiwan and China, or all of Asia, for that matter, are very similar. This could not be further from the truth!
The strangest part of my experience here is the size of the program: there are five of us here from Notre Dame. Aside from a few foreigners, mostly from Japan or Indonesia, there are no other foreigners in our classes. It's a little daunting to me after the sheer size of Beijing Daxue's program: there were almost fifty of us spread out across the levels, all American students, put together with several thousand other international students. Needless to say, there was always someone to hang out with. Here, there are five of us. Luckily, we've gotten on pretty well, but it can be a bit lonely when the four other people are busy, tired, etc.
Classes are also kind of odd at the moment. There are only four levels of Chinese instruction at Fu Jen as opposed to the 35 at PKU. There was no placement test, but I somehow ended up in the most advanced classes, after coming from a solidly intermediate class in Beijing. This makes me a little nervous, for obvious reasons. The classes I'm in are extremely small. For two of the three classes, it is just Wendy(also from ND), myself, and the teacher. The main class has a few Japanese, Indonesian, and Vietnamese kids who are akin to Chinese-speaking robots--they never make mistakes. On every single test, no matter how badly Wendy and I have done, they have all gotten perfect scores. Intimidating? Yeah.
I have three classes--the first is one centered around reading the newspaper, the second around Confucian Philosophy, and the third on ancient history. The topics seem to be a handful in English, but these are in Chinese all the way. The teacher for two of them is awesome, super nice and always up for a detour to talk about something else. I often steer the conversation to something more useful, like, say politics! <junkie!> Honestly though, Confucian ethics is useful, but sometimes I just want to practice speaking regular Chinese...
My brain pretty much turns to mush every afternoon after four to six hours of full language immersion, but I'm beginning to think I can hold my own if I prepare enough. We go so fast! There are no activities really, it's just vocab-news article-next chapter vocab-article...etc. The history one is this old lady who wears a back brace and is quite Catholic school in terms of personality and strictness, if you catch my drift! I'm totally scared of her, but we'll see if I can't get on her good side. If there is one. She will blab on for about twenty minutes at a stretch and then quickly say "understand?!" Needless to say, it's a little tough to tell her you had no idea what she said...I also kind of like teasing her though! Sometimes I tell her I can't understand her Taiwanese accent, which makes her really flustered. "WHAT TAIWANESE ACCENT?!" she moans at me. I tell her Beijing is the standard and Taiwanese is way different. That usually prompts a smack with the dictionary, hahaha!
Overall, though, I am rising to the challenge. It may require a lot more work than Beida, but I feel like the rewards will be much greater!
The strangest part of my experience here is the size of the program: there are five of us here from Notre Dame. Aside from a few foreigners, mostly from Japan or Indonesia, there are no other foreigners in our classes. It's a little daunting to me after the sheer size of Beijing Daxue's program: there were almost fifty of us spread out across the levels, all American students, put together with several thousand other international students. Needless to say, there was always someone to hang out with. Here, there are five of us. Luckily, we've gotten on pretty well, but it can be a bit lonely when the four other people are busy, tired, etc.
Classes are also kind of odd at the moment. There are only four levels of Chinese instruction at Fu Jen as opposed to the 35 at PKU. There was no placement test, but I somehow ended up in the most advanced classes, after coming from a solidly intermediate class in Beijing. This makes me a little nervous, for obvious reasons. The classes I'm in are extremely small. For two of the three classes, it is just Wendy(also from ND), myself, and the teacher. The main class has a few Japanese, Indonesian, and Vietnamese kids who are akin to Chinese-speaking robots--they never make mistakes. On every single test, no matter how badly Wendy and I have done, they have all gotten perfect scores. Intimidating? Yeah.
I have three classes--the first is one centered around reading the newspaper, the second around Confucian Philosophy, and the third on ancient history. The topics seem to be a handful in English, but these are in Chinese all the way. The teacher for two of them is awesome, super nice and always up for a detour to talk about something else. I often steer the conversation to something more useful, like, say politics! <junkie!> Honestly though, Confucian ethics is useful, but sometimes I just want to practice speaking regular Chinese...
My brain pretty much turns to mush every afternoon after four to six hours of full language immersion, but I'm beginning to think I can hold my own if I prepare enough. We go so fast! There are no activities really, it's just vocab-news article-next chapter vocab-article...etc. The history one is this old lady who wears a back brace and is quite Catholic school in terms of personality and strictness, if you catch my drift! I'm totally scared of her, but we'll see if I can't get on her good side. If there is one. She will blab on for about twenty minutes at a stretch and then quickly say "understand?!" Needless to say, it's a little tough to tell her you had no idea what she said...I also kind of like teasing her though! Sometimes I tell her I can't understand her Taiwanese accent, which makes her really flustered. "WHAT TAIWANESE ACCENT?!" she moans at me. I tell her Beijing is the standard and Taiwanese is way different. That usually prompts a smack with the dictionary, hahaha!
Overall, though, I am rising to the challenge. It may require a lot more work than Beida, but I feel like the rewards will be much greater!
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Level 2
Alright, my fair people, I have arrived in Taipei! Getting here was so-so, mainly because, while it was a bit more challenging in ways, I was better equipped to handle it from Beijing. So it's kind of like Pokemon...I leveled up my Charizard, so now it can handle the tougher opponents!
Twenty hours of plane. Twenty. But everything went relatively smoothly. Except for when my medical cooler got cross-examined at LAX. I feel like people who work at airport security act like they have senses of humor but really don't...it's happened multiple times where they smile as they goofily tell me to take out my laptop, and I reply, in a very friendly manner, "I know the deal..."
But then she will retort something like "Well. A lot of people don't know the 'deal'". Well excuse me for trying to brighten your day, lady. Psh.
But after an eternity of Hunger Games-the-airport-version competitions for outlets, overhead bins, and passage through immigration, I was set free onto the streets of Taipei! The university sent a girl named Gloria to pick me up. Yes, Gloria, as in the ghost who haunts my room.
I could tell immediately that Taiwan really is worlds apart from mainland China, or at least Beijing. The geography is gorgeous: rolling, green mountains, dotted with palm trees and strange, tropical vegetation. They skies are the kind of electric gray, as if they are ready to produce epic thunderstorms at any minute. Gloria told me that if you get caught in the rain, your hair would fall out cause of the acid in it. UUUUMMMMM.
We're staying in a hotel-dorm thing across the street from the university. I have a single with a bathroom, fridge, tv, desk, and bed. AND AIR CONDITIONING. YES! I'm pretty sure I can see Taipei 101 from my window (eeep!).
This time around, things are a bit more challenging just because of the solitude of the trip. No Bobby accompanying me on the flight, looking back with a mischievous smile every so often. No Ali waiting at the airport, ready to red guard anyone who gets in our way, or break out mad Chinese skills. Even the program directors have been absent thus far. The other four kids in the program haven't gotten in yet, so I've been by myself setting up. It's good and bad: I like peace and quiet sometimes, and it's nice to be so free to explore. On the other hand, I'm in this new place with no guidance at all, and it kind of freaks me out to be going this alone! But, after my experience in Beijing, I knew I couldn't hide in my room! It's odd how when you are dropped into a new environment, on your own, you just want to hole up. It took me about three hours to get out of my room after I finished unpacking. I changed my clothes three times because I had some primal need to look my best just to scout the area.
The neighborhood is idyllic. Long streets with colorful signs and interesting shops along the way. Mopeds are the main thing here, and I snicker as I see Hello Kitty and Pikachu themed helmets.
After a lunch at the chain Yoshinoya (which had WAY different food than Beijing! I also freaked when the bill was $160 for one bowl--but which translates to only $5.33 USD), I made my way into the Fu Jen campus. I knew immediately being at a Catholic school in Asia would be really unique, and it permeates the campus. Exotic trees shelter the paths, and twisted roots dance along the ground. Peking University had tame stray cats, and Fu Jen has DOGS! Everywhere, semi-stray dogs run and play. The students seem to take care of them. I saw three people pinning down one dog while he got a bath! I heard that Taiwan has some of the worst treatment of strays in the world, and I'm not sure if that was wrong, or if Fu Jen does this as a Catholic charity type thing, but it made me really happy. So happy that I pet a pathetic-looking dog, who nuzzled right up to me and asked for a belly rub. After fifty hand-washings and a good rub down of purell, I think I'm safe from the mange I noticed she had...but maybe fifty-one to be sure?
Taiwanese people are so POLITE. A guy accidentally cut me in 7/11 and apologized before getting behind me. In Beijing, the guy would have knocked me over to get to the front! (No offense to my Beijing buddies, of course!) I don't know why the culture is so different here, but I'm looking forward to more observations like this...if only I could UNDERSTAND THEIR DIALECT x_x
Anyways, that's all for the first day! This is definitely a rambling post, but I wanted to get out my first impressions. YOU probably just look at the pictures anyways. Go back to Facebook now.
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| I'm sorry...it had to happen |
Twenty hours of plane. Twenty. But everything went relatively smoothly. Except for when my medical cooler got cross-examined at LAX. I feel like people who work at airport security act like they have senses of humor but really don't...it's happened multiple times where they smile as they goofily tell me to take out my laptop, and I reply, in a very friendly manner, "I know the deal..."
But then she will retort something like "Well. A lot of people don't know the 'deal'". Well excuse me for trying to brighten your day, lady. Psh.
But after an eternity of Hunger Games-the-airport-version competitions for outlets, overhead bins, and passage through immigration, I was set free onto the streets of Taipei! The university sent a girl named Gloria to pick me up. Yes, Gloria, as in the ghost who haunts my room.
I could tell immediately that Taiwan really is worlds apart from mainland China, or at least Beijing. The geography is gorgeous: rolling, green mountains, dotted with palm trees and strange, tropical vegetation. They skies are the kind of electric gray, as if they are ready to produce epic thunderstorms at any minute. Gloria told me that if you get caught in the rain, your hair would fall out cause of the acid in it. UUUUMMMMM.
We're staying in a hotel-dorm thing across the street from the university. I have a single with a bathroom, fridge, tv, desk, and bed. AND AIR CONDITIONING. YES! I'm pretty sure I can see Taipei 101 from my window (eeep!).
 |
| Look way back in the skyline to what I think might be Taipei 101 |
This time around, things are a bit more challenging just because of the solitude of the trip. No Bobby accompanying me on the flight, looking back with a mischievous smile every so often. No Ali waiting at the airport, ready to red guard anyone who gets in our way, or break out mad Chinese skills. Even the program directors have been absent thus far. The other four kids in the program haven't gotten in yet, so I've been by myself setting up. It's good and bad: I like peace and quiet sometimes, and it's nice to be so free to explore. On the other hand, I'm in this new place with no guidance at all, and it kind of freaks me out to be going this alone! But, after my experience in Beijing, I knew I couldn't hide in my room! It's odd how when you are dropped into a new environment, on your own, you just want to hole up. It took me about three hours to get out of my room after I finished unpacking. I changed my clothes three times because I had some primal need to look my best just to scout the area.
The neighborhood is idyllic. Long streets with colorful signs and interesting shops along the way. Mopeds are the main thing here, and I snicker as I see Hello Kitty and Pikachu themed helmets.
 |
| Fu Jen on the right, FOOD Jen on the left! Get it? Get it? |
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| The beginning of a Mario Kart race? |
After a lunch at the chain Yoshinoya (which had WAY different food than Beijing! I also freaked when the bill was $160 for one bowl--but which translates to only $5.33 USD), I made my way into the Fu Jen campus. I knew immediately being at a Catholic school in Asia would be really unique, and it permeates the campus. Exotic trees shelter the paths, and twisted roots dance along the ground. Peking University had tame stray cats, and Fu Jen has DOGS! Everywhere, semi-stray dogs run and play. The students seem to take care of them. I saw three people pinning down one dog while he got a bath! I heard that Taiwan has some of the worst treatment of strays in the world, and I'm not sure if that was wrong, or if Fu Jen does this as a Catholic charity type thing, but it made me really happy. So happy that I pet a pathetic-looking dog, who nuzzled right up to me and asked for a belly rub. After fifty hand-washings and a good rub down of purell, I think I'm safe from the mange I noticed she had...but maybe fifty-one to be sure?
 |
| Dog being washed against his will. |
Friday, June 1, 2012
Deja Vu
Today I leave for Taiwan. I've been home for the past week, doing pretty much nothing. The best kind of nothing. In a lot of ways, packing for this trip is a lot like packing for Beijing--but a million times easier.
This program is eight weeks long, as opposed to Beijing's fourteen. I feel so much better having gone through the motions once already--what to bring, what not to bring, and most importantly, what to expect. My language skills are much better than before, so I am confident of my ability to get around. Learning traditional characters is going to be a problem, as about a quarter of characters are written differently than on the mainland. They are simply not as simple as the simplified characters of the PRC!
I have a lot of hopes for Taiwan--that I will improve significantly in my Chinese (without having to pull my teeth out), that I will learn about Taiwan's way-of-life, and really make Taipei my own. I think I'm most excited to compare Taipei with Beijing, and how the political split of 1949 has affected their respective societies. Oh, and, apparently the food is really good too :P
Anyways, there's this song that's just surfacing, and it's been in my head all day. It applies to this blog because it's a Chinese girl named Wanting (曲婉婷) . Her music is amazing. I think she's from Harbin, which is a Northern city famous for its ice buildings. Take a listen--Jar of Love
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XgqnkT3ehfg&feature=related
Anyways, my flight is here and I am on my way to LA, then to Taipei. See you after 20 hours of plane...!
This program is eight weeks long, as opposed to Beijing's fourteen. I feel so much better having gone through the motions once already--what to bring, what not to bring, and most importantly, what to expect. My language skills are much better than before, so I am confident of my ability to get around. Learning traditional characters is going to be a problem, as about a quarter of characters are written differently than on the mainland. They are simply not as simple as the simplified characters of the PRC!
I have a lot of hopes for Taiwan--that I will improve significantly in my Chinese (without having to pull my teeth out), that I will learn about Taiwan's way-of-life, and really make Taipei my own. I think I'm most excited to compare Taipei with Beijing, and how the political split of 1949 has affected their respective societies. Oh, and, apparently the food is really good too :P
Anyways, there's this song that's just surfacing, and it's been in my head all day. It applies to this blog because it's a Chinese girl named Wanting (曲婉婷) . Her music is amazing. I think she's from Harbin, which is a Northern city famous for its ice buildings. Take a listen--Jar of Love
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XgqnkT3ehfg&feature=related
Anyways, my flight is here and I am on my way to LA, then to Taipei. See you after 20 hours of plane...!
Thursday, May 31, 2012
再见，北京
From the night before I left Beijing:
May 19th, 2012:
As I sit here at my host home, half-heartedly tossing random objects I don't want to forget into my two gigantic suitcases, the wave of reality at my impending departure repeatedly washes over me. In it's wake is a lot of mixed emotion.
I guess I'll start by saying how much I'm going to miss this place. This smoggy, industrial, ugly city has really grown on me...kind of like the mold that is growing in that tea thermos under the bed...ew.
Beijing is a complicated place. There's so much tradition here. So much heritage. The past fifty years, however, saw a movement to completely overthrow that system. Uncontrolled teenagers rampaged through sacred temples, smashing and slicing and scribbling away their own history in the name of modernism. But now? Beijing doesn't know what to do. It now respects its old self, but still yearns to grow. The result, reflected in the ancient hutongs it bulldozes down and simultaneously attempts to protect, and in the people who profess atheist communist rationality while espousing traditional superstition. Beijing is changing quickly, as every person who knows nothing about China but wants to say something has told me, but it's so much more than that. It's calibrating, and witnessing that has been exhilarating. There's nothing quite like riding a shiny new subway to an ancient neighborhood to play traditional mahjong.
Then there are the people. My host family. I'm gonna miss my host mom's smiling face and crazy hair. I'm gonna miss her food even more. I'm definitely NOT going to miss the constant smoking from my host dad, but we bonded a little bit in the past few weeks. I still feel like I'm assaulting him when I burst forth with my Chinese as soon as I come in the door. I'm excited for home, just as I expect they are excited for their real daughter (yes, I'm referring to myself as a very masculine surrogate daughter, haaa).
I'm going to miss sweet-natured Eric. I don't think I've ever seen someone so timid pull out such violent kung fu moves. I'm actually going to miss trying to escape as he fails to pick up social cues when practicing his English on me...okay Eric...okay...I've got to go...okay, Eric....uh-huh... :)
I'm going to miss that crazy-lovable Aussie Sophia, whose exploits and mishaps are eternally entertaining, and the graceful Indonesians Bonita and Ingrid, and all of the foreigners I have met here. I have been exposed to a global patchwork here, and because of people like kind-hearted German Lena, and quiet-yet-clever Conrado, I have seen the goodness that permeates the entire world.
I'm going to miss the CIEE office staff, from the witty John to the effervescent Elena, to the adorable Clover, and the rest of the crew...I'm really going to miss stopping by there during my day!
I'm going to miss my Beijing native buddy Lexus (and Cherry!)--I don't think I've ever become such good friends with someone so quickly. It really is a shame I only met him a week before I left, but this bromance is just beginning! One of the most important things for me when I set out for Beijing was to establish a real, genuine connection with someone rooted in Beijing. It's something you can't force, and I'm lucky to have found such a good friend at all. All the more reason to come back here!
What else? There's more that I know I'm forgetting. Odds and ends. I'm going to miss the steamed dumpling place, right next to the milk tea with the amazing smoothies! I'm going to miss the community of our Hanyu class, and the goofy attitude of our Tingli laoshi. I'm going to miss going everywhere on the clean, easy-to-navigate subway, and I'm going to miss the magnitude of the ancient monuments. I may even miss the smog. A teeny, tiny, eency-weency bit.
Not.
So, friends, I guess this is where I lay out the things to come. This isn't the end of my Beijing writing...I still have some stuff to cover, (like the desert trip, inner mongolia, the countryside, religion in China, etc.) so look for that. However, while this isn't the end of Beijing, Beijing isn't the end, either. In June and July, I will be studying at Fu Jen Catholic University in the Republic of China, also known as the is-it-is-it-not-independent island of Taiwan. It will really be a continuation of Beijing with a different flare, as I will explore, as well as the beginning of my research on the political status of Taiwan!
The rain, so rare in Beijing, now pours down, flooding the dusty earth. In a way, it is almost too symbolic, as if it's the tears being released from somewhere deep inside my mind at the thought of leaving. Or maybe, Beijing is sad to see me go. At the same time, however, it's almost as if it is cleaning the slate--washing away all the memories that have accumulated this spring, me included. Rebirth is coming--in a few weeks, after we have left, new students will come to study here, to live in this room, and to walk the ancient streets that we once walked. For Beijing, and for me, too, it is a fresh, new start.
May 19th, 2012:
As I sit here at my host home, half-heartedly tossing random objects I don't want to forget into my two gigantic suitcases, the wave of reality at my impending departure repeatedly washes over me. In it's wake is a lot of mixed emotion.
I guess I'll start by saying how much I'm going to miss this place. This smoggy, industrial, ugly city has really grown on me...kind of like the mold that is growing in that tea thermos under the bed...ew.
Beijing is a complicated place. There's so much tradition here. So much heritage. The past fifty years, however, saw a movement to completely overthrow that system. Uncontrolled teenagers rampaged through sacred temples, smashing and slicing and scribbling away their own history in the name of modernism. But now? Beijing doesn't know what to do. It now respects its old self, but still yearns to grow. The result, reflected in the ancient hutongs it bulldozes down and simultaneously attempts to protect, and in the people who profess atheist communist rationality while espousing traditional superstition. Beijing is changing quickly, as every person who knows nothing about China but wants to say something has told me, but it's so much more than that. It's calibrating, and witnessing that has been exhilarating. There's nothing quite like riding a shiny new subway to an ancient neighborhood to play traditional mahjong.
Then there are the people. My host family. I'm gonna miss my host mom's smiling face and crazy hair. I'm gonna miss her food even more. I'm definitely NOT going to miss the constant smoking from my host dad, but we bonded a little bit in the past few weeks. I still feel like I'm assaulting him when I burst forth with my Chinese as soon as I come in the door. I'm excited for home, just as I expect they are excited for their real daughter (yes, I'm referring to myself as a very masculine surrogate daughter, haaa).
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| Just woke up...don't judge! |
I'm going to miss sweet-natured Eric. I don't think I've ever seen someone so timid pull out such violent kung fu moves. I'm actually going to miss trying to escape as he fails to pick up social cues when practicing his English on me...okay Eric...okay...I've got to go...okay, Eric....uh-huh... :)
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| Eric on the right, Jacob and Lena on the left |
I'm going to miss the CIEE office staff, from the witty John to the effervescent Elena, to the adorable Clover, and the rest of the crew...I'm really going to miss stopping by there during my day!
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| Look closely and you'll see Gloria |
I'm going to miss my Beijing native buddy Lexus (and Cherry!)--I don't think I've ever become such good friends with someone so quickly. It really is a shame I only met him a week before I left, but this bromance is just beginning! One of the most important things for me when I set out for Beijing was to establish a real, genuine connection with someone rooted in Beijing. It's something you can't force, and I'm lucky to have found such a good friend at all. All the more reason to come back here!
What else? There's more that I know I'm forgetting. Odds and ends. I'm going to miss the steamed dumpling place, right next to the milk tea with the amazing smoothies! I'm going to miss the community of our Hanyu class, and the goofy attitude of our Tingli laoshi. I'm going to miss going everywhere on the clean, easy-to-navigate subway, and I'm going to miss the magnitude of the ancient monuments. I may even miss the smog. A teeny, tiny, eency-weency bit.
Not.
So, friends, I guess this is where I lay out the things to come. This isn't the end of my Beijing writing...I still have some stuff to cover, (like the desert trip, inner mongolia, the countryside, religion in China, etc.) so look for that. However, while this isn't the end of Beijing, Beijing isn't the end, either. In June and July, I will be studying at Fu Jen Catholic University in the Republic of China, also known as the is-it-is-it-not-independent island of Taiwan. It will really be a continuation of Beijing with a different flare, as I will explore, as well as the beginning of my research on the political status of Taiwan!
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| Last sunset in Beijing |
Thursday, May 10, 2012
The End is Near!
I can't believe it's already here.
Was it not last month that I was hastily moving through the airport, looking for a random Chinese person holding a CIEE sign?
Was it not last week that I was starting classes, deciding on my level, and meeting my tutor for the first time in the library?
Was it not yesterday that I was moving in with my host family, anxious about our compatibility?
And I feel like I'm still waiting for the oft mentioned "culture shock" to kick in, forcing me to pull my hair out in frustration with unfamiliar behavior. Yet, no such thing has happened. Sure, Chinese society (after the countless essays I had to write on it, I refuse to use the word culture!) embraces different behavior. Pushiness is acceptable, and the concept of a line doesn't quite exist. When walking, no one really keeps to the right side of the path, and traffic is the most chaotic jumble ever, but none of it really bothers me. In fact, I feel I've adapted well. I no longer hesitate to ask people personal questions, or stare at passersby. I am getting better at the implicit communication Asian societies embody. When my host mom casts a quick glance at my bare feet, I know I need to put on my terribly nerdy slippers when walking around the apartment.
As for my Chinese, I feel as though I have greatly improved in different areas. Not only has writing characters become easier, but I feel so much more comfortable speaking. Gone is the nervous tension when listening, and I now blab as unceasingly as in my native tongue. I'm sure it's not all correct, and there are some times when I know the listener doesn't understand me, but it's such a relief to let my personality shine through instead of the awkward and robotic reactions I had before coming.
I've been making more and more Chinese friends too. It's never planned; they come from all backgrounds and situations, but I'm going to miss them all...
Some students go abroad just to party ad infinitum, or take advantage of easy classes, or just to "get away" from the US, but to those who have a genuine purpose to your time abroad, a semester may not do.
To all of you out there thinking of studying abroad: if you seriously care about learning the language and making genuine connections to the locals, A SEMESTER IS NOT LONG ENOUGH!
It has gone by in the blink of an eye. Of course the semester I have had has been wonderful, but more time would have been welcome. I was worried that if I didn't like the program, a year would be miserably long. Given that twelve weeks have flashed by, I think even an unhappy year would have been tolerable.
It is a tough call. I really didn't want to leave my ND world behind for a full year, but I did come up with a solution: this summer, I will be living in Taipei, Taiwan, where I will continue to study Chinese. This way, I can keep working on my proficiency.
As for the friends I've made here in Beijing, there's only one solution: I'm just going to have to come back someday.
Was it not last month that I was hastily moving through the airport, looking for a random Chinese person holding a CIEE sign?
Was it not last week that I was starting classes, deciding on my level, and meeting my tutor for the first time in the library?
Was it not yesterday that I was moving in with my host family, anxious about our compatibility?
And I feel like I'm still waiting for the oft mentioned "culture shock" to kick in, forcing me to pull my hair out in frustration with unfamiliar behavior. Yet, no such thing has happened. Sure, Chinese society (after the countless essays I had to write on it, I refuse to use the word culture!) embraces different behavior. Pushiness is acceptable, and the concept of a line doesn't quite exist. When walking, no one really keeps to the right side of the path, and traffic is the most chaotic jumble ever, but none of it really bothers me. In fact, I feel I've adapted well. I no longer hesitate to ask people personal questions, or stare at passersby. I am getting better at the implicit communication Asian societies embody. When my host mom casts a quick glance at my bare feet, I know I need to put on my terribly nerdy slippers when walking around the apartment.
As for my Chinese, I feel as though I have greatly improved in different areas. Not only has writing characters become easier, but I feel so much more comfortable speaking. Gone is the nervous tension when listening, and I now blab as unceasingly as in my native tongue. I'm sure it's not all correct, and there are some times when I know the listener doesn't understand me, but it's such a relief to let my personality shine through instead of the awkward and robotic reactions I had before coming.
I've been making more and more Chinese friends too. It's never planned; they come from all backgrounds and situations, but I'm going to miss them all...
Some students go abroad just to party ad infinitum, or take advantage of easy classes, or just to "get away" from the US, but to those who have a genuine purpose to your time abroad, a semester may not do.
To all of you out there thinking of studying abroad: if you seriously care about learning the language and making genuine connections to the locals, A SEMESTER IS NOT LONG ENOUGH!
It has gone by in the blink of an eye. Of course the semester I have had has been wonderful, but more time would have been welcome. I was worried that if I didn't like the program, a year would be miserably long. Given that twelve weeks have flashed by, I think even an unhappy year would have been tolerable.
It is a tough call. I really didn't want to leave my ND world behind for a full year, but I did come up with a solution: this summer, I will be living in Taipei, Taiwan, where I will continue to study Chinese. This way, I can keep working on my proficiency.
As for the friends I've made here in Beijing, there's only one solution: I'm just going to have to come back someday.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Climbing the Phoenix
Today, CIEE held an excursion to Phoenix Mountain, just outside Beijing. The hike is a few hours long.
The mountain is full of history, and Buddhist/Daoist temples line the path. A lot of the monks live there permanently, being at peace in the relative solitude of nature (until twenty loud Waiguoren come stomping through).
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| So sad! I guess it has a pretty strong message though. |
I was really unsure about my ability to keep up with some of the more athletic people in our group. Traditionally throughout my life, I have been the one dying at the back of the pack. This time, however, I had absolutely no problem keeping up, which was a nice change. Maybe I do have an ounce of athleticism SOMEWHERE in my body!
Some boundaries were pushed today! There was this stretch called the "Stairway to Heaven" which was basically a vertical path in the face of the rock with little footholds and a chain to provide support. It goes on for quite a while, too, the picture is deceiving. I was really excited for the thrill of doing something crazy, but about halfway up I started silently panicking! All I could think about was slipping and plunging to my death, taking out three or four people with me! :O
I held on and told myself to knock off the melodrama, and I got to the top! It was really cool! Everyone in our group did it. No one turned back at any point, which really impressed the resident director.
The blossoms have come out, and the view of the Beijing plain was absolutely gorgeous.
Rock that could collapse at any moment? Yawn.
The top!
Cassie scales the mountain.
Summit joys!
Resident director Lu Laoshi is kind of a boss. Totally fearless.
The summit from a little ways down.
Stopping at a little pavilion.
Overall, I was really impressed with our hardiness today. I was always a little abashed that one of the meanings of my Chinese name was "ascending the misty mountain" because I was always horrible at these types of things. Today, however, I held up well!
I guess in a lot of ways, climbing a mountain is really metaphorical. You really have to pace yourself while not being daunted by the sheer mass of height before you, also not letting yourself panic at the dangers you must face. The summit isn't the end, either--it is only the halfway point! You still have to come all the way back down, with legs shaking and water running low. Once you get to the bottom, though, sheer euphoria sets in!
I was so glad I went. I felt fine once I finished, that is, until I passed out the moment I got home and slept for five hours! It was the type of nap where you wake up stuck to a drying puddle of drool. Beautiful imagery right there. I'm still tired, but I feel like these things make life exciting! The challenge, the rush, and the bonding really make it all a memorable experience.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Growing Up in Chinese
A lot of times here in China, I feel as though we are only as old as our language skills.
Chinese is a notoriously difficult language to learn. If you think the classroom sessions of guessing at tones, remembering obscure 12-stroke characters, and learning odd grammar structures which "don't really exist" in the language is challenging, then brace yourself for your first day in China.
It happens again and again: you know how much you know, with all your vocabulary swimming in your head, ready to whip out and impress Chinese people with.
And then she speaks.
You have no idea what monster just flung itself from inside her mouth.
You stare blankly.
She stares blankly, back at you.
The awkward turtle strikes again.
But one thing that really helps is to simply ask them to slow down a little. Also, never forget that you most likely can explain what you are trying say in other words, even if you don't know the direct word for it. For example: "That thing that's like a small car, that one person rides, which has two wheels and goes fast." If someone said that to you, you'd most likely understand that it's a bicycle. If not, don't teach English to foreigners.
While this roundabout way of explaining simple things is sometimes demeaning, we just have to remind ourselves are are still growing up in Chinese: most of us are just big toddlers in terms of our Chinese skills. Especially with my host mom, I feel as though sometimes there is no possible way she understands what I am babbling on about, but she plays along accordingly. Sometimes I think similar things happen with small children, but it's how they learn.
I feel even more like a toddler in my inability to discuss deep topics, such as why North Korea scares a lot of Americans.
What I want to say: "They want to build nuclear bombs and threaten to decimate the populations of other countries, or at least establish themselves as a credible threat to the US. They also may not fit into the supposedly safer mutually-assured-destruction theory world, as they may not hesitate to use the nukes where other leaders would consider the well-being and safety of their people."
What I say: "They want to hit a lot of people, and kill them. They want to make a thing which will go BOOM in other countries." (with dramatic hand gestures)
Sigh. So is growing up. I may have a college-level American brain, but my Chinese brain is still in Kindergarten. It's funny though, because I definitely feel the change since I've been here. Just talking with Chinese people on the street, I can feel myself becoming more comfortable with the language. It doesn't sound so awkward and clanky when I am chit-chatting with my host-mom on the couch, and at times I forget I'm using Chinese altogether. That's the coolest feeling. I would never have been able to learn this in a classroom, with rigid curriculum and a teacher waiting to judge your every word. Obviously, the classes help to learn new vocab, but it's the practice that makes the difference. I am continually astounded with how often something we learned that very day comes up in a conversation. Maybe it was there the whole time, but I just didn't see it there before?
I'm really starting to get in my groove here. I finally see why studying abroad is so beneficial to learning the language. Each day has new challenges, awkward moments, and even frustrating times, but I love it.
Chinese is a notoriously difficult language to learn. If you think the classroom sessions of guessing at tones, remembering obscure 12-stroke characters, and learning odd grammar structures which "don't really exist" in the language is challenging, then brace yourself for your first day in China.
It happens again and again: you know how much you know, with all your vocabulary swimming in your head, ready to whip out and impress Chinese people with.
And then she speaks.
You have no idea what monster just flung itself from inside her mouth.
You stare blankly.
She stares blankly, back at you.
The awkward turtle strikes again.
But one thing that really helps is to simply ask them to slow down a little. Also, never forget that you most likely can explain what you are trying say in other words, even if you don't know the direct word for it. For example: "That thing that's like a small car, that one person rides, which has two wheels and goes fast." If someone said that to you, you'd most likely understand that it's a bicycle. If not, don't teach English to foreigners.
While this roundabout way of explaining simple things is sometimes demeaning, we just have to remind ourselves are are still growing up in Chinese: most of us are just big toddlers in terms of our Chinese skills. Especially with my host mom, I feel as though sometimes there is no possible way she understands what I am babbling on about, but she plays along accordingly. Sometimes I think similar things happen with small children, but it's how they learn.
I feel even more like a toddler in my inability to discuss deep topics, such as why North Korea scares a lot of Americans.
What I want to say: "They want to build nuclear bombs and threaten to decimate the populations of other countries, or at least establish themselves as a credible threat to the US. They also may not fit into the supposedly safer mutually-assured-destruction theory world, as they may not hesitate to use the nukes where other leaders would consider the well-being and safety of their people."
What I say: "They want to hit a lot of people, and kill them. They want to make a thing which will go BOOM in other countries." (with dramatic hand gestures)
Sigh. So is growing up. I may have a college-level American brain, but my Chinese brain is still in Kindergarten. It's funny though, because I definitely feel the change since I've been here. Just talking with Chinese people on the street, I can feel myself becoming more comfortable with the language. It doesn't sound so awkward and clanky when I am chit-chatting with my host-mom on the couch, and at times I forget I'm using Chinese altogether. That's the coolest feeling. I would never have been able to learn this in a classroom, with rigid curriculum and a teacher waiting to judge your every word. Obviously, the classes help to learn new vocab, but it's the practice that makes the difference. I am continually astounded with how often something we learned that very day comes up in a conversation. Maybe it was there the whole time, but I just didn't see it there before?
I'm really starting to get in my groove here. I finally see why studying abroad is so beneficial to learning the language. Each day has new challenges, awkward moments, and even frustrating times, but I love it.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Down the Rabbit Hole
Ali and I have been attending a kung fu class sporadically for the past month. It is held nightly on the track by the edge of campus, a place bustling with students as they go about their various exercise routines.
Tonight, however, the kung fu instructor, a student, was to hold practice in the basement of a classroom building so we could use the mirrors to check our stances. Ali was preoccupied with her upcoming midterms, so I found myself venturing into the massive building alone. There were so many rooms and so many people; I had no idea where to go other than down.
I found the stairs by accident, and plunged into complete darkness. The air grew cool and damp, and I realized the basement wasn't what I had imagined: a modern dance studio with mirrors along the wall, wooden floors, and maybe a nice stereo. Instead, I was thrown into one of the strangest scenarios I have ever encountered.
The first thing I noticed was the walls: bare, white, and dirty. I felt as though I were in some closed off parking garage, and wondered if I was in the right place. Somewhere in the distance, accordions played unrecognizable melodies which eerily bounced off the walls.
Then I saw the bikes. Thousands upon thousands of bikes, piled, stacked, leaning against one another, and simply thrown on the ground. Pink ones, blue ones, green ones, and red ones, all obscured by a thick layer of dust. I couldn't comprehend what I saw before me--how could so many bikes be in one place? Where on earth had they come from, and for how long had they all been here? Some had dried out vines on them, some were missing wheels, and some had no seats. The garage went on and on, with ramps and doors leading to more bikes. Tossed amongst the bikes was everything imaginable: clothes, shoes, bags, trash, boxes, books, and more. I shuffled through one small, yellow book to see that the first page had faded completely in the time it had been exposed to the lights of the garage. The rest of the pages revealed that it was some sort of propaganda book.
Over everything was heavy coating of brown soot. I simply could not fathom whether or not all of this was real; it was so strange. I felt as though I were in a dream. Between the impossibly endless bikes, maze-like, multi-level garage, eerie accordion music, and distant, bodiless voices, I felt as though I were in a completely different realm. Just as Alice found Wonderland, Chihiro found the Tea House, and Darby O'Gill found the realm of the Little People, I felt as though I had found my own parallel universe. It seemed to me that reflected in all of these bikes was the endless expanse of time. At some point in history, each bike had an owner. At another point in history, the owner had left the bike to rust and rot amongst the chambers of forgotten ages. Here I was, browsing through this gallery of time, being watched by the tragic, unloved creatures strewn from floor to ceiling.
I found the kung fu lesson, in the heart of this strange realm. I was the only one there, which added to the sense of isolation. As the instructor guided me through the exercises, I couldn't help but wonder about my own bike. The slick, silver "Wolf" brand (affectionately named "Wolfie") was my essential means of transportation. On this sleek and silent beast, I practically floated around campus, weaving effortlessly amongst the slow walkers. When my time here was up, what would become of it? Would it end up in this catacomb, rusting away while I leave this place and live my life elsewhere? Would it be here, covered in dust, for decades and for centuries?
I suppose it was a strange reminder of our ethereal mortality. We live as though we are the first, the only, and the last. We are ignorant to the countless others who have lived equally important lives before us, and will never know of the endless stretch who come after. All we have is relics of the past, decaying pieces of an era that we can never know.
As I packed up and wandered through the garage, I stopped and stood for a moment. This wasn't just a basement or a garage. It was a tomb for the past. A memorial to all things now gone. The accordion music and strange voices haunted me as I moved up the ramp, but as soon as the cold March air hit my cheeks and I stepped outside, the sounds stopped abruptly.
And there was Wolfie, shiny and new, ready to race through the blissful world of open air in the here and now.
Tonight, however, the kung fu instructor, a student, was to hold practice in the basement of a classroom building so we could use the mirrors to check our stances. Ali was preoccupied with her upcoming midterms, so I found myself venturing into the massive building alone. There were so many rooms and so many people; I had no idea where to go other than down.
I found the stairs by accident, and plunged into complete darkness. The air grew cool and damp, and I realized the basement wasn't what I had imagined: a modern dance studio with mirrors along the wall, wooden floors, and maybe a nice stereo. Instead, I was thrown into one of the strangest scenarios I have ever encountered.
The first thing I noticed was the walls: bare, white, and dirty. I felt as though I were in some closed off parking garage, and wondered if I was in the right place. Somewhere in the distance, accordions played unrecognizable melodies which eerily bounced off the walls.
Then I saw the bikes. Thousands upon thousands of bikes, piled, stacked, leaning against one another, and simply thrown on the ground. Pink ones, blue ones, green ones, and red ones, all obscured by a thick layer of dust. I couldn't comprehend what I saw before me--how could so many bikes be in one place? Where on earth had they come from, and for how long had they all been here? Some had dried out vines on them, some were missing wheels, and some had no seats. The garage went on and on, with ramps and doors leading to more bikes. Tossed amongst the bikes was everything imaginable: clothes, shoes, bags, trash, boxes, books, and more. I shuffled through one small, yellow book to see that the first page had faded completely in the time it had been exposed to the lights of the garage. The rest of the pages revealed that it was some sort of propaganda book.
Over everything was heavy coating of brown soot. I simply could not fathom whether or not all of this was real; it was so strange. I felt as though I were in a dream. Between the impossibly endless bikes, maze-like, multi-level garage, eerie accordion music, and distant, bodiless voices, I felt as though I were in a completely different realm. Just as Alice found Wonderland, Chihiro found the Tea House, and Darby O'Gill found the realm of the Little People, I felt as though I had found my own parallel universe. It seemed to me that reflected in all of these bikes was the endless expanse of time. At some point in history, each bike had an owner. At another point in history, the owner had left the bike to rust and rot amongst the chambers of forgotten ages. Here I was, browsing through this gallery of time, being watched by the tragic, unloved creatures strewn from floor to ceiling.
I found the kung fu lesson, in the heart of this strange realm. I was the only one there, which added to the sense of isolation. As the instructor guided me through the exercises, I couldn't help but wonder about my own bike. The slick, silver "Wolf" brand (affectionately named "Wolfie") was my essential means of transportation. On this sleek and silent beast, I practically floated around campus, weaving effortlessly amongst the slow walkers. When my time here was up, what would become of it? Would it end up in this catacomb, rusting away while I leave this place and live my life elsewhere? Would it be here, covered in dust, for decades and for centuries?
I suppose it was a strange reminder of our ethereal mortality. We live as though we are the first, the only, and the last. We are ignorant to the countless others who have lived equally important lives before us, and will never know of the endless stretch who come after. All we have is relics of the past, decaying pieces of an era that we can never know.
As I packed up and wandered through the garage, I stopped and stood for a moment. This wasn't just a basement or a garage. It was a tomb for the past. A memorial to all things now gone. The accordion music and strange voices haunted me as I moved up the ramp, but as soon as the cold March air hit my cheeks and I stepped outside, the sounds stopped abruptly.
And there was Wolfie, shiny and new, ready to race through the blissful world of open air in the here and now.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
It Takes a Global Village to Raise a Child
I'm noticing a common trend in China: just when I start to feel like I'm adapted to living in Beijing, everything changes.
After two weeks of living in the Zhongguan Global Village apartment complex, I gathered up my things and moved into my home stay. This was nerve-wracking--what would my host family be like? What would their home be like? And, most importantly, would we get along? I prayed that I wasn't going to be one of the horror stories we had heard about, which involved terrible living conditions, excessive invasions of privacy, and, in one case, a host parent going through the trash of a student. I knew one thing: however unstable this experience would be, I wasn't going to be one of the students moving back to Global Village.
I met my host mom on a sunny sunday outside of the Global Village. She's a friendly, middle-aged woman who works in accounting at the university. She doesn't own a car, so we took a cab to her apartment just outside the world-famous West Gate of Beida--I feel like I'm walking into Mulan every time I go through it.
The apartment is tiny! It is essentially three rooms, with the master bedroom/living room to the left, the hallway-balcony-gone-kitchen in the middle, and my room to the right. I was a little worried about the bathroom because the shower is quite literally a hose above the sink, which drains into a smelly hole in the ground, but so far it's been okay! Despite it's size, it is a very charming place to live. I often feel a bit more cheerful when the sun streams across the lightly-colored wood.
I like my room a lot. It's fairly spacious, and the bed is very comfortable--a welcome change from the very solid bed at Global Village. The room belongs to my host mom's daughter, who is a college student in Seattle. In many ways I feel like I'm living her life--her room is adorned with pink curtains and stuffed animals that surround me as I work, and there's a poster of Alan Iverson above the bed. A framed butterfly hangs on the wall, and my keys are anchored with a hello kitty figurine.
Ironically, one of the first things I noticed was a leprechaun pen. Now, owning about five of them, I knew immediately from where this pen had come--which was from my very own University of Notre Dame. I was astounded, but when I asked my host mom, she told me one of her previous students, Mariel, had lived there, along with several other ND students throughout recent years. I couldn't believe it! Mariel and I had been in the same Chinese class way back when, and last year, when she was abroad, she would send back emails detailing her adventures, and I specifically remember reading the email in which she raved over her host family and wishing I could have one as good. It's strange, but that little pen and "play like a champion today" magnet made me feel like being hugged--as if I had a little slice of ND here comforting me in China. It lessened the stress of moving into a new place a lot, and I'm grateful to the domers who lived here before me.
My mom and I get along really well--we often spend hours talking about everything and anything. She speaks no English, so she often has to help me as I stutter along in Chinese. Sometimes, though, I wonder why she hosts students. Is it because she genuinely likes welcoming foreigners into her home? Is it because of the money she gets for hosting us? Or is it because she's lonely?
We eat lunch together twice a week. She cooks the most amazing food I've had in China--I honestly don't know how she does it. From noodles, to chicken, to tomato-egg omlettes, she can do it all in a matter of minutes.
For the first week, I assumed she was a divorcee or single mom. I didn't want to ask. That is, until I came home one night to see (and smell) her husband, smoking and watching television on the couch. I smiled as I met him, but passive aggressive rage was building in my mind--if there is one thing that is constantly offensive to other people, it's smoking. And he smokes. A lot. It's really kind of thrown a wrench into this situation--just as I was used to my host mom, my smokey-the-bear host dad comes along and stinks up the place. It's not that I hate people who smoke, but the smell is just unbearable. I need to keep my door shut when he's around, because as soon as the smell hits I can feel my sinuses swelling and congesting. Sometimes I open the window, but with the life-threatening pollution, it's not much of an improvement.
While my host mom and I have bonded over many conversations, my host dad is quiet, doesn't really make eye contact, and spends the majority of his time laying in bed and looking rather sickly. He's some sort of engineer, and will be gone for long stretches of time and around for others. I don't get it. I can feel myself withdrawing a bit to this new presence in the home, slowly inching back out as I talk with him more and more. I think he's genuinely friendly, but I just haven't had that moment of bonding with him yet.
Sometimes, I think of the girl who's life I now live, and wonder if she hates me for sleeping in her bed, using her keys, putting my clothes in her drawers, and sitting at her desk. I know if someone was at this moment putting his grimy hands all over my room, I'd hate him too. I wondered why her parents would do that to her--but Mary, a year-long student who had lived here previously--said something that changed this perception: "They do everything for their daughter. Every penny goes to her education and her well-being."
At that moment the world turned upside down. Everything these parents do, they do with their daughter in mind. The tiny apartment, the patchwork fixtures, the lack of a washing machine and car--all of it is to save money so she can study at an American university, gain experience, and live a good life. While they don't own a computer, their daughter owns a Macbook Pro and an IPhone 4S. My heart was touched by this--the amount of sacrifice they have endured is tremendous. I knew this was also my purpose--I was a gear in the motor of this plan--but I didn't feel as though that was a bad thing. My host mom has never made me feel like a means of gaining money--she's been there every night to open the door, to lock it after I leave, to turn the hot water on so I can take a shower, and even to tip-toe into my room now and then to present me with gross little candies that I eat when I run out of strawberries. Whenever I'm home she cooks for me, even though she is only required to twice a week. When I cut my finger on a shard of glass this morning, I found myself wishing she was home so I could ask her if she thought I should get stitches. Later that night when I finally did ask her, she told me not to wash it because it would take longer to heal. I smiled, telling her I wouldn't, even though her suggestion made absolutely no sense. But even something like that makes me grateful I have her around. I know we'll have our challenges as a family this semester, but I think this new global village is a good one.
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| Global Village |
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| Global Village |
After two weeks of living in the Zhongguan Global Village apartment complex, I gathered up my things and moved into my home stay. This was nerve-wracking--what would my host family be like? What would their home be like? And, most importantly, would we get along? I prayed that I wasn't going to be one of the horror stories we had heard about, which involved terrible living conditions, excessive invasions of privacy, and, in one case, a host parent going through the trash of a student. I knew one thing: however unstable this experience would be, I wasn't going to be one of the students moving back to Global Village.
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| My Host Parents' Room/Living Room/Dining Room |
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| Actually not as bad as it looks! |
The apartment is tiny! It is essentially three rooms, with the master bedroom/living room to the left, the hallway-balcony-gone-kitchen in the middle, and my room to the right. I was a little worried about the bathroom because the shower is quite literally a hose above the sink, which drains into a smelly hole in the ground, but so far it's been okay! Despite it's size, it is a very charming place to live. I often feel a bit more cheerful when the sun streams across the lightly-colored wood. |
| My room! |
I like my room a lot. It's fairly spacious, and the bed is very comfortable--a welcome change from the very solid bed at Global Village. The room belongs to my host mom's daughter, who is a college student in Seattle. In many ways I feel like I'm living her life--her room is adorned with pink curtains and stuffed animals that surround me as I work, and there's a poster of Alan Iverson above the bed. A framed butterfly hangs on the wall, and my keys are anchored with a hello kitty figurine.
Ironically, one of the first things I noticed was a leprechaun pen. Now, owning about five of them, I knew immediately from where this pen had come--which was from my very own University of Notre Dame. I was astounded, but when I asked my host mom, she told me one of her previous students, Mariel, had lived there, along with several other ND students throughout recent years. I couldn't believe it! Mariel and I had been in the same Chinese class way back when, and last year, when she was abroad, she would send back emails detailing her adventures, and I specifically remember reading the email in which she raved over her host family and wishing I could have one as good. It's strange, but that little pen and "play like a champion today" magnet made me feel like being hugged--as if I had a little slice of ND here comforting me in China. It lessened the stress of moving into a new place a lot, and I'm grateful to the domers who lived here before me.
My mom and I get along really well--we often spend hours talking about everything and anything. She speaks no English, so she often has to help me as I stutter along in Chinese. Sometimes, though, I wonder why she hosts students. Is it because she genuinely likes welcoming foreigners into her home? Is it because of the money she gets for hosting us? Or is it because she's lonely?
We eat lunch together twice a week. She cooks the most amazing food I've had in China--I honestly don't know how she does it. From noodles, to chicken, to tomato-egg omlettes, she can do it all in a matter of minutes.
For the first week, I assumed she was a divorcee or single mom. I didn't want to ask. That is, until I came home one night to see (and smell) her husband, smoking and watching television on the couch. I smiled as I met him, but passive aggressive rage was building in my mind--if there is one thing that is constantly offensive to other people, it's smoking. And he smokes. A lot. It's really kind of thrown a wrench into this situation--just as I was used to my host mom, my smokey-the-bear host dad comes along and stinks up the place. It's not that I hate people who smoke, but the smell is just unbearable. I need to keep my door shut when he's around, because as soon as the smell hits I can feel my sinuses swelling and congesting. Sometimes I open the window, but with the life-threatening pollution, it's not much of an improvement.
While my host mom and I have bonded over many conversations, my host dad is quiet, doesn't really make eye contact, and spends the majority of his time laying in bed and looking rather sickly. He's some sort of engineer, and will be gone for long stretches of time and around for others. I don't get it. I can feel myself withdrawing a bit to this new presence in the home, slowly inching back out as I talk with him more and more. I think he's genuinely friendly, but I just haven't had that moment of bonding with him yet.
Sometimes, I think of the girl who's life I now live, and wonder if she hates me for sleeping in her bed, using her keys, putting my clothes in her drawers, and sitting at her desk. I know if someone was at this moment putting his grimy hands all over my room, I'd hate him too. I wondered why her parents would do that to her--but Mary, a year-long student who had lived here previously--said something that changed this perception: "They do everything for their daughter. Every penny goes to her education and her well-being."
At that moment the world turned upside down. Everything these parents do, they do with their daughter in mind. The tiny apartment, the patchwork fixtures, the lack of a washing machine and car--all of it is to save money so she can study at an American university, gain experience, and live a good life. While they don't own a computer, their daughter owns a Macbook Pro and an IPhone 4S. My heart was touched by this--the amount of sacrifice they have endured is tremendous. I knew this was also my purpose--I was a gear in the motor of this plan--but I didn't feel as though that was a bad thing. My host mom has never made me feel like a means of gaining money--she's been there every night to open the door, to lock it after I leave, to turn the hot water on so I can take a shower, and even to tip-toe into my room now and then to present me with gross little candies that I eat when I run out of strawberries. Whenever I'm home she cooks for me, even though she is only required to twice a week. When I cut my finger on a shard of glass this morning, I found myself wishing she was home so I could ask her if she thought I should get stitches. Later that night when I finally did ask her, she told me not to wash it because it would take longer to heal. I smiled, telling her I wouldn't, even though her suggestion made absolutely no sense. But even something like that makes me grateful I have her around. I know we'll have our challenges as a family this semester, but I think this new global village is a good one.
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