Decisions..Decisions
In his recent memoir, former president George W. Bush, offers us up an enticing and honest portrayal of his time as Commander in Chief.
Never short on gaffes, W. has been busy whistle-stopping this book to the likes of Oprah and NBC's Matt Lauer. In his interview with the latter, Bush offered a interesting tidbit to his view of the Iraq invasion. You know, that little war that has plundered the U.S. Treasury, killed thousands of American and Iraqi lives (not to mention the other nations involved in the "conflict"), derailed (at least in part) the global economy, spun Iraq into a civil war, and led to the uprising of such Jim Jonesish personalities like Cindy Sheehan (ugh!). (Okay, that last part was meant to be a joke to centralize this blog posting a bit more).
None the less, in his own words, Bush seems unwilling to admit that his decision to invade Iraq was, in fact, a mistake.(Note: Could you ever imagine being like, "So, uh, this one time (in mocking 15 year old Glee like voice), I ordered our military to attack a nation that has never attacked us without provocation, derailed their government, executed their Head of State, and lied to the American public about a WMD program that never actually existed. Oops, my bad!"
In the Lauer interview, Bush said, "I mean, apologizing would basically say the decision was a wrong decision. And I don't believe it was the wrong decision."
Okay, the guy wants to stick by his decisions. But C'MON!
The action was wrong George. However, your comment, like many of yours in the past, is just another example of your complete disconnect with the media and your reactionary, "stay-the-course" mentality that drove the car into the ditch.
Why not just admit to what we have since learned? That the invasion of Iraq was a failure. That does not mean that our troops died or have served in vain. On the contrary, they have and continue to fight valiantly. I just would have rather seen them providing this service in let's say, the Sudan, or...hmmm... buffing up the support in New Orleans during Katrina and the rebuilding effort.
No, this isn't about our troops. It's not even about the war. It's about a president that still doesn't get it. That the "cowboy" image that he fought so valiantly to protect, is indeed going to be his lasting legacy, and that's not necessarily a good thing. A man, blinded by advice he should have never taken (Rumsfeld and Cheney) and by a media that he could never master.
Wouldn't it have just been nice, if not an apology, to hear the real reason for the invasion. That it would create a cash cow. A war would stimulate contracting opportunities for corporations like Halliburton. Provide a "Democratic" stronghold in the Middle East (forget about Israel). Not to mention what many believe was the true reason, to eventually go to war with the oil-rich Iran. Wouldn't that truth have proved to be more accepting to the American public now, after billions of dollars and thousands of lives lost?
Who knows? Whatever the reasons for his "stick-by-your-guns" mentality, Bush did little to change his image in the eyes of the historians that will be writing about him, and crafting his story.
For all his decisions, one thing remains certain. You can always count on President Bush for a laugh.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Paradigm Shift
“The Captain heard it and took action, only when he realized he didn’t have any choice.”
In rereading over my injustice essay, I was quick to locate a similarity between the attitude, actions and motives I spoke of, and the work of Stephen R. Covey in his article on Co-production.
In this article, the foundation of coproduction, or the relationship between the non-market world and the market economy as it was described, is applicable not just to stewards of public policy and law, but also to the individual, cast of characters and stakeholders, hoping to create paradigm shifts on the horizon.
So, the question I posed was, “What part of this potential paradigm shift am I a part of?”
The answer, in my opinion, was that I represent the terra firma. A member of civil society, who through his own actions, and more importantly, the telling of that story, can help to produce a paradigm shift.
You could say this is just a more elaborate way of telling someone that I am creating a butterfly effect. However, paradigm shifts do not come without struggle, which eventually fall on the shoulders of individuals and the choices they make. In this case, my choice was to either continue to live a life in which I was suffering in silence or embrace the true person that I am.
Imagine if that were the case for all human beings. Imagine that by individuals embracing that they were, gay, lesbian or transgendered, but also American, and entitled to pursue happiness the same as their fellow Americans, how their message would grow only brighter to the legislators, opponents and others on such serious debates as DADT, and federal recognition of Same-Sex marriage. Wouldn’t then, and only then, change be inevitable?
In respects to being part of that terra firma, I experienced not only a personal change in belief systems and advocacy, but I realized that opponents of my constitutional, legal and personal beliefs represented something of a lighthouse as well, although there were stark differences.
Like myself, they represent the non market economy, and thus we have competing interests. These individuals are unwilling to budge based on generations of, “family” values, public policy and law, informed through, at least to some extent, prejudice. It seems then, that to me, the lighthouse that shines the brightest would inevitably create the most impact.
So, it is without a doubt, that if our goal is to indeed change the way society thinks about the ways gays and lesbians are treated by the law, then we must induce a paradigm shift amongst those boats being beckoned to the harbor, and that starts with the individual.
The individual must be willing to change their own course against injustice. Often times, just admitting that injustice, prejudice, racism or oppression is occurring towards them is the first step. From there, the message grows louder, until, hopefully, the ships approaching have no choice, but to change course.
In rereading over my injustice essay, I was quick to locate a similarity between the attitude, actions and motives I spoke of, and the work of Stephen R. Covey in his article on Co-production.
In this article, the foundation of coproduction, or the relationship between the non-market world and the market economy as it was described, is applicable not just to stewards of public policy and law, but also to the individual, cast of characters and stakeholders, hoping to create paradigm shifts on the horizon.
So, the question I posed was, “What part of this potential paradigm shift am I a part of?”
The answer, in my opinion, was that I represent the terra firma. A member of civil society, who through his own actions, and more importantly, the telling of that story, can help to produce a paradigm shift.
You could say this is just a more elaborate way of telling someone that I am creating a butterfly effect. However, paradigm shifts do not come without struggle, which eventually fall on the shoulders of individuals and the choices they make. In this case, my choice was to either continue to live a life in which I was suffering in silence or embrace the true person that I am.
Imagine if that were the case for all human beings. Imagine that by individuals embracing that they were, gay, lesbian or transgendered, but also American, and entitled to pursue happiness the same as their fellow Americans, how their message would grow only brighter to the legislators, opponents and others on such serious debates as DADT, and federal recognition of Same-Sex marriage. Wouldn’t then, and only then, change be inevitable?
In respects to being part of that terra firma, I experienced not only a personal change in belief systems and advocacy, but I realized that opponents of my constitutional, legal and personal beliefs represented something of a lighthouse as well, although there were stark differences.
Like myself, they represent the non market economy, and thus we have competing interests. These individuals are unwilling to budge based on generations of, “family” values, public policy and law, informed through, at least to some extent, prejudice. It seems then, that to me, the lighthouse that shines the brightest would inevitably create the most impact.
So, it is without a doubt, that if our goal is to indeed change the way society thinks about the ways gays and lesbians are treated by the law, then we must induce a paradigm shift amongst those boats being beckoned to the harbor, and that starts with the individual.
The individual must be willing to change their own course against injustice. Often times, just admitting that injustice, prejudice, racism or oppression is occurring towards them is the first step. From there, the message grows louder, until, hopefully, the ships approaching have no choice, but to change course.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Deeper
Think of the words you use, when you speak of the cold air.
Its briskness and briefness that chills us to the bone.
Think of how it funnels past our ears, and blazes our cheeks.
Burning us and chapping our features. Reddening our lips.
And through its briefness, we never think about how that
wind started out high in the sky, over the tropics.
Warm and moist, above an opaque sea.
And churned into clouds and rains that were whipped across
farmlands, and deserts and cityscapes.
And ended up, staying, and cooling, and rushing past our faces.
So briefly, on a city street, in the darkness of winter.
And that is all we feel, the sting, and the sensation of the cold.
Without ever understanding, that there is more to its story.
Its briskness and briefness that chills us to the bone.
Think of how it funnels past our ears, and blazes our cheeks.
Burning us and chapping our features. Reddening our lips.
And through its briefness, we never think about how that
wind started out high in the sky, over the tropics.
Warm and moist, above an opaque sea.
And churned into clouds and rains that were whipped across
farmlands, and deserts and cityscapes.
And ended up, staying, and cooling, and rushing past our faces.
So briefly, on a city street, in the darkness of winter.
And that is all we feel, the sting, and the sensation of the cold.
Without ever understanding, that there is more to its story.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Annoyances of May 4, 2009
So, I am considering staying in China. Strike that. I want to stay in China. I mean, I really want to stay here. However, I am unsure how to facilitate this.
I have fallen in love with a lot of things about this country. From its seemingly endless wonders to its open spaces. It is hard to imagine a freer experience than this.
I find myself so scared of going back to the unknown. Not knowing what is in store. Readjusting. Getting use to the system of American life.
I have fallen in love with a lot of things about this country. From its seemingly endless wonders to its open spaces. It is hard to imagine a freer experience than this.
I find myself so scared of going back to the unknown. Not knowing what is in store. Readjusting. Getting use to the system of American life.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Ups and Downs
So what are the ups and downs of the last several weeks in China?
I am reminded that I need to write this because I have missed the last several weekly requirements that I should have submitted to my Field Director. Well, here it is...enjoy the rampage!
China is down when the weather is down. The weather in Changsha can be so abusively depressing that you could hang yourself from a ceiling fan in your classroom. EVERYTHING IS GRAY. The sky, the walls, the desks, the floors. Not to mention it can get bone-chillingly cold and numb and awful here. Just awful. But then....drumroll...
God can shine down on this place and whisk it away into a beautiful 78 degree day with birds, and a light breeze, and a refreshing afternoon shower or midnight thunderstorm, that reminds me of Florida.
Then, down again, when the KIDS JUST DON'T WANT TO FUCKING LEARN ANYTHING! They don't care, they never, never, never stop talking. Now, I repeat, repeat, repeat myself. I feel like I have almost busted my spleen from speaking so loudly in class...my tummy aches because I have to use such big attentive statements for the whole class to hear me....and then...
China is up again, because you can act like a complete fool in front of 60 students and IT WORKS! They love you. They love you and THEY LEARN. They want to learn. You've got them hooked...then....
China is down again because you can be intensely, INTENSELY LONELY...and then its...
Back up, because random neighbors will buy your dinner and take you fishing or feed you for free 3 nights in a row....and then
It is back down, because it takes a long time to get anywhere in this city....but then it's...
Back up, because you get there, and there is always something new....then it can
Pull you down because your liaison or school administration just doesn't really care about you, or the fact that you are 10,000 miles away from your home, or that you actually have a soul....then you can
Be uplifted at the fact that maybe you have made an impact and then you can be...
Disappointed at the fact that maybe no one cares when you leave...but you can
Always have faith that you have been blessed to walk here, in these crowded, dirty streets, and experience a cataclysm of emotion and feel...feel like you are free and living your life.
I am reminded that I need to write this because I have missed the last several weekly requirements that I should have submitted to my Field Director. Well, here it is...enjoy the rampage!
China is down when the weather is down. The weather in Changsha can be so abusively depressing that you could hang yourself from a ceiling fan in your classroom. EVERYTHING IS GRAY. The sky, the walls, the desks, the floors. Not to mention it can get bone-chillingly cold and numb and awful here. Just awful. But then....drumroll...
God can shine down on this place and whisk it away into a beautiful 78 degree day with birds, and a light breeze, and a refreshing afternoon shower or midnight thunderstorm, that reminds me of Florida.
Then, down again, when the KIDS JUST DON'T WANT TO FUCKING LEARN ANYTHING! They don't care, they never, never, never stop talking. Now, I repeat, repeat, repeat myself. I feel like I have almost busted my spleen from speaking so loudly in class...my tummy aches because I have to use such big attentive statements for the whole class to hear me....and then...
China is up again, because you can act like a complete fool in front of 60 students and IT WORKS! They love you. They love you and THEY LEARN. They want to learn. You've got them hooked...then....
China is down again because you can be intensely, INTENSELY LONELY...and then its...
Back up, because random neighbors will buy your dinner and take you fishing or feed you for free 3 nights in a row....and then
It is back down, because it takes a long time to get anywhere in this city....but then it's...
Back up, because you get there, and there is always something new....then it can
Pull you down because your liaison or school administration just doesn't really care about you, or the fact that you are 10,000 miles away from your home, or that you actually have a soul....then you can
Be uplifted at the fact that maybe you have made an impact and then you can be...
Disappointed at the fact that maybe no one cares when you leave...but you can
Always have faith that you have been blessed to walk here, in these crowded, dirty streets, and experience a cataclysm of emotion and feel...feel like you are free and living your life.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Up Next...
Who can blame the artist for trying to live his life in that dark room. Full of nothing but a love for his work. He paints and sculpts and scribbles his words on paper for the world to know.
The artist could be anyone. After all, we are all artists of our lives. We gauge and craft and slide our fingers over the molding clay of our destinies. We laugh and cry and what a beautiful thing either of them can be, because it means we are alive and feeling, really feeling life around us.
Our only choice is to stop or rise up and keep going. Not everyone's feelings are mutual and not everyone's playing fields are the same. I am reminded of the beauty of this when my friend and our are fishing on the outskirts of Changsha. He, in his mid-40's, 5'7", typical sculpt of a middle-aged Chinese man. Teeth slightly blackened, but skin smooth, unwrinkled and seemingly timeless. As if, he might look that way 20 years from now.
He sings a song (in English) about love and I am reminded that even though I do not know him well, he is singing to the world. Putting his heart on display. Making a choice to live in the moment, because that is all that exists. Expressing himself in a way that has been done for generations in China.
Much like the American slave, the Chinese sing, and sing, and sing. For people so timid in the English classroom, constantly speaking while looking down, covering their mouths for fear of retribution, shuttling pass you as if not to disturb. They break into song out of a way to express their innermost feelings. It is another language, scripted on the wind of the world, and most people do not notice.
To live in China, is to experience both the past and the present. The best and the worst. It is exceedingly calm and ultra-climactic. It is the future, the now and the then. It is everything you want for mankind, and everything you hope will never become status quo. It is children saying "hello...bye bye", wrapped in layers of wool clothing. It is grandmas throwing sewage on plants cultivated into impossible gardens that seem to be sprouting everywhere there is a patch of land. It is electric saws and cranes and dust, and men in business suits digging ditches at 3am in the morning. It is lonely and it is despair. It is bliss and it is happiness. It is a good life. It is a choice to see it that way.
As I come to the end of my first year as a WorldTeach volunteer, I feel a tremendous deal of remorse. I feel ashamed that I could not become a better speaker of the language or do more for the temporary community where I called home. However, I am reminded that I am just a part of something bigger. I am not the solution. I do not have the solution. I only have the education to share. The perspective. It is up to them to create, sustain and build. To take what I have offered, and make it their own.
I am only now getting my feet wet. I am only now beginning to see patterns in the language and understanding the differences in dialect. Only now do I see the impact that people have had on me. I begin to wonder, if it is okay to be uncertain about things, like my future. How everything now seems so foolish. How back home, people are clamoring for money and 401k's and stocks and homes that are exceedingly too big for their needs and SUV's that kill our planet and drugs that run our streets. How complacency has killed a middle class. How CEO's have robbed our banks and how a former Vice President raped our treasury.
How back home, my country is ran by graduates of Harvard and Yale Law and PR spinsters that sell presidents like Pepsi. How we have so many problems related to the American definition of "success" that our young people begin killing themselves before they even know it. How, back there, we have influenced a whole world with people like Paris Hilton, Britney Spears and Kobe Bryant, and that these are only role models in the sense that they are accomplished in their passions, but not because of their money, fame or bodies.
I am scared that China is becoming too capitalist, because I see it in the faces of the students. Dead tired at 5pm, after a long day of class...constant memorization....constant drilling. All I want is for them to feel some sense of release in my class. To let their minds think freely, to break the trend.
I see it in their parents. Who now, in their new houses and better lives, feel the stresses of the modern world. Paying mortgages, car payments, investing, etc.
Why are the poorest people of the world, always the happiest? I've seen it the Dominican Republic, Cambodia and now China. Maybe it is because they are free from the constraint of modernization. No, maybe it is because of community. That, I think is the answer.
We are a communal animal. We long for touch and response, for love and adoration. We strive to be accepted, and learn to accept others. We value tolerance and diversity and individual choice, but we cannot do this alone.
We all have a choice in this world. To live with purpose or live without. It has taken China to awaken this in me. It has allowed me to question and solve, to become confused and mesmerized. It has allowed me to grow. I think that is all that you can ever hope for. If you are constantly learning, something good will happen.
The artist could be anyone. After all, we are all artists of our lives. We gauge and craft and slide our fingers over the molding clay of our destinies. We laugh and cry and what a beautiful thing either of them can be, because it means we are alive and feeling, really feeling life around us.
Our only choice is to stop or rise up and keep going. Not everyone's feelings are mutual and not everyone's playing fields are the same. I am reminded of the beauty of this when my friend and our are fishing on the outskirts of Changsha. He, in his mid-40's, 5'7", typical sculpt of a middle-aged Chinese man. Teeth slightly blackened, but skin smooth, unwrinkled and seemingly timeless. As if, he might look that way 20 years from now.
He sings a song (in English) about love and I am reminded that even though I do not know him well, he is singing to the world. Putting his heart on display. Making a choice to live in the moment, because that is all that exists. Expressing himself in a way that has been done for generations in China.
Much like the American slave, the Chinese sing, and sing, and sing. For people so timid in the English classroom, constantly speaking while looking down, covering their mouths for fear of retribution, shuttling pass you as if not to disturb. They break into song out of a way to express their innermost feelings. It is another language, scripted on the wind of the world, and most people do not notice.
To live in China, is to experience both the past and the present. The best and the worst. It is exceedingly calm and ultra-climactic. It is the future, the now and the then. It is everything you want for mankind, and everything you hope will never become status quo. It is children saying "hello...bye bye", wrapped in layers of wool clothing. It is grandmas throwing sewage on plants cultivated into impossible gardens that seem to be sprouting everywhere there is a patch of land. It is electric saws and cranes and dust, and men in business suits digging ditches at 3am in the morning. It is lonely and it is despair. It is bliss and it is happiness. It is a good life. It is a choice to see it that way.
As I come to the end of my first year as a WorldTeach volunteer, I feel a tremendous deal of remorse. I feel ashamed that I could not become a better speaker of the language or do more for the temporary community where I called home. However, I am reminded that I am just a part of something bigger. I am not the solution. I do not have the solution. I only have the education to share. The perspective. It is up to them to create, sustain and build. To take what I have offered, and make it their own.
I am only now getting my feet wet. I am only now beginning to see patterns in the language and understanding the differences in dialect. Only now do I see the impact that people have had on me. I begin to wonder, if it is okay to be uncertain about things, like my future. How everything now seems so foolish. How back home, people are clamoring for money and 401k's and stocks and homes that are exceedingly too big for their needs and SUV's that kill our planet and drugs that run our streets. How complacency has killed a middle class. How CEO's have robbed our banks and how a former Vice President raped our treasury.
How back home, my country is ran by graduates of Harvard and Yale Law and PR spinsters that sell presidents like Pepsi. How we have so many problems related to the American definition of "success" that our young people begin killing themselves before they even know it. How, back there, we have influenced a whole world with people like Paris Hilton, Britney Spears and Kobe Bryant, and that these are only role models in the sense that they are accomplished in their passions, but not because of their money, fame or bodies.
I am scared that China is becoming too capitalist, because I see it in the faces of the students. Dead tired at 5pm, after a long day of class...constant memorization....constant drilling. All I want is for them to feel some sense of release in my class. To let their minds think freely, to break the trend.
I see it in their parents. Who now, in their new houses and better lives, feel the stresses of the modern world. Paying mortgages, car payments, investing, etc.
Why are the poorest people of the world, always the happiest? I've seen it the Dominican Republic, Cambodia and now China. Maybe it is because they are free from the constraint of modernization. No, maybe it is because of community. That, I think is the answer.
We are a communal animal. We long for touch and response, for love and adoration. We strive to be accepted, and learn to accept others. We value tolerance and diversity and individual choice, but we cannot do this alone.
We all have a choice in this world. To live with purpose or live without. It has taken China to awaken this in me. It has allowed me to question and solve, to become confused and mesmerized. It has allowed me to grow. I think that is all that you can ever hope for. If you are constantly learning, something good will happen.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
200 days and counting
7 months. I have been in China for 7 months.
Time is as confused as ever.
Some days it goes by so fast, that I am actually scared. Time has never went by so fast for me, for these reasons. That is, I am relating to time much differently here. It is very hard to explain and though the reader probably thinks I am losing my mind (which I very well could be), it is just a matter of living in a place that is so unpredictable. At least I hope that China is the reason that I cannot seem to understand how my days can fly by, yet come to a standstill, seemingly at the same time. Make sense?
When we are happy, the time flies. True. When we are unhappy, the time stagnates. True. Here, whether happy, sad or clueless, the time seems to move at a sputtering pace, slow, fast, slow, fast, stagnate, everything in between. How can it be that I can feel so lonely, but the time fly by? How can it be that I can be occupied and the time stagnate? Why is that?
This post makes no sense.
I have taken on a second career as an English tutor. I am currently tutoring two more students. One on Sunday afternoons, one on Friday nights. Yeah, I know, a big deal on a Friday night, right? I am trying to work on getting 8 more students to tutor. I want to stay occupied and need the money.
I havent been to the gym in weeks, though yesterday, I played basketball for about 2 hours. I am truly an amazing basketball player in China. I mean, amazing. I think I may go pro here. Haha. Where else could I dominate the low post at 5'11"?
The weather here matches the time and my feelings. It is cold, dark and occasionally, surprisingly pleasant. I went without showering 5 days last week because it is just too damn cold to move from my room (the only warm place in the apartment) to the bathroom and stand under a trickle of hot water for 10 minutes.
Time is as confused as ever.
Some days it goes by so fast, that I am actually scared. Time has never went by so fast for me, for these reasons. That is, I am relating to time much differently here. It is very hard to explain and though the reader probably thinks I am losing my mind (which I very well could be), it is just a matter of living in a place that is so unpredictable. At least I hope that China is the reason that I cannot seem to understand how my days can fly by, yet come to a standstill, seemingly at the same time. Make sense?
When we are happy, the time flies. True. When we are unhappy, the time stagnates. True. Here, whether happy, sad or clueless, the time seems to move at a sputtering pace, slow, fast, slow, fast, stagnate, everything in between. How can it be that I can feel so lonely, but the time fly by? How can it be that I can be occupied and the time stagnate? Why is that?
This post makes no sense.
I have taken on a second career as an English tutor. I am currently tutoring two more students. One on Sunday afternoons, one on Friday nights. Yeah, I know, a big deal on a Friday night, right? I am trying to work on getting 8 more students to tutor. I want to stay occupied and need the money.
I havent been to the gym in weeks, though yesterday, I played basketball for about 2 hours. I am truly an amazing basketball player in China. I mean, amazing. I think I may go pro here. Haha. Where else could I dominate the low post at 5'11"?
The weather here matches the time and my feelings. It is cold, dark and occasionally, surprisingly pleasant. I went without showering 5 days last week because it is just too damn cold to move from my room (the only warm place in the apartment) to the bathroom and stand under a trickle of hot water for 10 minutes.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
A Contortionist's Will
Junior class, #85, is a raucous crowd of 35 students. Half boys, half girls. Clad in Yali's red, white and blue, athletic-like school uniforms. This number varies between 27-35 students, depending on the day, which boys decide to skip class to play basketball, which students wander in 5-10 minutes late and which students leave the the other foreign teacher's oral English class to join mine.
The latter statement is by no means a way of saying that I am a good English teacher. Class #85, like all classes, has approximately 60-65 students, but since they are an "advanced" class (meaning the students in that class tested higher on their Chinese, Math and Science admissions tests...not English) they are afforded the opportunity to take oral English classes in a smaller setting.
The class is divided up. 35 students go to my section, 35 go to another foreign teacher's section, twice a week. Some days, students decide that they want to switch teachers. They have left the other foreign teacher's class because she is, in their words, "too mean", "gets too angry" or "is ugly". I noticed this population spurt one day when my class had a several unfamiliar faces in it.
Adjective-diversity aside, with the lack of oversight and a communication barrier, there is really no way of preventing this floundering in and out of the classroom. Threats of telling their head teacher only work so much. Sure, you can give them a bad grade, but since grades are basically meaningless (everything revolves around the tests they take after the end of the Junior 3 and Senior 3 years) that does little good. I am not even sure if the students, though it has been explained to them numerous times, understand the difference between and "A" and an "F", except that one is "hao" (good) and one is "bu hao" (not good).
This class exemplifies everything that is wrong with the Chinese education system. While that blatant charge is very subjective, I can tell you that there are some students that can speak better English, but because their test scores in Math, Chinese and Science were lower than their classmates on their admissions test, they do not go to the advanced class. They stay in their classes for three years, until the next admissions test, at which point, if they test well enough, they can continue at Yali. Otherwise, it is back to the school shopping block. Are you confused yet?
Back to class #85. Who could suspect that with names such as "Freeze", "Mirage", "God", "Answer", and "Fred-Almighty", there would be any sort of discipline problems with these students? The fact is, Chinese students see oral English classes as a time to goof off. Who can blame them? With their schedule, I would want to clown around with my friends too.
Last Thursday though, freshly annointed into a new semester of teaching, Class #85 had me sulking in anger. With chairs arranged in a "speed dating" style, to encourage conversing for an activity I had planned, the students immediately went to work in dismantling the set-up to group the chairs together with their friends. Big deal, right? Imagine, if this happened 7 times in one week. In America, most students would realize that, "oh, there is a pattern to this set-up, we probably should not rearrange the chairs." Not here.
A group of 14 year-old girls, habitually late, saunter in with a West Beverly High attitude and fake Adidas and Nike bags slung over their shoulders (on another note: Trademark infringement is the lay of the land in China, which is great if you like a good, cheap knock-off, but awful if you actually care about having your intellectual property protected). The girls gab and laugh, completely unaware to the feelings of the teacher at the front of the class, eyes closed and breathing deeply and just waiting for what could be minutes for the vocal level to die down. This happens in every class. 18 times a week. Numerous times over the 45 minute stretch of each.
The common-sense standards of Chinese people are light-years away (not in an evolutionary-advanced, "I am an arrogant American" sort of way), but in a way that says their concept of the matter is just different. Different rules apply here. Coupled with the spacial relationships that the Chinese have with their environment, it can be a recipe for high blood pressure for any teacher, any public bus passenger and any escalator rider.
Which brings me to the title of this essay. Contortionist's will. It pays to be flexible in China. Buses run late, early, sometimes not at all and always at the whim of the driver. A strange contradiction when they could be fresh off the assembly line with heating, AC and flat screen tvs.
Schedules change, with great notice, little notice or no notice. Usually I get word through the form of a text from my liaison. More often, through my own investigating with the students. Founding out when finals, holidays, summer vacation begins, is like trying to predict an earthquake. Ball-parked, is the best you can hope for. My Chinese colleagues, do not flinch at this. I still, STILL have trouble not believing that the school cannot know when the last day of classes will be. I hate that I have that feeling.
The trouble my students cause me in class has lead me to drop expletives and slam down books. I've walked out, kicked students out, made them do push-ups and lost my temper. I get better at handling it each day. It pays to laugh, it pays to not take it seriously, it pays to keep them occupied, it pays to know Chinese (which at the very least will get you a welcome round of applause). It DEFINITELY pays to be prepared.
For now, even though my internal monologue is a constant barrage of, "are you kidding me?", "how can you not understand what I am trying to tell you?", I passively wait, close my eyes and wait until one of the better students can encourage the others to be quiet.
In high school, I am fairly certain that I was partially to blame for two Spanish teachers leaving their jobs. My angst caused that, and I think it is all coming back to haunt me now. Proof that karma does exist.
I often wonder how this new found tolerance will affect me in America. Will I be ambivalent to minor distractions? Will other peoples inability to cope with them set me off or anger me? Yes, it will, it already has, as I have observed in my travel encounters with other Westerner's. I mean, when I spend my time slurping down street-fried noodles with chopsticks while walking into on-coming traffic, how can I be upset when the waiter brings me the wrong dish.
It's just China. It has no explanation. It is a land of contradictions and confusion. My words cannot do it justice. There are highs, that are really high, and the lows that are really low.
It's all like Class #85. Confused, comical, chaotic, splendid, tiresome, delightful. The only thing it never is, is boring.
The latter statement is by no means a way of saying that I am a good English teacher. Class #85, like all classes, has approximately 60-65 students, but since they are an "advanced" class (meaning the students in that class tested higher on their Chinese, Math and Science admissions tests...not English) they are afforded the opportunity to take oral English classes in a smaller setting.
The class is divided up. 35 students go to my section, 35 go to another foreign teacher's section, twice a week. Some days, students decide that they want to switch teachers. They have left the other foreign teacher's class because she is, in their words, "too mean", "gets too angry" or "is ugly". I noticed this population spurt one day when my class had a several unfamiliar faces in it.
Adjective-diversity aside, with the lack of oversight and a communication barrier, there is really no way of preventing this floundering in and out of the classroom. Threats of telling their head teacher only work so much. Sure, you can give them a bad grade, but since grades are basically meaningless (everything revolves around the tests they take after the end of the Junior 3 and Senior 3 years) that does little good. I am not even sure if the students, though it has been explained to them numerous times, understand the difference between and "A" and an "F", except that one is "hao" (good) and one is "bu hao" (not good).
This class exemplifies everything that is wrong with the Chinese education system. While that blatant charge is very subjective, I can tell you that there are some students that can speak better English, but because their test scores in Math, Chinese and Science were lower than their classmates on their admissions test, they do not go to the advanced class. They stay in their classes for three years, until the next admissions test, at which point, if they test well enough, they can continue at Yali. Otherwise, it is back to the school shopping block. Are you confused yet?
Back to class #85. Who could suspect that with names such as "Freeze", "Mirage", "God", "Answer", and "Fred-Almighty", there would be any sort of discipline problems with these students? The fact is, Chinese students see oral English classes as a time to goof off. Who can blame them? With their schedule, I would want to clown around with my friends too.
Last Thursday though, freshly annointed into a new semester of teaching, Class #85 had me sulking in anger. With chairs arranged in a "speed dating" style, to encourage conversing for an activity I had planned, the students immediately went to work in dismantling the set-up to group the chairs together with their friends. Big deal, right? Imagine, if this happened 7 times in one week. In America, most students would realize that, "oh, there is a pattern to this set-up, we probably should not rearrange the chairs." Not here.
A group of 14 year-old girls, habitually late, saunter in with a West Beverly High attitude and fake Adidas and Nike bags slung over their shoulders (on another note: Trademark infringement is the lay of the land in China, which is great if you like a good, cheap knock-off, but awful if you actually care about having your intellectual property protected). The girls gab and laugh, completely unaware to the feelings of the teacher at the front of the class, eyes closed and breathing deeply and just waiting for what could be minutes for the vocal level to die down. This happens in every class. 18 times a week. Numerous times over the 45 minute stretch of each.
The common-sense standards of Chinese people are light-years away (not in an evolutionary-advanced, "I am an arrogant American" sort of way), but in a way that says their concept of the matter is just different. Different rules apply here. Coupled with the spacial relationships that the Chinese have with their environment, it can be a recipe for high blood pressure for any teacher, any public bus passenger and any escalator rider.
Which brings me to the title of this essay. Contortionist's will. It pays to be flexible in China. Buses run late, early, sometimes not at all and always at the whim of the driver. A strange contradiction when they could be fresh off the assembly line with heating, AC and flat screen tvs.
Schedules change, with great notice, little notice or no notice. Usually I get word through the form of a text from my liaison. More often, through my own investigating with the students. Founding out when finals, holidays, summer vacation begins, is like trying to predict an earthquake. Ball-parked, is the best you can hope for. My Chinese colleagues, do not flinch at this. I still, STILL have trouble not believing that the school cannot know when the last day of classes will be. I hate that I have that feeling.
The trouble my students cause me in class has lead me to drop expletives and slam down books. I've walked out, kicked students out, made them do push-ups and lost my temper. I get better at handling it each day. It pays to laugh, it pays to not take it seriously, it pays to keep them occupied, it pays to know Chinese (which at the very least will get you a welcome round of applause). It DEFINITELY pays to be prepared.
For now, even though my internal monologue is a constant barrage of, "are you kidding me?", "how can you not understand what I am trying to tell you?", I passively wait, close my eyes and wait until one of the better students can encourage the others to be quiet.
In high school, I am fairly certain that I was partially to blame for two Spanish teachers leaving their jobs. My angst caused that, and I think it is all coming back to haunt me now. Proof that karma does exist.
I often wonder how this new found tolerance will affect me in America. Will I be ambivalent to minor distractions? Will other peoples inability to cope with them set me off or anger me? Yes, it will, it already has, as I have observed in my travel encounters with other Westerner's. I mean, when I spend my time slurping down street-fried noodles with chopsticks while walking into on-coming traffic, how can I be upset when the waiter brings me the wrong dish.
It's just China. It has no explanation. It is a land of contradictions and confusion. My words cannot do it justice. There are highs, that are really high, and the lows that are really low.
It's all like Class #85. Confused, comical, chaotic, splendid, tiresome, delightful. The only thing it never is, is boring.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
On the Bus....
Changsha city bus # 135 churns away from the school's entrance at a battleship-like angle, crossing four lanes of traffic to get to the other side, and dodging cars and pedestrians that cram the street at the bottom of the school as class gets out each day.
The bus is somewhat retro. Aluminum and wood floors, stained with the stamping of thousands of feet, not to mention what else. The driver puffs on a cigarette and wheels around as I peer out one of the aisle windows.
We are headed to the train station, a transit point on this route, where I will switch to another bus to take me into downtown Changsha. The sun has set and the street is full of life. Today is the Lantern Festival, the last day of Chinese New Year. I am headed to Martyr's Park to watch fireworks and take part in the festivities.
The bus continues, it's herky-jerky movements, answer my question as to why so many Chinese have motion sickness. After a month away from the bus system, I myself, for the first time, am feeling queezy. A mixture of the driving and the impurities I am inhaling as we coast down the road.
Headlights illuminate the smog that drifts from the street floor up to the sky. There are no stars visible, as is the case on most nights in Changsha. The city is plagued with development and chaos, and is blanketed with a thermal gray of toxin. A month away has also exposed me to much needed blue sky and fresher air, and my body is slowly readjusting to the pollution.
There is nothing special about this ride. The continual stare. A woman in front of me shouts at a man behind her, who I deduce to be her boyfriend or friend, in a manner that is not anger, but much louder than you think would be necessary for two people only inches apart. Her child gets on the bus and sits on her lap. He stares at me. I make a goofy face back at him which elicits no response. This is what I do most of the time I get a stare from a child. The occasional peek-a-boo may work, but mostly they just smile back or if they are too small, look away nervously and then resume their staring moments later. You learn to let it all go. When an adult stares, I usually try to strike up a conversation, or at least say "Ni Hao" (hello), which catches them so off guard that they look away. It is all very comical to me now.
I trade buses and head to the park. It is a sea of people. I check my backpack numerous times to make sure everything is accounted for and all the zippers zipped before heading in. Bright, electronic lanterns are strewn over the main promenade of the park, an homage, albeit a less exotic one, to yesteryear. A time in which the lanterns were of paper, wood and candle.
Like most crowds in China, there is not much you can do but just go with the flow. Here in this one park, in this one city that no one outside China knows, on this one day in China, there has to be more people than crowd Times Square on any-given New Year's Eve. This is the scene in cities and towns all over China. Most people just really do not fathom this. There is so many people here.
The lakes of the park are alive with rowboats, and small ferry rides, paddle boats and people lighting paper lanterns and setting them to fly into the sky. There is no structure to the fireworking of this holiday, and explosions come from all angels and from all around. People are celebrating. Chinese style.
I spend about 45 minutes walking around the park before I get a craving for some noodles from a local Muslim restaurant. The noodles are thick and spicy and Changsha does not have much cuisine from other provinces. I indulge and buy two bowls to go, not knowing when I will be in the neighborhood again.
Then it is back on the bus, to continue the (at least) 45 minute commute back to our school. This time, the ride takes much longer. The bus is packed and traffic is bad. I stand up, backpack on, two bags of hot noodles in my hand and hold on to one of the handles. Eventually, I find a seat, sit down and resume the staring contest with another child.
Just another typical day on a bus, nothing special. These trips always make me feel like I am learning so much, just an observer, just watching the world take it's course.
The bus is somewhat retro. Aluminum and wood floors, stained with the stamping of thousands of feet, not to mention what else. The driver puffs on a cigarette and wheels around as I peer out one of the aisle windows.
We are headed to the train station, a transit point on this route, where I will switch to another bus to take me into downtown Changsha. The sun has set and the street is full of life. Today is the Lantern Festival, the last day of Chinese New Year. I am headed to Martyr's Park to watch fireworks and take part in the festivities.
The bus continues, it's herky-jerky movements, answer my question as to why so many Chinese have motion sickness. After a month away from the bus system, I myself, for the first time, am feeling queezy. A mixture of the driving and the impurities I am inhaling as we coast down the road.
Headlights illuminate the smog that drifts from the street floor up to the sky. There are no stars visible, as is the case on most nights in Changsha. The city is plagued with development and chaos, and is blanketed with a thermal gray of toxin. A month away has also exposed me to much needed blue sky and fresher air, and my body is slowly readjusting to the pollution.
There is nothing special about this ride. The continual stare. A woman in front of me shouts at a man behind her, who I deduce to be her boyfriend or friend, in a manner that is not anger, but much louder than you think would be necessary for two people only inches apart. Her child gets on the bus and sits on her lap. He stares at me. I make a goofy face back at him which elicits no response. This is what I do most of the time I get a stare from a child. The occasional peek-a-boo may work, but mostly they just smile back or if they are too small, look away nervously and then resume their staring moments later. You learn to let it all go. When an adult stares, I usually try to strike up a conversation, or at least say "Ni Hao" (hello), which catches them so off guard that they look away. It is all very comical to me now.
I trade buses and head to the park. It is a sea of people. I check my backpack numerous times to make sure everything is accounted for and all the zippers zipped before heading in. Bright, electronic lanterns are strewn over the main promenade of the park, an homage, albeit a less exotic one, to yesteryear. A time in which the lanterns were of paper, wood and candle.
Like most crowds in China, there is not much you can do but just go with the flow. Here in this one park, in this one city that no one outside China knows, on this one day in China, there has to be more people than crowd Times Square on any-given New Year's Eve. This is the scene in cities and towns all over China. Most people just really do not fathom this. There is so many people here.
The lakes of the park are alive with rowboats, and small ferry rides, paddle boats and people lighting paper lanterns and setting them to fly into the sky. There is no structure to the fireworking of this holiday, and explosions come from all angels and from all around. People are celebrating. Chinese style.
I spend about 45 minutes walking around the park before I get a craving for some noodles from a local Muslim restaurant. The noodles are thick and spicy and Changsha does not have much cuisine from other provinces. I indulge and buy two bowls to go, not knowing when I will be in the neighborhood again.
Then it is back on the bus, to continue the (at least) 45 minute commute back to our school. This time, the ride takes much longer. The bus is packed and traffic is bad. I stand up, backpack on, two bags of hot noodles in my hand and hold on to one of the handles. Eventually, I find a seat, sit down and resume the staring contest with another child.
Just another typical day on a bus, nothing special. These trips always make me feel like I am learning so much, just an observer, just watching the world take it's course.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Crossing Over-Old Post
I am now in my third country of my trip. After 3 and a half days in Bangkok and 11 days in Cambodia, I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam yesterday morning. Most people know HCMC as Saigon, and the name itself brings to mind allusions and images of the Vietnam War, or as it is known her, the American War.
What I have found, thus far, on this enriching historic and educational journey, is the far reaching impact and implications of America's history. How our imperialistic tendencies and corporate greed have shaped economic and foreign policy since WWII.
This is not to say, that America is the only country with blood on their hands, but I can truthfully say, that I had NO IDEA, the ground-level effects of America on the rest of the world. Sure, we all see McDonalds and Wal Mart in foreign countries, but there is such a deeper and more profound impact that our nation has had on shaping the destiny of the world.
What I have found, thus far, on this enriching historic and educational journey, is the far reaching impact and implications of America's history. How our imperialistic tendencies and corporate greed have shaped economic and foreign policy since WWII.
This is not to say, that America is the only country with blood on their hands, but I can truthfully say, that I had NO IDEA, the ground-level effects of America on the rest of the world. Sure, we all see McDonalds and Wal Mart in foreign countries, but there is such a deeper and more profound impact that our nation has had on shaping the destiny of the world.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Cambodia
Cambodia will always have a special place in my heart. No more of a cliche statement could be made apart from that. Cambodia to me is a place of rich history, pain, enchantment, mysticism, corruption and smiles.
I have been here for 9 days, and spent the majority of that time in Phnom Penh. A city I did not intend to stay in for that long, but one in which I found a significant part I could play, albeit a short one, by helping the children of the People Improvement Organization in the Stoeng Mean Chey garbage dump.
PIO helps over 200 students in Phnom Penh. All are poor, some are orphaned. In the class I am volunteering with, their ages range from 10-18. They are boys and girls that do not look their age. Poor nutrition has stunted their growth, like many Cambodian children, to the point where one 15 year old boy in my class could easily pass for 8.
They run up to me the moment I step out of the tuk tuk. They take me by the hand. They hug me when I leave. Perhaps they are so starved for some sort of love, some fatherly figure, that they clutch to whatever foreigner comes into their midst.
They track barefoot over broken glass, sheep dung, hypodermic needles and viles of blood. They do this, all the while smiling and playing, making make-shift kites out of notebook paper and yarn, dancing about amongst garbage pickers and truck drivers.
Here, they are getting a shot at a better future. One that their country and their government cannot provide. They face exploitation, from yes, foreign hands, and I find the tourists that drive by their school to photograph their faces, unknowingly using them as if they are a circus side-show.
Something has happened to me, even before I got to this school. Something about the people of Cambodia and their ways. Something about the immense suffering they have witnessed and that has shaped a dim future. Working with these students only furthers my belief, that even though it is idealistic and hopeful, I believe I can change the world. Even though I know it cannot be done by one person, namely someone like me, whose name does not end in Jolie or Pitt, or whose company does not do 60 billion in sales, I still feel the same way. That I can make that difference. That I can lead them to something better.
Cambodia is reaffirmed that this is the work I was meant to do. Maybe it is because of my upbringing that I can easily relate to these children, maybe that is the reason I am skeptical of the rich and the privileged, namely Westerners who exploit and complain at the drop of the hat. Maybe it is just my simple belief that one person can make a difference, and that there is no better time to start than now.
I have been here for 9 days, and spent the majority of that time in Phnom Penh. A city I did not intend to stay in for that long, but one in which I found a significant part I could play, albeit a short one, by helping the children of the People Improvement Organization in the Stoeng Mean Chey garbage dump.
PIO helps over 200 students in Phnom Penh. All are poor, some are orphaned. In the class I am volunteering with, their ages range from 10-18. They are boys and girls that do not look their age. Poor nutrition has stunted their growth, like many Cambodian children, to the point where one 15 year old boy in my class could easily pass for 8.
They run up to me the moment I step out of the tuk tuk. They take me by the hand. They hug me when I leave. Perhaps they are so starved for some sort of love, some fatherly figure, that they clutch to whatever foreigner comes into their midst.
They track barefoot over broken glass, sheep dung, hypodermic needles and viles of blood. They do this, all the while smiling and playing, making make-shift kites out of notebook paper and yarn, dancing about amongst garbage pickers and truck drivers.
Here, they are getting a shot at a better future. One that their country and their government cannot provide. They face exploitation, from yes, foreign hands, and I find the tourists that drive by their school to photograph their faces, unknowingly using them as if they are a circus side-show.
Something has happened to me, even before I got to this school. Something about the people of Cambodia and their ways. Something about the immense suffering they have witnessed and that has shaped a dim future. Working with these students only furthers my belief, that even though it is idealistic and hopeful, I believe I can change the world. Even though I know it cannot be done by one person, namely someone like me, whose name does not end in Jolie or Pitt, or whose company does not do 60 billion in sales, I still feel the same way. That I can make that difference. That I can lead them to something better.
Cambodia is reaffirmed that this is the work I was meant to do. Maybe it is because of my upbringing that I can easily relate to these children, maybe that is the reason I am skeptical of the rich and the privileged, namely Westerners who exploit and complain at the drop of the hat. Maybe it is just my simple belief that one person can make a difference, and that there is no better time to start than now.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Siem Reap-Angkor
January 2-4, 2009
On the morning of January 2nd, I took a stifling 6 hour bus ride to Siem Reap. A sleepy, little tourist trap 6 hours to the Northeast of Phnom Penh. Siem Reap is quaint and much quieter than Phnom Penh. If you find your self in this town, it is for one reason. To visit the Angkor Archeological Park.
The park is better known as just Angkor Wat. The latter being the most famous of the park's temples. It is easily one of the most impressive man-made wonders of the ancient world and epitomizes the strength and solidarity of the once powerful Khmer empire, situated where most of modern-day Cambodia is.
The park itself is massive, and we spent a tiring full day on the 3rd, using a tuk-tuk to transverse the kilometers between monuments. The sunrise at Angkor Wat was not the most impressive part of the day. That would have to come at being able to climb on most of the monuments, past relics of Hinduism and Buddhism, past stone thousands of years old, the transfixing faces of Bayon and seeing the massive trees that cover Ta Prhom. As always, passing the international onslaught of fellow travelers, is an unavoidable task.
Angkor Wat is a must-see. I feel so blessed to have seen the Coliseum in Rome, Pompeii's ancient city ruins, the Great Wall and now Angkor.
This was a fleeting visit to Siem Reap. 2 nights with really a sunset and a full day at the park. On the 4th it was off to Phnom Penh again, where we arrived around 6pm. Even complete with a flat tire on the bus ride, and another sticky bus seat, I was able to get some sleep and continue reading my latest book. The ride also gives you a good glimpse into the life of rural Cambodia, where people's villages flank the road sides, and irrigation ponds dot the landscape. Once look at this country and you would think it was Africa.
In all places, I bought a Happy Meal (though from a Cambodian fast food chain) back in Phnom Penh. Then it was a night of rest and relaxation. A 5 dollar, one hour foot massage was just the nightcap I needed.
On the morning of January 2nd, I took a stifling 6 hour bus ride to Siem Reap. A sleepy, little tourist trap 6 hours to the Northeast of Phnom Penh. Siem Reap is quaint and much quieter than Phnom Penh. If you find your self in this town, it is for one reason. To visit the Angkor Archeological Park.
The park is better known as just Angkor Wat. The latter being the most famous of the park's temples. It is easily one of the most impressive man-made wonders of the ancient world and epitomizes the strength and solidarity of the once powerful Khmer empire, situated where most of modern-day Cambodia is.
The park itself is massive, and we spent a tiring full day on the 3rd, using a tuk-tuk to transverse the kilometers between monuments. The sunrise at Angkor Wat was not the most impressive part of the day. That would have to come at being able to climb on most of the monuments, past relics of Hinduism and Buddhism, past stone thousands of years old, the transfixing faces of Bayon and seeing the massive trees that cover Ta Prhom. As always, passing the international onslaught of fellow travelers, is an unavoidable task.
Angkor Wat is a must-see. I feel so blessed to have seen the Coliseum in Rome, Pompeii's ancient city ruins, the Great Wall and now Angkor.
This was a fleeting visit to Siem Reap. 2 nights with really a sunset and a full day at the park. On the 4th it was off to Phnom Penh again, where we arrived around 6pm. Even complete with a flat tire on the bus ride, and another sticky bus seat, I was able to get some sleep and continue reading my latest book. The ride also gives you a good glimpse into the life of rural Cambodia, where people's villages flank the road sides, and irrigation ponds dot the landscape. Once look at this country and you would think it was Africa.
In all places, I bought a Happy Meal (though from a Cambodian fast food chain) back in Phnom Penh. Then it was a night of rest and relaxation. A 5 dollar, one hour foot massage was just the nightcap I needed.
Monday, January 5, 2009
New Years in Phnom Penh
December 31, 2008/January 1, 2009
Ask most people what they expect from Phnom Penh, the capitol of Cambodia, and they would probably admit that they have never heard of it. However, this deeply historic city has seen its turn of the good and the bad. From the Khmer Rouge, to the French, to the Vietnamese. Phnom Penh is ensconced in Frenchness, with baguettes on the street and the architecture to match. It is also surrounded by reminders, mainly through the citizens that lived through it, of the terrible reign of the Khmer Rouge and the uncertainty thereafter their downfall.
The city is riddled with motobike taxis and tuk tuks, beckoning for your service. The food, diverse as it is plentiful, marks a welcome change to the street food of Bangkok, though you pay much more for it. Guesthouses are cheap, at 3-6 dollars a night.
I spent New Year's Eve in Phnom Penh. After a $2 haircut and some beers with a street vendor, it was just a matter of following the crowd. Dancing in a club full of lights and the smiles of foreiners and locals.
The next day, however, was much darker, with trips to the Killing Fields and Tulong Sleng, a former Khmer Rouge prison. Just how this culture, this society, has survived an onlslaught of foreign invaders, a genocide unmatched in paranoia and terror (and international silence and knowledge) and a generally economically poor people, is puzzling.
The only thing that goes farther down the road of wonderment, is the enchantment of the Khmer smile, which lights the faces of Cambodia as bright as the blazing sun.
Ask most people what they expect from Phnom Penh, the capitol of Cambodia, and they would probably admit that they have never heard of it. However, this deeply historic city has seen its turn of the good and the bad. From the Khmer Rouge, to the French, to the Vietnamese. Phnom Penh is ensconced in Frenchness, with baguettes on the street and the architecture to match. It is also surrounded by reminders, mainly through the citizens that lived through it, of the terrible reign of the Khmer Rouge and the uncertainty thereafter their downfall.
The city is riddled with motobike taxis and tuk tuks, beckoning for your service. The food, diverse as it is plentiful, marks a welcome change to the street food of Bangkok, though you pay much more for it. Guesthouses are cheap, at 3-6 dollars a night.
I spent New Year's Eve in Phnom Penh. After a $2 haircut and some beers with a street vendor, it was just a matter of following the crowd. Dancing in a club full of lights and the smiles of foreiners and locals.
The next day, however, was much darker, with trips to the Killing Fields and Tulong Sleng, a former Khmer Rouge prison. Just how this culture, this society, has survived an onlslaught of foreign invaders, a genocide unmatched in paranoia and terror (and international silence and knowledge) and a generally economically poor people, is puzzling.
The only thing that goes farther down the road of wonderment, is the enchantment of the Khmer smile, which lights the faces of Cambodia as bright as the blazing sun.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Spring Festival-Part One
Each year, the Chinese hold Spring Festival. In schools, this is also known as Winter Break and it coincides with the Chinese New Year. This year, the Chinese New Year is on January 25. This is all based on the Lunar calendar. My school has given me from December 25-February 8 off for winter break. So, what to do with that time? Backpack across Southeast Asia of course. Here are some of the highlights so far. I will be trying to post some pictures in the near future.
December 25, 2008
Christmas was very chill. I spent it finishing up scholarship applications, getting foreign currency (i.e. USD) and getting ready to leave. That night I hung out with some friends and had dinner.
December 26, 2008
Packed and left Changsha on the 10:40pm overnight train to Shenzhen. Shenzhen is on the border of Hong Kong and is the gateway to the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region.
December 27, 2008
When we got in (I am with my friend Stephanie), we hopped on a random bus to take us around Shenzhen. We had all day to kill because we were flying out of Shenzhen that night (to Bangkok). We spent the day chilling in some restaurants, taking a nap or two in a park and then just sitting at the airport.
However, what I learned of Shenzhen is that it is the ultra of modern Chinese cities. Rich, rich, rich. It was the first city to really be allowed to experiment with capitalism and the effects, from the numerous glossy skyscrapers, to the overpriced taxis are everywhere. Unfortanately, Shenzhen leaves little for the traveller and is really just a transit point, albeit a very large one.
The highlight of the Shenzhen stay had to be the trouble I had getting past Chinese customs. Long story short, my passport picture is very unflattering and I had to show two other forms of ID for the clerk to believe me. In addition, a Swiss Army knife and multi-tool I had forgeton in my pack (which I was carrying on) got confiscated when I tried totake them on board. Embarrassing? Yes.
Not the start I wanted but I made it to the flight.
Overall Grade for Shenzhen: D
December 28, 2008-December 31, 2008
We arrived in Bangkok at about 3am in the morning, took a cab to our hostel and just chilled until the next morning. Now there are many stories that people can tell about Bangkok. How it is dirty, how you can find whatever you want there, how it is really stinky, how it has great food.
ALL of it is true.
Dirty-Moreso in the ethical sense. I thought that Bangkok was a great city for the first day, but after the second day, I began to get really creeped out by the abundance of transient expats and sexpats calling the city home. It has a real sleazy feeling to it and some of the stuff I saw in Bangkok I cannot repeat on here :).
Overall, my time in Bangkok was spent walking, visiting a Wat (Bhuddist temple), taking a river taxi, visiting a night market (complete with donuts and shakes), strolling around the multitude of vendors outside of the Grand Palace and tasting some excellent street food.
The best part about Bangkok for a short stay, has to be the night life. I did ingulge in checking out Bangkok's gay club scene which is expansive and attractive.
There were many little adventures in my 84 hours in Bangkok. A few include the tuk-tuk rides around town. They are simply a must for anyone that travels in SE Asia. In fact, you will not be able to not use the tuk-tuk, which is a motorcylce converted into a taxi for 1-4 people. Just be aware that some of the tuk tuk drivers like to drink soooo.....cheers!
On New Year's Eve, Christina another volunteer met up with us, and we flew to Phnom Penh, Cambodia.
Overall Grade for Bangkok: A-
Big points for food, nightlife, culture and general feel of the city. Points off for sleeziness that transpires from tourist based economy and uptight and rude locals who overcharge for imported t-shirts from Africa. If you are planning a trip to Bangkok, just remember what the song says:
One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster
The bars are temples but the pearls ain't free
You'll find a god in every golden cloister
A little flesh, a little history
I can feel an angel sliding up to me
One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble
Not much between despair and ecstasy
One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble
Can't be too careful with your company
I can feel the devil walking next to me
December 25, 2008
Christmas was very chill. I spent it finishing up scholarship applications, getting foreign currency (i.e. USD) and getting ready to leave. That night I hung out with some friends and had dinner.
December 26, 2008
Packed and left Changsha on the 10:40pm overnight train to Shenzhen. Shenzhen is on the border of Hong Kong and is the gateway to the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region.
December 27, 2008
When we got in (I am with my friend Stephanie), we hopped on a random bus to take us around Shenzhen. We had all day to kill because we were flying out of Shenzhen that night (to Bangkok). We spent the day chilling in some restaurants, taking a nap or two in a park and then just sitting at the airport.
However, what I learned of Shenzhen is that it is the ultra of modern Chinese cities. Rich, rich, rich. It was the first city to really be allowed to experiment with capitalism and the effects, from the numerous glossy skyscrapers, to the overpriced taxis are everywhere. Unfortanately, Shenzhen leaves little for the traveller and is really just a transit point, albeit a very large one.
The highlight of the Shenzhen stay had to be the trouble I had getting past Chinese customs. Long story short, my passport picture is very unflattering and I had to show two other forms of ID for the clerk to believe me. In addition, a Swiss Army knife and multi-tool I had forgeton in my pack (which I was carrying on) got confiscated when I tried totake them on board. Embarrassing? Yes.
Not the start I wanted but I made it to the flight.
Overall Grade for Shenzhen: D
December 28, 2008-December 31, 2008
We arrived in Bangkok at about 3am in the morning, took a cab to our hostel and just chilled until the next morning. Now there are many stories that people can tell about Bangkok. How it is dirty, how you can find whatever you want there, how it is really stinky, how it has great food.
ALL of it is true.
Dirty-Moreso in the ethical sense. I thought that Bangkok was a great city for the first day, but after the second day, I began to get really creeped out by the abundance of transient expats and sexpats calling the city home. It has a real sleazy feeling to it and some of the stuff I saw in Bangkok I cannot repeat on here :).
Overall, my time in Bangkok was spent walking, visiting a Wat (Bhuddist temple), taking a river taxi, visiting a night market (complete with donuts and shakes), strolling around the multitude of vendors outside of the Grand Palace and tasting some excellent street food.
The best part about Bangkok for a short stay, has to be the night life. I did ingulge in checking out Bangkok's gay club scene which is expansive and attractive.
There were many little adventures in my 84 hours in Bangkok. A few include the tuk-tuk rides around town. They are simply a must for anyone that travels in SE Asia. In fact, you will not be able to not use the tuk-tuk, which is a motorcylce converted into a taxi for 1-4 people. Just be aware that some of the tuk tuk drivers like to drink soooo.....cheers!
On New Year's Eve, Christina another volunteer met up with us, and we flew to Phnom Penh, Cambodia.
Overall Grade for Bangkok: A-
Big points for food, nightlife, culture and general feel of the city. Points off for sleeziness that transpires from tourist based economy and uptight and rude locals who overcharge for imported t-shirts from Africa. If you are planning a trip to Bangkok, just remember what the song says:
One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster
The bars are temples but the pearls ain't free
You'll find a god in every golden cloister
A little flesh, a little history
I can feel an angel sliding up to me
One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble
Not much between despair and ecstasy
One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble
Can't be too careful with your company
I can feel the devil walking next to me
Friday, December 19, 2008
Where Are You Now?
December 21, 2008
One of the reasons I started this blog is for the reflective qualities it will hold as I read over it from time to time.
As I sit here, nearing the middle of my service, it is hard to accurately describe emotions. The latter, proves to be a daunting task, as I am not accustom to broadcasting my feelings over the Internet. Regardless, what I have found is that my emotions have ran the whole gauntlet here. Happiness, sadness, loneliness, elation, excitement, hesitation, apprehension, jubilation, satisfaction, contentment. I have felt them all. Even more strange, is that I have felt them all in short amounts of time. In phases and even during the same day. In the most exceptional cases, I have felt contrasting emotions within a matter of seconds.
One may not feel that this is too much different than how we feel in our comfort zone. However, I believe that going from the satisfaction of hearing your favorite song on the radio cruising down the freeway, to the anger you get when someone cuts you off moments later, has little comparison to this experience.
Since I have been here, I have had varying degrees of interest. I have also had varying levels of culture shock. What I know for sure, is that culture shock is a continuous mechanism. It presents itself everyday. For the most part, I believe that the longer you stay in a foreign place, the more subtle it becomes. Comparatively, the easier it is to cope with. On the other hand, while big shock factors immediately hit you and fade away, other things stay with you, stick to you. Also, you begin to unearth other differences that were once hidden.
For me, right now, at this moment, the biggest feeling of cultural difference has to do with the fact that I am in an uninterested state in my Chinese language learning. I went from an adamant and peak period, to one in which I have devoted little time over the past three weeks and have regrettably (but maybe necessarily) relied just on English. Of course, I have also been applying for scholarships and planning Spring Festival. In addition, the dreariness of not being at home for Christmas has also set in. That alone is a major deterrent from wanting to engage in the very thing that is preventing you from being back in your comfort zone.
Overall, in regards to language acquisition, I may have been to overzealous or had the wrong expectations. I could just be burnt out. Though I plan to keep up with the language by studying it over Spring Festival as much as possible, I also know that desensitizing from China is probably a good thing.
Living in China is not easy. It is the little things that I took for granted in America, that now lead me to dwell in a state of non-positivity from time to time. Little things that build up and fill your life. Like always having water on your bathroom floor, having to wear long underwear 24/7, having to get up or stay up to odd hours to communicate with people back home, avoiding slippery noodles on your classroom floor, non-stop noise and chaos in the classroom, etc.
I know, the reader is thinking, "that isn't so bad." But please, save the criticism. You don't know unless you have dealt with it. These little things can add up and really eat away at you. Which is precisely an example of how emotions can change in this setting. A month ago, I would have never written that sentence because those things didn't bother me. I enjoyed them. I liked the difference. I was fully acclimated into it. It was the norm. Today, maybe they do bother me. Three months ago, I was thriving on the chaotic structure of China. Today, I just want something to work without hesitation or having to tamper with it for 15 minutes.
Of course, I am humble and have it better than most. I know this. This is just observational. However, there are days when I long for the functionality and efficiency of America. Days in which I know that if I go someplace to get something, they will have it. Days in which I know that if something says it will start at a set time, it will start at that time. Days in which websites won't be blocked or communication interrupted. Ease is what I covet. That is what I feel right now. That is what I crave. That explains why I have not been on-par with my studying. It isn't easy to study Chinese. To motivate yourself to do it. A month ago was no problem, now it is. Peaks and valleys.
This experience is all about peaks and valleys. The reader most likely gets a lopsided viewpoint from my blog, because I tend to write only at times when I feel inspired, which coincidentally coincide with times I feel really good, really motivated or really angry. The low times, the valleys, make me persist with little enthusiasm for writing. Overall, there hasn't been more valleys than hills or vice-versa. If anything, they have been consistent in their sporadic rhythm. Up, down, up, up, way up, down a little, up, way down, way up, down. But, I am never stagnate. Never, just feeling nothing. It may be impossible to feel nothing here. There is so much going on. So much happening. Your mind is always alert and your senses always acute. So much so, that your emotions feel tangled and confused, as your mind searches for normalcy in an unfamiliar place.
One of the reasons I started this blog is for the reflective qualities it will hold as I read over it from time to time.
As I sit here, nearing the middle of my service, it is hard to accurately describe emotions. The latter, proves to be a daunting task, as I am not accustom to broadcasting my feelings over the Internet. Regardless, what I have found is that my emotions have ran the whole gauntlet here. Happiness, sadness, loneliness, elation, excitement, hesitation, apprehension, jubilation, satisfaction, contentment. I have felt them all. Even more strange, is that I have felt them all in short amounts of time. In phases and even during the same day. In the most exceptional cases, I have felt contrasting emotions within a matter of seconds.
One may not feel that this is too much different than how we feel in our comfort zone. However, I believe that going from the satisfaction of hearing your favorite song on the radio cruising down the freeway, to the anger you get when someone cuts you off moments later, has little comparison to this experience.
Since I have been here, I have had varying degrees of interest. I have also had varying levels of culture shock. What I know for sure, is that culture shock is a continuous mechanism. It presents itself everyday. For the most part, I believe that the longer you stay in a foreign place, the more subtle it becomes. Comparatively, the easier it is to cope with. On the other hand, while big shock factors immediately hit you and fade away, other things stay with you, stick to you. Also, you begin to unearth other differences that were once hidden.
For me, right now, at this moment, the biggest feeling of cultural difference has to do with the fact that I am in an uninterested state in my Chinese language learning. I went from an adamant and peak period, to one in which I have devoted little time over the past three weeks and have regrettably (but maybe necessarily) relied just on English. Of course, I have also been applying for scholarships and planning Spring Festival. In addition, the dreariness of not being at home for Christmas has also set in. That alone is a major deterrent from wanting to engage in the very thing that is preventing you from being back in your comfort zone.
Overall, in regards to language acquisition, I may have been to overzealous or had the wrong expectations. I could just be burnt out. Though I plan to keep up with the language by studying it over Spring Festival as much as possible, I also know that desensitizing from China is probably a good thing.
Living in China is not easy. It is the little things that I took for granted in America, that now lead me to dwell in a state of non-positivity from time to time. Little things that build up and fill your life. Like always having water on your bathroom floor, having to wear long underwear 24/7, having to get up or stay up to odd hours to communicate with people back home, avoiding slippery noodles on your classroom floor, non-stop noise and chaos in the classroom, etc.
I know, the reader is thinking, "that isn't so bad." But please, save the criticism. You don't know unless you have dealt with it. These little things can add up and really eat away at you. Which is precisely an example of how emotions can change in this setting. A month ago, I would have never written that sentence because those things didn't bother me. I enjoyed them. I liked the difference. I was fully acclimated into it. It was the norm. Today, maybe they do bother me. Three months ago, I was thriving on the chaotic structure of China. Today, I just want something to work without hesitation or having to tamper with it for 15 minutes.
Of course, I am humble and have it better than most. I know this. This is just observational. However, there are days when I long for the functionality and efficiency of America. Days in which I know that if I go someplace to get something, they will have it. Days in which I know that if something says it will start at a set time, it will start at that time. Days in which websites won't be blocked or communication interrupted. Ease is what I covet. That is what I feel right now. That is what I crave. That explains why I have not been on-par with my studying. It isn't easy to study Chinese. To motivate yourself to do it. A month ago was no problem, now it is. Peaks and valleys.
This experience is all about peaks and valleys. The reader most likely gets a lopsided viewpoint from my blog, because I tend to write only at times when I feel inspired, which coincidentally coincide with times I feel really good, really motivated or really angry. The low times, the valleys, make me persist with little enthusiasm for writing. Overall, there hasn't been more valleys than hills or vice-versa. If anything, they have been consistent in their sporadic rhythm. Up, down, up, up, way up, down a little, up, way down, way up, down. But, I am never stagnate. Never, just feeling nothing. It may be impossible to feel nothing here. There is so much going on. So much happening. Your mind is always alert and your senses always acute. So much so, that your emotions feel tangled and confused, as your mind searches for normalcy in an unfamiliar place.
All This is China
The girl across the aisle sits next to her friend, sucking on a lollipop. They are around 15, and headed home after being at school for 12 hours. The men on the bus wait patiently, while the women gab and discuss their day. The driver, flips through a newspaper as the bus fills to a level that will suit his decision to drive off.
Outside, the air is thick. Smog and dust, clutter the senses and make an even darker December night more black. Neon flashes from the restaurant across the street, and moto-taxis whistle by, amidst the occasional dump truck and mini-van. Everything about this scene is China.
I'm sitting in field full of harvested rice. An older woman approaches carrying stacks of wood. She sees me, keeps singing, and then hustles at a surprisingly quick pace, as two cows and their young calf round the bend. She drops the wood, breaks off a switch, and steers the hungry omnivores around the path. One which they know well by memory, and one which has been tread by cattle for decades before them.
Behind me, dogs bark at a tiny village. A few teenagers ride by on bikes on a road that sees little traffic. Maybe a tourist bus, every now and then. The sky is calm. The sun is out. The woman is met by her husband and they retire for the day. The rice, the woman, the bikes, the air. Everything about this scene is China.
I'm in a room full of Chinese teachers from the school's English department. They stand up, randomly taking turns toasting each other, us, and other distinguished guests. Quietly, waitresses tend to the four tables, placing food of every color, shape and taste in front of us. There is no shortage on quantity.
The men, traverse the room, cheers-ing as they go about. It doesn't matter that I have not met them, we drink til the glass is empty, and then place it down. The laughter is loud, the camaraderie boisterously overflows. The food and the music and the festivities continue, unabated, for about two hours. I get a sense of being in Ancient Rome. Consumption, spirits, celebrating the evening away. No worries to be had. Only the now, and only graciousness exists. Everything about this scene. The hospitality, the noise, the ease with which the Chinese laugh. Everything about this scene is China.
Outside, the air is thick. Smog and dust, clutter the senses and make an even darker December night more black. Neon flashes from the restaurant across the street, and moto-taxis whistle by, amidst the occasional dump truck and mini-van. Everything about this scene is China.
I'm sitting in field full of harvested rice. An older woman approaches carrying stacks of wood. She sees me, keeps singing, and then hustles at a surprisingly quick pace, as two cows and their young calf round the bend. She drops the wood, breaks off a switch, and steers the hungry omnivores around the path. One which they know well by memory, and one which has been tread by cattle for decades before them.
Behind me, dogs bark at a tiny village. A few teenagers ride by on bikes on a road that sees little traffic. Maybe a tourist bus, every now and then. The sky is calm. The sun is out. The woman is met by her husband and they retire for the day. The rice, the woman, the bikes, the air. Everything about this scene is China.
I'm in a room full of Chinese teachers from the school's English department. They stand up, randomly taking turns toasting each other, us, and other distinguished guests. Quietly, waitresses tend to the four tables, placing food of every color, shape and taste in front of us. There is no shortage on quantity.
The men, traverse the room, cheers-ing as they go about. It doesn't matter that I have not met them, we drink til the glass is empty, and then place it down. The laughter is loud, the camaraderie boisterously overflows. The food and the music and the festivities continue, unabated, for about two hours. I get a sense of being in Ancient Rome. Consumption, spirits, celebrating the evening away. No worries to be had. Only the now, and only graciousness exists. Everything about this scene. The hospitality, the noise, the ease with which the Chinese laugh. Everything about this scene is China.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Conflict Styles on an International Level
December 8, 2008
I dedicate this post to the women, men and youth of the Community Mediation Center of Southeastern Virginia, for whom I miss, am thankful for, and who taught me so much.
I have been wanting to write this post for a long time, but let other things get in the way. All, I can say is, I am so glad that I received the training in conflict resolution that I did as an AmeriCorps volunteer. It has proved and will continue to prove, invaluable during this experience.
Conflict is a part of everyone's life. From the ant to the ambassador, conflict exists. I believe conflict exists to teach us that their are options, and that reason can occur if we want it to. I have found that in China, not only have I witnessed conflict, experienced it and evaluated it continually, but I have used my methods for dealing with conflict (techniques I refer to as "the secret" because so few people actually know them) nearly every day, and much more than I did use back home. They are my secret weapon.
When do I use these coping methods? When I deal with other volunteers, students, my liaison, colleagues. During the times when I am the canvas for people to paint their problems and worries on, I use them. To be able to paraphrase and use reflective listening has benefited me to the nth degree. Without fail, I leave conversations feeling that I was in control of the conversation, I did not let it provoke me, lure me or trap me into an emotional fist fight.
In my own life, juggling a partnership with someone in California, I have used these techniques and have noticed how vastly superior they are to the alternatives: silent treatment or argument.
It is not easy having the conflict style I have, a collaborative competitor. Basically, what that translates to is that, "I would love to work with you, as long as I get my way." Nonetheless, what is the most important thing of all, is actually knowing that that is how I am. I have seen in China, just how big of a collaborator I am. How it has gotten me into trouble by trying to do too many things, with too many people. Say, plan a lesson or activity with another teacher, or, (OH MY GOD!) how it has wasted my time.
It has taken me a while to come up with a communication strategy to this, but after a behavioral assessment, I have learned that to be assertive, above all else, will never fail. Communication is the key. Scratch that, ASSERTIVE communication is the key. It may leave you feeling funny at first, "Am I being mean?," you may ask yourself, but it is the key. Obviously, there are times, when it pays to not be assertive. However, in the end, you can walk away with a clear conscience, and that is so much more rewarding than sacrificing your principles or priorities for other people.
I dedicate this post to the women, men and youth of the Community Mediation Center of Southeastern Virginia, for whom I miss, am thankful for, and who taught me so much.
I have been wanting to write this post for a long time, but let other things get in the way. All, I can say is, I am so glad that I received the training in conflict resolution that I did as an AmeriCorps volunteer. It has proved and will continue to prove, invaluable during this experience.
Conflict is a part of everyone's life. From the ant to the ambassador, conflict exists. I believe conflict exists to teach us that their are options, and that reason can occur if we want it to. I have found that in China, not only have I witnessed conflict, experienced it and evaluated it continually, but I have used my methods for dealing with conflict (techniques I refer to as "the secret" because so few people actually know them) nearly every day, and much more than I did use back home. They are my secret weapon.
When do I use these coping methods? When I deal with other volunteers, students, my liaison, colleagues. During the times when I am the canvas for people to paint their problems and worries on, I use them. To be able to paraphrase and use reflective listening has benefited me to the nth degree. Without fail, I leave conversations feeling that I was in control of the conversation, I did not let it provoke me, lure me or trap me into an emotional fist fight.
In my own life, juggling a partnership with someone in California, I have used these techniques and have noticed how vastly superior they are to the alternatives: silent treatment or argument.
It is not easy having the conflict style I have, a collaborative competitor. Basically, what that translates to is that, "I would love to work with you, as long as I get my way." Nonetheless, what is the most important thing of all, is actually knowing that that is how I am. I have seen in China, just how big of a collaborator I am. How it has gotten me into trouble by trying to do too many things, with too many people. Say, plan a lesson or activity with another teacher, or, (OH MY GOD!) how it has wasted my time.
It has taken me a while to come up with a communication strategy to this, but after a behavioral assessment, I have learned that to be assertive, above all else, will never fail. Communication is the key. Scratch that, ASSERTIVE communication is the key. It may leave you feeling funny at first, "Am I being mean?," you may ask yourself, but it is the key. Obviously, there are times, when it pays to not be assertive. However, in the end, you can walk away with a clear conscience, and that is so much more rewarding than sacrificing your principles or priorities for other people.
Overflow
December 8, 2008
There I am, standing on the bus. Backpack on, heavy winter coat in one hand, gym bag in the other. The weather outside is pleasant and warm, though I know that in a few hours, the mercury will fall. Hence, the coat.
Passengers jostle and gossip as the bus churns around Changsha's busy streets. Screeching to a halt at one stop, dangerously close to the bus in front, a group of young girls next to me explode into laughter. All this angers me. Not just the driver's apparent lack of depth perception, but the way that these things are just accepted as "the norm". This cultural difference, teaches me one thing: The Chinese have adapted different ways of dealing with the stresses of daily life. They laugh.
Each dilemma that could increase blood pressure or stop their heart, is met with a chuckle. Fits of temper and road rage are not the norm, they are the exception. For the most part, laughter has replaced anger. This defense must have been nurtured due to the fact that there is no way around the business, inefficiency and dysfunction of daily life here.
I take a seat, turn on my Ipod, and watch the world go by. On my way to the train station (where I will transfer to another bus to get to my friend's apartment), I have two thoughts:
One, this ride, is like so many I have had. Alone, full of my thoughts, watching the streets, worrying about my Chinese ability, suspiciously content. I hurriedly try to maximize time, scribbling notes, texting contacts, making a "to-do" list. I must be such an enigma to the old man next to me, as I peel a banana and drop the skin out the window during one of our stops. It isn't as if the latter is shocking. It is just that I look so rushed compared to him. With all that is going on in my life, I have little time to waste, and so I must use every amount of time I have, whether on the bus or waiting for one, on trying to improve one facet of myself, or juggle my relationship and career on two continents. I have found no way around it. It is just the way it is.
At the train station, I approach a driver of a bus I am unfamiliar with. "Xiaoyaun gongyuan, dao bu dao?" I ask, wondering if the bus stops where I need to go. I am met with the recyclable answer: "Ting bu dong" or "I don't understand you" and a laugh. How can this be? Even when I say the words correctly, my accent and pronunciation are so far off that they cannot understand me. Only with students or those that speak English themselves, is my pronunciation less suspect.
On the next bus, a seat next to the window. "Waiguoren (foreigner)" I hear, a girl in the back yell to her friend in the front. Both glance at me and exchange laughs and what figure to be jokes at my expense. In most cases, I would have spoken up, telling them, "Ni bu shou Waiguoren. Waiguoren bu hao. Wo shi Meiguoren (Don't say 'foreigner'. 'Foreigner' is not good. I am American."). If anything, this lets them know that just because I am not Chinese, it does not mean I cannot understand at least some words they say in their native tongue.
This continual cultural difference has been hard for me to get over. To put it in context, could you imagine an American constantly shouting a similar epithet each time they saw someone who "did not fit the norm". "Look honey, look at that German tourist!" Actually, "yes", many of us can, but at the very least the vast majority of Americans would not call out a tourist every time they see one. I realize that Changsha, and indeed many people and parts of China are still opening up to the rest of the world, but I cannot shake the feeling of being called, what I perceive to be, such a negative term.
The second thing this bus ride has made me realize is just out of place my emotions, professional capability and communication have been this whole year. At times, to say I have been on an emotional roller-coaster would not even do it justice. Other times, I am completely content. It is a tidal phenomenon. Currently, I am experiencing devotion and ambition towards my career. Whereas, just a few weeks ago, all I could think about was making Chinese friends.
In terms of professional connections, I have found that because their is a lack of cohesiveness with the school (I feel that I am a novelty, not a staff member), I often feel isolated, and left out of "the know". Some of this is due to the fact, that things work differently here, but though I am improving relationships with Chinese colleagues, I regret not having put more emphasis on it in the beginning.
Communication-wise, I often find myself speaking in a dumb-downed version of English to Chinese acquaintances. For example, instead of saying "vast", I would say "really, really big". I do this for their benefit, but is has had detrimental effects on my ability to sound eloquent when I speak to others. I have also noticed, that in hindsight, many of the battles I have had here, have not been with my school, locals or Chinese students, but Americans.
In fact, I can trace some of the most stressful situations here to acts by Americans, namely other volunteers. It is difficult to work at a school with other foreign teachers for this very reason. I realize now, that I should not waste time on collaboration with the other foreign teachers at my school (see the next blog about conflict style) and should have instead been more assertive with my communication from the beginning. All of this could seem irrelevant or boring, and it is hard to convey in words.
The bottom line here is this: Some Americans have the ability to turn anything into an ugly situation when they are out of their comfort zone. It is not their fault, it is just that because we have been born and raised in the epitome of functionality and efficiency, we come to expect things. Customer service related things, business related aspects, consumer related aspects, the list could go on. I, personally feel that I am able to cut through that, not "expect" anything and just go with what comes my way. However, others cannot and when you work with them, it can prove to be a very bumpy ride.
It is also difficult being an older volunteer. At 28, I have little interest in what 22, 23 and 24 year olds want from this experience. I know what I want, that is all that matters. For anyone thinking of doing a volunteer project abroad, you should really consider what it will be like for you with other Americans around. For me, I have found that I have spent (hopefully not wasted) a lot of energy and thought on what other volunteers do with their time. I have traced this to my curiosity in human relations and social interaction. In the end, I believe that that part of the experience will prove to be just as beneficial. That is, understanding how many Americans function on the international scene. However, all I can say is, for those volunteers wasting time in Americanized stores, coffee shops, with other volunteers and with other expats, have fun. I did not want that experience, and I have not had it for the most part. I have chosen to distance myself from that, though it comes at a price. People tend to see you as abrasive, but I know what I want and that is what matters.
Speaking of what I want, it is this: To learn as much of the Chinese language as possible; to make Chinese friends, people that I will stay in contact with after I leave; to travel throughout the country and see an diverse mix of city, rural, poor, rich and ethnic life. For the most part, I am keeping on that track.
So, today has been very productive for me. Full of the usual. I am comfortable with where I am at, and I am more motivated than ever to get where I want to be. I feel that I am for the first time here, becoming my own person, whereas for the past four months, I have juggled so much, experienced so much and been tested so much. See, there goes that lack of eloquence again.
There I am, standing on the bus. Backpack on, heavy winter coat in one hand, gym bag in the other. The weather outside is pleasant and warm, though I know that in a few hours, the mercury will fall. Hence, the coat.
Passengers jostle and gossip as the bus churns around Changsha's busy streets. Screeching to a halt at one stop, dangerously close to the bus in front, a group of young girls next to me explode into laughter. All this angers me. Not just the driver's apparent lack of depth perception, but the way that these things are just accepted as "the norm". This cultural difference, teaches me one thing: The Chinese have adapted different ways of dealing with the stresses of daily life. They laugh.
Each dilemma that could increase blood pressure or stop their heart, is met with a chuckle. Fits of temper and road rage are not the norm, they are the exception. For the most part, laughter has replaced anger. This defense must have been nurtured due to the fact that there is no way around the business, inefficiency and dysfunction of daily life here.
I take a seat, turn on my Ipod, and watch the world go by. On my way to the train station (where I will transfer to another bus to get to my friend's apartment), I have two thoughts:
One, this ride, is like so many I have had. Alone, full of my thoughts, watching the streets, worrying about my Chinese ability, suspiciously content. I hurriedly try to maximize time, scribbling notes, texting contacts, making a "to-do" list. I must be such an enigma to the old man next to me, as I peel a banana and drop the skin out the window during one of our stops. It isn't as if the latter is shocking. It is just that I look so rushed compared to him. With all that is going on in my life, I have little time to waste, and so I must use every amount of time I have, whether on the bus or waiting for one, on trying to improve one facet of myself, or juggle my relationship and career on two continents. I have found no way around it. It is just the way it is.
At the train station, I approach a driver of a bus I am unfamiliar with. "Xiaoyaun gongyuan, dao bu dao?" I ask, wondering if the bus stops where I need to go. I am met with the recyclable answer: "Ting bu dong" or "I don't understand you" and a laugh. How can this be? Even when I say the words correctly, my accent and pronunciation are so far off that they cannot understand me. Only with students or those that speak English themselves, is my pronunciation less suspect.
On the next bus, a seat next to the window. "Waiguoren (foreigner)" I hear, a girl in the back yell to her friend in the front. Both glance at me and exchange laughs and what figure to be jokes at my expense. In most cases, I would have spoken up, telling them, "Ni bu shou Waiguoren. Waiguoren bu hao. Wo shi Meiguoren (Don't say 'foreigner'. 'Foreigner' is not good. I am American."). If anything, this lets them know that just because I am not Chinese, it does not mean I cannot understand at least some words they say in their native tongue.
This continual cultural difference has been hard for me to get over. To put it in context, could you imagine an American constantly shouting a similar epithet each time they saw someone who "did not fit the norm". "Look honey, look at that German tourist!" Actually, "yes", many of us can, but at the very least the vast majority of Americans would not call out a tourist every time they see one. I realize that Changsha, and indeed many people and parts of China are still opening up to the rest of the world, but I cannot shake the feeling of being called, what I perceive to be, such a negative term.
The second thing this bus ride has made me realize is just out of place my emotions, professional capability and communication have been this whole year. At times, to say I have been on an emotional roller-coaster would not even do it justice. Other times, I am completely content. It is a tidal phenomenon. Currently, I am experiencing devotion and ambition towards my career. Whereas, just a few weeks ago, all I could think about was making Chinese friends.
In terms of professional connections, I have found that because their is a lack of cohesiveness with the school (I feel that I am a novelty, not a staff member), I often feel isolated, and left out of "the know". Some of this is due to the fact, that things work differently here, but though I am improving relationships with Chinese colleagues, I regret not having put more emphasis on it in the beginning.
Communication-wise, I often find myself speaking in a dumb-downed version of English to Chinese acquaintances. For example, instead of saying "vast", I would say "really, really big". I do this for their benefit, but is has had detrimental effects on my ability to sound eloquent when I speak to others. I have also noticed, that in hindsight, many of the battles I have had here, have not been with my school, locals or Chinese students, but Americans.
In fact, I can trace some of the most stressful situations here to acts by Americans, namely other volunteers. It is difficult to work at a school with other foreign teachers for this very reason. I realize now, that I should not waste time on collaboration with the other foreign teachers at my school (see the next blog about conflict style) and should have instead been more assertive with my communication from the beginning. All of this could seem irrelevant or boring, and it is hard to convey in words.
The bottom line here is this: Some Americans have the ability to turn anything into an ugly situation when they are out of their comfort zone. It is not their fault, it is just that because we have been born and raised in the epitome of functionality and efficiency, we come to expect things. Customer service related things, business related aspects, consumer related aspects, the list could go on. I, personally feel that I am able to cut through that, not "expect" anything and just go with what comes my way. However, others cannot and when you work with them, it can prove to be a very bumpy ride.
It is also difficult being an older volunteer. At 28, I have little interest in what 22, 23 and 24 year olds want from this experience. I know what I want, that is all that matters. For anyone thinking of doing a volunteer project abroad, you should really consider what it will be like for you with other Americans around. For me, I have found that I have spent (hopefully not wasted) a lot of energy and thought on what other volunteers do with their time. I have traced this to my curiosity in human relations and social interaction. In the end, I believe that that part of the experience will prove to be just as beneficial. That is, understanding how many Americans function on the international scene. However, all I can say is, for those volunteers wasting time in Americanized stores, coffee shops, with other volunteers and with other expats, have fun. I did not want that experience, and I have not had it for the most part. I have chosen to distance myself from that, though it comes at a price. People tend to see you as abrasive, but I know what I want and that is what matters.
Speaking of what I want, it is this: To learn as much of the Chinese language as possible; to make Chinese friends, people that I will stay in contact with after I leave; to travel throughout the country and see an diverse mix of city, rural, poor, rich and ethnic life. For the most part, I am keeping on that track.
So, today has been very productive for me. Full of the usual. I am comfortable with where I am at, and I am more motivated than ever to get where I want to be. I feel that I am for the first time here, becoming my own person, whereas for the past four months, I have juggled so much, experienced so much and been tested so much. See, there goes that lack of eloquence again.
Friday, December 5, 2008
The Demon Barber of Shaoshan Nan Lu
December 6, 2008
It was all planned out. An hour at the gym, then off to get a massage. But, as I stood there, scoping my grizzly beard in the mirror, I felt a need. A need to get it shaved off. So, I forewent the massage and stopped off at the salon.
An hour and a half later, I would walk out, with half a mustache and (thankfully) my lips and ears still intact. Getting a shave in China, not the best idea. It takes a lot of nerve to go under the razor, especially when a salon full of gossipy Changshanese are gawking and laughing at the ridiculous possibilities that could transpire, should the young barber have a sudden twitch.
No harm done. The rest of the night, and partly the reason I am in so early, was spent with a co-worker at a local diner.
It was all planned out. An hour at the gym, then off to get a massage. But, as I stood there, scoping my grizzly beard in the mirror, I felt a need. A need to get it shaved off. So, I forewent the massage and stopped off at the salon.
An hour and a half later, I would walk out, with half a mustache and (thankfully) my lips and ears still intact. Getting a shave in China, not the best idea. It takes a lot of nerve to go under the razor, especially when a salon full of gossipy Changshanese are gawking and laughing at the ridiculous possibilities that could transpire, should the young barber have a sudden twitch.
No harm done. The rest of the night, and partly the reason I am in so early, was spent with a co-worker at a local diner.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
3rd Time is Definitely Not the Charm
Yesterday, marked the third time in as many weeks, that I have gotten some version of food poisoning. At least, I am hoping it is only that.
The first culprit: an overindulgence of steamed and fried dumplings topped off with Oreos. Ewwwwww. I guess that means I will not crave the latter anymore. On top of it, my friend got his bag stolen at the restaurant we were eating at that night. Insult to injury or vice versa.
Scenario Two: Grilled spicy potato wedges in Fenghuang. How I coveted them all day, only to find that when I got them, they were cold. Stupidly, I still ate them. Note to self: Never eat cold street food.
The Whopper: Must have been the cake or the egg or something else, but last night was no picnic. I'll spare the details but nothing can invoke hate more than food poisoning.
So, hopefully, I have learned a few lessons. Wash your hands numerous times a day. Do not touch your mouth. Finally, in general, just pay attention to what you eat.
I've been snacking on saltines and 7 up today, the only thing I can seem to stomach. However, I am happy to announce that hell on Earth can now be classified as "getting food poisoning in China." There is nothing more miserable. Well, I mean, comparatively.
Other than that, this week, I am teaching "music" to my students. I printed off copies of some classical rock songs. Bust. The students favorite artists: Backstreet Boys, Britney, Christina...though they also know Ne-Yo and Beyonce. Someone seriously needs to infuse more variety into their lives. I guess that will be me. My last class today, was filled with Simon Says (they are the beginning students) and it had to be one of the best classes I have had. Though, I was fatigued thanks to the lack of sleep last night.
My junior 2's seemed less interested in listening to music, than studying for their geography test. Apparently, it was a STRESSFUL situation for them.
So continues a sick and unusual week in China. Currently, I am still waiting on news of my Spring Festival dates, planning a trip regardless. Though, it is looking like India is definitely off the list now and Thailand has been downgraded to "not-likely". Laos, Vietnam and Cambodia are definite, with the possibility of Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia and Yunnan province (near the China/Myanmar border) pending time off.
So, until next time, zaijian.
The first culprit: an overindulgence of steamed and fried dumplings topped off with Oreos. Ewwwwww. I guess that means I will not crave the latter anymore. On top of it, my friend got his bag stolen at the restaurant we were eating at that night. Insult to injury or vice versa.
Scenario Two: Grilled spicy potato wedges in Fenghuang. How I coveted them all day, only to find that when I got them, they were cold. Stupidly, I still ate them. Note to self: Never eat cold street food.
The Whopper: Must have been the cake or the egg or something else, but last night was no picnic. I'll spare the details but nothing can invoke hate more than food poisoning.
So, hopefully, I have learned a few lessons. Wash your hands numerous times a day. Do not touch your mouth. Finally, in general, just pay attention to what you eat.
I've been snacking on saltines and 7 up today, the only thing I can seem to stomach. However, I am happy to announce that hell on Earth can now be classified as "getting food poisoning in China." There is nothing more miserable. Well, I mean, comparatively.
Other than that, this week, I am teaching "music" to my students. I printed off copies of some classical rock songs. Bust. The students favorite artists: Backstreet Boys, Britney, Christina...though they also know Ne-Yo and Beyonce. Someone seriously needs to infuse more variety into their lives. I guess that will be me. My last class today, was filled with Simon Says (they are the beginning students) and it had to be one of the best classes I have had. Though, I was fatigued thanks to the lack of sleep last night.
My junior 2's seemed less interested in listening to music, than studying for their geography test. Apparently, it was a STRESSFUL situation for them.
So continues a sick and unusual week in China. Currently, I am still waiting on news of my Spring Festival dates, planning a trip regardless. Though, it is looking like India is definitely off the list now and Thailand has been downgraded to "not-likely". Laos, Vietnam and Cambodia are definite, with the possibility of Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia and Yunnan province (near the China/Myanmar border) pending time off.
So, until next time, zaijian.
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