China Finals

I am long overdue for a blog post.

Not only is the semester winding down, but I am closing the book on my time as an English teacher in China. The former offers plenty of fodder for laughter and frustration, but the latter has not yet provoked reflections that I could put clearly into words. That may not come until, as Papa Z. says, I am sitting on a windy Himalayan peak.

Fingers are crossed that our Tibet travel permits are approved. There have been new restrictions about group sizes, countries of origin, and modes of entry into the area. I've heard about a few friends being denied. Not to mention that foreigners are getting really bad press in China at the moment.

Hopefully cooler heads will prevail, and hopefully I will be in Tibet 6/8-6/20.

Yellow Mtn.

And while I know I will gain perspective on my experiences and time in China over the coming weeks (and months and years), I can definitely say that I have learned at least two things about myself over the past two years:

1) The more I learn about China, the less I understand; and
2) my greatest pet peeves are crowds and when eating mouths are unnecessarily noisy.

These pet peeves were on display during a recent weekend to Yellow Mountain. Heralded as one of the better tourist attractions in China, Yellow Mountain has unique rock formations and colorful cliff faces. As with all famous tourist attractions and popular mountains in China, Yellow Mountain was annoyingly crowded. After summiting, my friends and I had to wait in line just to see each vista on the peak circuit. While in line, I gave some stink-eyes to a couple of guys eating cake and shrink-wrapped tofu. Their mouths snapped and slurped so much, my personal space felt invaded. Also, food was falling all over this guy's mouth and clinging to his sweaty face to form a handlebar mustache made of cake. Eventually, I couldn't suppress the shivers running down my back; the pain and exhaustion after climbing miles of stairs, the claustrophobia-inducing line, and these guys' mouths pushed me too far: "你嘴很吵."

Thai/Tie Pun II: El(i)es and Wats' Wat

After a two month hiatus from blogging, I am returning with recollections--recollections of the two month hiatus from blogging. I do not feel like my vacation was a "whirlwind" or that it "flew by." Actually, eight weeks of vacation feels exactly like eight weeks of vacation when entire weeks are defined by a specific activity, reunions, and locations. This is the fourth and final entry of journal "highlights"--here is the first entry, the second entry, and the third entry (which was the first half of my time in Thailand). These are excerpts from what I wrote while I was in or around Chiang Mai and Cambodia. Hereafter, I promise my blog's contents will shift from personal journal regurgitation.

Eyes of the ele

***

01/28

I slept terribly last night; I woke repeatedly to mosquitoes biting my face. At least they weren't bed bugs.

Our cubby in our train car sleeps four passengers. Coincidentally, I bump into a fellow alum from my childhood summer camp--he sleeps two-cubbies-down.

01/29

"Good morneen," the car manager calls as she walks the aisle. "Brekfest fifteen minoots."

I slide open my lower berth's curtains. The air-con reasserts its unforgettable presence without the poor shield that was the curtain; I've been freezing for the nearly nine hours of Benadryl-clouded sleep. At some point in the night, I wake to put on my flannel; the cotton blanket does not match the pillow in comfort-level. 

While eating my rice soup with chicken, I join our cubby's roommates (a body-odor-plagued French couple) in watching the hills covered in tropical forest--not quite rainforest. We rumble past a pineapple orchard, and I wonder if I'm not stationary while everything crashes past.

Getting Out of China (Shanghai, Beijing, Hangzhou)

After a two month hiatus from blogging, I am returning with recollections--recollections of the two month hiatus from blogging. I do not feel like my vacation was a "whirlwind" or that it "flew by." Actually, eight weeks of vacation feels exactly like eight weeks of vacation when entire weeks are defined by a specific activity, reunions, and locations. This first entry of journal "highlights" will be brief; these are excerpts from what I wrote between my last day of school (12/22) and my first day in Hawaii (01/06). More soon, friends and family!

Cold Wall

Winter Movement(s)

黄晶晶 (Huang Jingjing): "Elie, you are American. Yes?"
阿里 (Ali, me): "Yes."
黄晶晶: "Maybe next term you can teach an American Literature course."
阿里: "That would be fantastic!"

*2 weeks later*

黄晶晶: "Maybe it is better if one of our teachers teaches the American Literature course and you teach English Literature instead."
阿里: "Define 'better'..."

***

"Falletin Me Be Mice Elf"

Autumn is a difficult time for me to be away from the United States, from family, and from friends.

I often miss how autumn brings a transition of colors, flavors, and smells. Even though 南京 (Nanjing) experiences cooling temperatures more than 深圳 (Shenzhen), the leaves on most trees do not go through red, orange, or bright yellow phases. They immediately become brown with sickly yellow edges. They do, however, retain the gratifying crunch when stepped-on. Menus do not change, though, to favor pumpkins, apples, and spices like cinnamon, nutmeg, or clove. Pumpkins are popular year-round, and cider is completely absent in China. And I truly miss how the thick air of summer thins and reveals that lush smell of decomposition in the autumn. (Most of China has either the smell of pollution or public defecation.)

And the holidays (from October 14th through Jewish High Holidays, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and into "holiday season") trigger an automatic craving for contact with friends and family. Regardless of my criticisms of celebrating historical imperialism or commercial materialism, I, like most Americans, feel a twinge of longing for those connections we hold dearest.

Checking-In

Tai qi in the campus woods

As much as I hoped my hiatus would inspire creative thought, I have found the break from blogging (and all writing) to be mostly unproductive. I enjoyed challenging myself to reorient my approach to reflection, expression, and observation; but I require the cathartic comfort of organizing my thoughts in writing.

I think part of my frustrations with my writing lay in my undeniably narcissistic tones--I aspire for diminished ego, though. And the remainder of my frustrations lay in the cliche duality of desiring praise and recognition while fending off the pressure of expectations--according to Blogger, I have followers all over the western hemisphere and in Kazakhstan.

Regardless, I have returned with a report (or review) of first quarter academia highlights.

Debut

I thought that those who care should know that I made my Chinese television debut this past Friday. For the Nanjing government's Mid-Autumn Moon Festival..."gala," I guess you could call it...The Nanjing government demanded my presence alongside the Brit who lives in my building--as well as alongside a Congolese student studying at Nanjing University. We sang "Purple Mountain," a song written by a Canadian and in honor of the Nanjing people's stand against the Japanese. The song was in English, and it had a bit of a Memphis feel to it.

Playing for the drummers in our shared dressing room

As my colleagues were instructed to lip synch, I was instructed to pretend to play guitar. All this Ashlee Simpson-ing is so that there are no mistakes. Harmony must be maintained--in regards to musical performance and quality of entertainment. The only entertainers who weren't faking during the evenings proceedings were the scantily clad Chinese dancers (who wore bunny ears and tails but zebra stockings) and the absurdly talented children playing in a traditional Chinese drumline--one kid totally wailed in a solo...would have kicked Nick Cannon's ass.

Anyways, I spent much of the day drinking free kumquat-and-lemon juice (weirdly good) and joking around on guitar with the children who played traditional Chinese drums--whenever, of course, they were allowed a break from their homework.

The show ended with cannons shooting golden glitter over all of us, with us smiling and waving to a packed auditorium and to the cameras telecasting us live to the city, with some handshaking with who I assume to be the significant governmental officials of the city, with our contacts gifting us a couple bottles of wine, and with the television offices rewarding us a three-hour salary for about four minutes of work.

This was easily one of the silliest things I have been a part of since coming to China, but I am in no way surprised. It feels like a rite of passage as a waiguoren (foreigner). Out of the evening, I was approached to help a teaching center as an English teacher and foreign model. Obviously, I am not sure really how this will pan out.

After scouring the Internet, I cannot find video (yet). I will keep searching, but I hope that these pictures will whet thine pallets for more on my rising stardom in China:

2nd pic--check that professional lip bite

And these women were one of my favorite acts--they came on about 15 minutes before us (same routine, though this footage is from some other absurd proceeding).

Confession

I need not tell you, my loyal and kind readers, that I have been posting with increasing infrequency. I have chalked-this-up to a busy schedule, distraction, and other excuses. While those may have been true (and may still be), I have realized in the past months that I have grown weary of my writing.

China Skill #8: Squatting like a champion

I am displeased with the writing I do both privately and publicly. For the most part, I am sick of how self-oriented all of my writing is. I would prefer to write about others, about culture, about travel, about food, about philosophical and moral quandaries, about a transnational livelihood, and about so many other topics. But I find that so many of my sentences include "me" or "my" if they don't start with "I."

Hell, that paragraph has those words nine times in just four sentences.

Furthermore, I am a little sick of my writing style. I feel like I once wrote with lighter tones, more developed thoughts, and a general indication of potential. Somehow, I feel I have failed to maintain that standard of writing for myself.

So, I am taking a break from my typical blog for a while. I'm also taking a break from my journal. This should present a strange conflict between searching for a familiar catharsis and searching for a more satisfying form of expression, between wanting to record my experiences and striving for a higher quality of thought. I am weighing a few options: making a mural on one of my far-too-white apartment walls, buying a microphone and a loop pedal to make beat-box beats with which I can mess around, pursuing calligraphy in a serious way, etc.

As a teaser, I am working on a different blog project that will undoubtedly be less Elie-oriented and more geared towards conversational pieces. I am not sure when it will be ready to go public, but I assure you that you (whoever you are) will know when it happens.

I do hope to continue updating and posting on "Traveling Onion" in a different manner, though. As I begin to write more developed short stories (anecdotal and fictional) in my journal, I will transcribe them here for your [dis]approval.

Cheeky knocker

This may all be a way of motivating myself to pursue additional forms of expression. And I may end-up continuing this blog as is. I am not really sure. I just feel as though I need a change.

Until then, my new job is wonderful thus far. The university sophomores and freshmen willingly enrolled in my class and are enthusiastic to have the opportunity to study with a native speaker. I will be leading a weekly film discussion group, a drama group, and a mini-workshop on journalism in English. It's too hot to be wearing bow ties, but I'm still wearing them. I found a great expat bar in Nanjing that is probably one of the top five bars to which I have ever been. And I may have two months of paid vacation for the Chinese New Year (12/23-02/20). I am currently planning a National Day week of Jiangsu travel: hosting friends in Nanjing, seeing the Venice of China in Suzhou, visiting West Lake (inspiration for a large portion of classic Chinese literature and painting) in Hangzhou, and revisiting one of my favorite cities in Shanghai.

Music, Books, Movies, T.V.: "Have Love Will Travel" by The Sonics, "Punching in a Dream" by The Naked and Famous, "Little Green Bag" by The George Baker Selection, "I Gotcha" by Joe Tex, " Watcha Clan, Kid Koala, "One Sunday Morning" by Wilco, "Brains and Eggs" by One Ring Zero, Thunder from the East by Kristof and WuDunn, Howl's Moving Castle by Jones, Entourage, True Blood, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Game of Thrones.

While I was out...

I suppose I should have expected that I would not have been able to live-up to my expectations to have posted at least one entry while on my whirlwind three-and-a-half week tour of the United States. Still, I am disappointed in myself for not writing just once. I barely even wrote in my personal journal. And I find that when I procrastinate [or avoid prioritizing] my written reflections, I tend to forget the pithy phrasings and descriptive language to which I sometimes dedicate hours of internal editing.

Alas! I have forgotten some of the whimsical and some of the refined observations on America and my American interactions that all seemed strangely familiar.

Flatirons, CO

Sights and Sounds of Tai ji

After two weeks of study (thirty hours per week), I have learned the base eighteen movements of Chen-style tai ji. N.B. I am far from mastering these movements.

I am still amazed at how exhausting the subtle movements of shifting one's hips and rotating ones arms can be. The martial art form does not require any particular level of athleticism, but daily practice definitely guarantees some weight-loss (through sweat) and increased upper leg strength. Each movement requires only a slight knee-bend, but each movement requires firm rooting in the ground. Surprisingly, this rooting derives in comfortably sitting into one's hips and letting the hips begin each movement. At first, pronating and suppinating through hip movements seems counter-intuitive; eventually, one learns how to bend their elbows using their hips. At least, one supposedly learns this. As one of my fellow students pointed-out (in one of the more appropriate but obscure references I have ever heard), learning tai ji makes one feel like their doing the awkward jolts and jitters from Jamie Lee Curtis's strip tease in True Lies (see below for more details).

Waterbending (see below for details)

That's a video of my master （师傅, shifu) singing my favorite Chinese country song; the lyrics are something to the effect of: "Singing a song,/ I am on this side,/ the river is on that side..." It is a particularly popular song in Yangshuo, where there is an overdone light show involving hundreds of actors on boats and featuring the song as part of a love story between a village girl and a fisherman.

That video is of me doing the base eighteen movements with my master. I am sure you will see as many flaws in my form and postures as I do. Here is a clip of Jamie Lee's dance (the clip is only relevant to the point between 3:08 and 3:17, outside of that I cannot "speak" to the remainder of the clip): compare as you see fit. And after that, some vintage waterbending from one of my favorite TV shows ever.

The Price of Serenity

I have already provided evidence that Yangshuo is beautiful through my testimonies and my photography. And I have alluded to the quietness of the countryside, the slowed pace of practicing tai ji five-hours-a-day, and the pensive silence of staying in a village outside the city limits. Obviously, I am thoroughly enjoying my time in Guangxi's gem.

Serendipitously lotus blossom season

But, I am a cynical traveler (as referenced in my last post and my general tone throughout my posts). So here are a few opinions, observations, and reflections that could either be read as informed criticism of Yangshuo or as a whiny lack of appreciation.

"Real"...Generally speaking.

There are several excerpts from Lonely Planet's guide to China that reference "the real China." For instance, there is a quote in the section on Yangshuo that mentions how the mountain-town-cum-tourist-mecca is a far-stretch from "the real China." Being a cynical traveler, I heeded these words and mentally prepared for lots of schmaltzy tourist swag and fake touts; but being a cynical traveler, I also am skeptical of what Lonely Planet means by "the real China." (For more on cynicism, I recommend viewing 06/09/2011's episode of South Park: "Your Getting Old.")

One of my fellow tai ji students named Simon is seriously considering staying in China for a long period of time now that his holiday has been such a personal success. He recently passed his TEFL exam and is job hunting in Yangshuo. He also asked me whether I though that Yangshuo was an example of "the real China."

Real Chinese cow cooling off

Yin and Yang(shuo)

View from my second story porch swing

After a brief lay-over in Hong Kong (with the purpose of procuring a tourist visa for the summer), I took a sleeper bus to Yángshuò(阳朔). Known for it's karst mountains, 阳朔 is as beautiful and invigorating as stories make-it-out to be. The tropical spring weather of South China is on the brink of bursting into unbearable summer heat, but I still get afternoon rains that cool the air and make for peaceful sunsets over either of the two rivers that come through the county. While 阳朔 town has become quite the tourists' mecca over the past few years (and thus has plenty of bars, cafes, and restaurants to cater to Westerners), I am stationed in a valley about four kilometers from the town. I am studying tai ji at Long Tou Shan ("Dragon's Head Mountain") School in a small village. It is generally very quiet with minimal traffic, the occassional tourist cyclist, and a lot of frogs croaking at dusk.

Pilipin

Everybody! Pose like a Chinese schoolgirl!

This post is a continuation of the last--my recent series of lazy rehashing of my journal.

01/27:

My thoughts (especially those I deem worth writing) have slowed. Is this a sign of relaxation? A shift in mindset due to current state and prospective jobs? Or an indication of having processed my anxieties to a point of acceptance?
*
I pass-out to power ballads blasting on a bus between Clark and Manila. When I wake, it's to a dingy city covered in filth, billboards, box buildings, and few green things. During our brief walk to get bi-bim-bop, our senses are assaulted by honking cars, neon, whispering drug dealers, and self-advertising prostitutes.
*

01/28:

Street vendors and hustlers walk the aisles of our bus as we slowly drift through Manila traffic with the coach door open.

Children wearing only underwear sit on our fast-craft pontoon and beg while the sun beats on their tanned skin.
*
Thin beaches. Coves with bangkas. Perfect sunsets. Drunken admissions and mosquito net riggings. 

Bo-oh-rneo: The Right Stuff

Mes amis! I have returned to technological society from another peaceful foray into off-the-grid living. Much has shifted in my mindset since I wrote my last post, and I have returned from five weeks of vacation (Chinese New Year: 新年快乐) with a relaxed and optimistic mindset.

As per my usual laziness and my routine risk of exploding with thought-peristalsis upon returning from vacations, I will be composing this post and the next (about the Philippines) mostly from excerpts from my [new, leather-bound] journal--thanks Mom and Papa. Prior to quoting myself (i.e. "tooting my own horn"), here is an adjusted itinerary from my original plan:

01/07-09: Kuala Lumpur
01/09-13: Kuching and Batang Lemanak (Sarawak, Borneo)
01/13-16: Bintulu and Similajau National Park (Sarawak, Borneo)
01/16-18: Niah National Park (Sarawak, Borneo)
01/18-20: Miri, Kota Kinabalu (Sarawak and Sabah, Borneo)
01/20- 23: Pulau Mabul (Sabah, Borneo)
01/23-26: Semporna, Kota Kinabalu (Sabah, Borneo)
01/26-27: Manila (Philippines)
01/27-01/31: Sabang, Roxas (Philippines)
01/31-02/05: Borocay (Philippines)
02/05-07: Roxas--Capiz (Philippines)
02/07-12: Masbate, Donsol, Legazpi, Manila (Philippines)

I read eight books and saw way too many low-grade movies during that time. Here are some more thoughts.

01/07:

With my head in my hand, I still don't feel the relief of vacation. Something inside me balks as though I would wake-up tomorrow to be back at the start of today--like a Groundhog Day loop of surreal zeal and distanced hesitation.
*
I'm starting this year, this trip, and this journal as an exhausted version of myself. I'm tired of planning this holiday...of the isolation and alienation I experience at school...of planning my "next step" with only one application submitted for next year...of social stress. The vibrations from vehicular motion lure me into slumber

Proper Refractions

H and City God Temple in Shanghai

Having my sister visit was delightful. Before she even left, I started missing her.

Prior to her visit, I was aware that her visit would be a measuring-stick by which I could assess how much I had learned in China and by which I could understand how much I had personally changed in the past five months. This being her first time in China, she was like a babe in the woods--I, the guiding hand with a torch that often flickered yet never totally extinguished.

I knew she would be such a measuring-stick because she is a constant in my life and because she knows the basic elements and incidents that have contributed to my identity: She could offer insight and observations based on her own knowledge (and her representation of) my essential common denominator that is my identity.

Though I was aware that her visit would allow for some personal analysis, I was not ready for how intense my self-reflection would be--"the difference between knowing and feeling" being one of our ongoing conversations. As I watched H face certain endemically China-challenges I have long since taken for granted, I slowly awoke to all the coping and self-protecting mental mechanisms I have established over the past months.

China Study: Case File SZ018 ("Students and Discipline")

This post is to be read as a continuation of my last post.
 ***
Each of my twelve different classes has 50 students. I teach only three of the six grades at my school. I am teaching at only one of at least five primary schools (1st-6th grade) in my village of Yantian district. There are several other villages in the district, and there are several districts in the city. The point? There are lots of kids in China.

Of course, this means that funding beneficial education for all those students can be a bit of a headache. One way that China helps this economic quandary is to not make high school mandatory. High schools recruit students, and every prospective high school student needs to pass an absurd amount of tests to have their applications considered. This is high school. Not university.

Ubiquitous Chinese Picture Pose

The sad side of this solution is that the majority of Chinese children are essentially channeled straight into factories. There is not much they can do as one fish swimming in a school headed straight for the net. In many ways, the Chinese economy (and society) depends on this channeling of humanity. A good friend acknowledged how easily the tragedy of one doomed life (inevitably headed to an impoverished life of labor and pain) can be lost in the grand scope of the entire Chinese population.

Especially in regards to humanitarian pursuits (e.g. becoming a teacher), Western thinking precludes loosing sight of of an individual's tragedy. And so I cannot lose sight of how this tragedy reiterates itself hundreds of times in my students.

There are many comparable circumstances around the globe. I spent much time at The University of Michigan learning about and advocating against the prison industrial complex that leeches out many forgotten and derelict youth--a brief plug for a friend and esteemed professor's book.

Some may argue that these youth (American or Chinese) are just lucky to get any education as compared with the millions deprived as much around the world. To me, this justification is cruel, dismissive, and offensively illogical. Apples and oranges.

The Loss of a Great Friend

I do not know if I believe in soul-mates.

I do know that I had found a kindred spirit, a best friend, and a trusted companion. It is so rare to find this--especially in an inanimate object.

Not two-weeks-ago, I realized that my blue zip-up hoodie had gone missing. Only yesterday, I gave-up hope of finding it.

It is with great sadness that I issue this eulogizing blog post. Though I only knew that hoodie for four years (four damn good years), I was familiar with each frayed edge and the origins of each stain. After just four years, I would grossly exagerate that I wore "The Blue Hoodie" for at least 365 days during that time, I would more accurately estimate that I wore "The Blue Hoodie" for at least 100 days (time worn, not days donned and then removed) during that time, and I would definitely know that I could count the times I washed "The Blue Hoodie" on my fingers.

I saw it morph from accessory to pajamas to all-purpose-utility-article. It saw me graduate university. We saw at least 23 countries and 19 states together.

Many came to know me and "The Blue Hoodie" as extensions of one-another. I have heard from several close friends (people, not inanimate objects) that when they thought of me, they thought of me wearing torn jeans, a solid-colored shirt, and "The Blue Hoodie."

So, I will not go on much longer. The sadness of the loss weighs heavily. The following is a montage of moments "The Blue Hoodie" and I shared over the past four years--from a rare snowy day in Jerusalem to its mysterious disappearance in Shenzhen and all that lay between. Cue "Dust in The Wind." You're my boy Blue!

Day 1: A Fox sweatshirt and an Onion fall in love while it snows in Jerusalem

Overwhelmed in Camden Market of London

Shick-shick-Shenma? (Whick-whick-What?)

I love communication. It's one of my passions. So, learning Chinese is an absolute blast for me. Here I am gaining the knowledge of how to communicate with 1/5th of the world. More, probably. With my Spanish abilities (and my barely remembered Hebrew skills?), I may soon be able to have a casual conversation (if not a more intense one) with half (if not more) of the world. I am as happy as a little girl!

Speaking in Chinese is difficult. I am not the first to say as much, but I will elaborate on the difficulties I perceive. N.B. I have observed Chinese people even have issues communicating with one another.

Take a look at my life, I'm a lot like you were.

Caught-up in "Maybe's"

Maybe I feel lighter.

In lieu of the recent slew of necessary questioning and searching I have conducted, I have spent some [also necessary] time contemplating the Chinese "maybe." Anyone who has held a conversation with a non-Native-English-speaking-Chinese-person knows that their individual uses of the word "maybe" are confounding, seemingly incorrect, and easily mocked. Here are some examples:

Me: There is no-one supervising that classroom and a boy just bit another boy.
Chinese Colleague: Yes. Maybe they are disobedient.

***

Chinese Colleague: Maybe you should come to the flag ceremony at 6 a.m.

***

Chinese Colleague: Maybe the school van will be there at 4:30 p.m. to retrieve you and your friends.
Me: Wait. But they are supposed to be.
Chinese Colleague: Yes. Maybe they will be.
Me: But they are contractually obligated to be there.
Chinese Colleague: Maybe they are obligated by contract. Yes.
Me: But...Um...Maybe.

***