200lbs.

Most people only get 100 lbs. of checked luggage on an airline for free while some only get 50 lbs., but I get 200 lbs. This is one of the blessings of friendship. I originally thought that condensing my three years and three trips home into two 50 lb. suitcases would not be that difficult, but I found that I could easily fill a third bag when a friend who comes from a city only a few hours away from my parents told me she could take one for me. And, just today, another friend who comes from a city only an hour away from my hometown told me she could take a bag for me this winter. Needless to say, I will have no trouble filling that bag. It is trying to figure out what I won't need until then that is a bit trickier. It really is one giant puzzle, but I usually enjoy working them out, so you would think that the process would be enjoyable...

Saying goodbye to people you won't see in a couple months also carries its own weight. In some ways it is a good thing that that weight isn't measured by anyone, and it is even better that there is an amazing Father who can carry a whole lot more than we can. Cause at this point, my heart is definitely heavy. Leaving people is definitely harder than packing.

Guanxi

It is pronounced "GWAN-she" and means relationship, but it is more than just a relationship, it is being able to reap benefits from what you sow into the connection. Sowing isn't so much about money as it is time, though I suppose gift giving has some merit. And the benefits one hopes to reap can come in many different forms. One example is the performance I took part in this evening for Children's Day.

One of the Peter Hall teenagers knows a teacher in the primary school here at Sias. She got asked to sing a song for their annual celebration of children (which is really a glorified talent show). And the song that they wanted was one that she couldn't find a karaoke version of in her range. So she asked me to play a live acoustic version for her, which ended up being a lot more work than I realized but was still worth doing as a musician. I actually memorized the song, something I rarely do, and I think I drove my nearest and dearest next door neighbor to distraction with the number of times I rehearsed the song today...digressing...back to guanxi.

I did this favor for the teenager because of our relationship, but I have no connection to the teacher connected to the student. So when the teacher asked if I could stay until the end, I pretty much told her I was busy. She asked me to try. I "tried" for about thirty seconds in my head, but there was nothing to keep me. My teenager friend didn't care whether I stayed or left, and I had no one else to be responsible to, so I left. Now, had the teacher taken time to get to know me a little, make sure that the needs I expressed two weeks ago were taken care of (like the cord for the guitar), and even learned my name, I might have stayed. But I didn't even get introduced. And my microphone, for backup vocals, wasn't even turned on (though this truly isn't her fault). And while I know she had plenty to be worried about, learning someone's name takes all of ten seconds.

"So there you go." (Thank you My Big Fat Greek Wedding!) You don't sow, you don't reap. I guess relationships actually work like this everywhere, but I think it is more prevalent here. People get jobs because of guanxi more so than they do because they are actually qualified. I chose students to be possible candidates for a scholarship fund because of guanxi - they're my students. Well, they did qualify on their own merit, but I confess that I did favor them above others because I know them better than all the other faces on the applications. And truly, every student who applied is in need. (See previous post "Scholarship Fund Panel.") It is a way of existence here and is another reason socialism thrives here - people value and depend on relationships and connections with others far more than any other culture I've known.

Why Drugs Are Bad For You

I know it isn't the smartest thing I've ever done, but I didn't ask the doctor or the pharmacist yesterday to tell me specifically what each of the drugs are that he prescribed. And three out of the four medications I am taking are completely in Chinese.

I was able to look up two using Pleco (Chinese English Dictionary) and half of a third. But the fourth one is a mystery.

This is an antibiotic. According to medicine.net, it is used to treat bacterial infections of the throat, middle ear, tonsils, bronchi, pneumonia and bacterial infections of the skin and soft tissues. Side effects can include: nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, stomach pain, dizziness, rash and headache among some other uncommon ones. Thankfully I have kombucha, which should help replenish good bacteria in my digestive tract.

This one was pretty easy to look up using the radicals on Pleco, and it means to take orally Dahurica (Dahurian) the leaf (or root) of the Angelica plant (yao). It comes in tiny round white pills, probably about one millimeter in diameter and is supposed to help with headaches, nasal obstruction, swollen gums and toothache; detoxify blood and relieve pain; and also can serve as an anti-inflammatory, laxative and sedative. 

I am happy to know that my behavior the last two days is due in part to the side effects:

"excitatory effect" on the central nervous system, respiratory system and vasculomotor system. You can experience increased an respiration rate, blood pressure and saliva production and a decreased pulse rate; it can be used to induce vomiting and can cause sensitivity to sunlight. 

(See "One Month Marker" to get a taste of my side effects. Though I should include that I couldn't get to sleep last night and went on a wide range of emotions from crying to laughing to heart ache. I definitely feel more winded going upstairs. And I think I may be experiencing the laxative side effect as well. Needless to say, I will be glad when these meds run out in about 4 days.)

Still working on figuring out this one. The second character is feng, which means wind and obviously relates to breathing. The fourth character is du, which means narcotic (or poison). The fifth character is jiao, which means glue, gum, rubber and variations of these words. I can see radicals that are similar in the other characters, but I can't put them together in the right order in my translator. So I am waiting on a translation from my friend.

The fourth one I am taking is a nasal spray for my sinuses. And I have no idea what might be in it.

All that to say...getting things translated first is probably a better idea. I actually trust the doctors here more so than ones in America because they have a long history of medicine and lean toward more "traditional" remedies and less on satisfying the drug companies. However, it is good to know what you're getting into first regardless of where you get your prescriptions filled.

A Visit to the E.N.T. Doctor

Today I celebrated my remaining month by finally going to see a "real" doctor about a recurring problem I have had for the past couple years. Actually, I went to a doctor in Xinzheng last year about the pain and pressure I was having in my ears along with the fire burning in my throat. He cleared out my ears of the excess wax that had built up via suction and a long skinny tube. Then he asked me a few questions about my emotional health and how well I slept usually. Then he told me that my issue was emotions, prescribed some drugs to help with everything, and sent me on my way. One year later (last week), loud noises still bothering me, crinkling plastic sounds in my ears from time to time, and pain and pressure still a problem, I contacted my friend in Zhengzhou and went to see an E.N.T. doctor. I have been lifting up this visit all week. I really wanted him to be knowledgeable and have good questions to ask, and give me the time needed to figure out the problem. Thankfully a lot of my previous research looking for ways to self-help proved useful. I was able to ask intelligent questions and share what I had already tried.

Visits to the doctor here are mostly paid by the government, so you usually pay a nominal 5RMB fee. The tests, however, can be costly, and the medicine is expensive. But if you can afford nothing else, you can at least see a professional and have him diagnose your condition. I didn't pay for the doctor's visit today because my friend's coworker recommended her dad as the doctor I should see. So we bypassed that part of the process and went directly to Dr. Tian himself looking like doctors of old look with the round metal disc fixed on a band around his head. I sat in what looked like a dentist's chair, and my friend translated as we dialogued about my condition. Dr. Tian looked into both ears, both nostrils and down my throat. Aside from the teeth cleaning I had the other day, this is probably the most contact I have had with any Chinese doctor. They tend to be more hands off.

At first he thought I might have some kind of issue with the inner ear, so he sent us to pay for the two tests he wanted done. Down we went to the first floor, paid the fees (about $20USD) and went back up to the fourth floor and a testing room. The man put a type of scope into my ear, which I actually got to watch. (Pretty cool!) He took pictures and then printed out the test results for me to take back to the doctor. The second test, in a different room, reminded me of sonar. The woman put a device into my ear which played a sound and somehow recorded my ability to receive the sound. All in all, both tests results were normal. This led the doctor to believe that there is some problem with the valve that opens into the tube that empties into my mouth. (I have long believed this to be an issue from a couple articles I read about people who swim and/or fly a lot.) He showed me how to push air out of my ears by plugging my nose and also by pushing my hands on to my ears, like a suction cup, and pulling off quickly. (I read about both these methods online.) He also prescribed me some medications to deal with my congestion and the inflammation in my ears.

So...about $60 lighter (which will be reimbursed thanks to my medical insurance here), $70 if you count all the taxi rides I took today, it feels like a profitable day. I have become more cultured and feel like some of my issues, at least, have been resolved for the moment.

One Month Marker

Inevitably the last leg of this three year race is filled with all kinds of activity. And my heart is in a bit of a whirl trying to sort through my emotions and hold tight to all the valuable things I have learned in my time here. I actually feel a bit of an ache inside, so forgive me if I start crying while writing (though I suppose you wouldn't know if I did...)

Two weeks ago we got volu-told to do the "Mamma Mia" dance (from Culture Week last October) for the Annual Women's Symposium, which was last weekend. I am sure our founder/chairman requested it specifically since there is no other way they would have sought us out and/or allowed us to dance otherwise. (He likes the musical.) Culture Week is one thing; a professional event like the Symposium is another. We are not professional dancers, nor do we have the time to perfect a 3-minute dance with only a week's notice. When the email went out, we actually agreed to do it willingly. However, the information they gave us ended up being incorrect - we were told the event was taking place in the morning. It ended up being at night. Many of us had commitments for our own foreign event, a talent show, and so we told them that we couldn't perform after all...which meant that we wouldn't be in the program. Most of us heaved a sigh of relief and joked about how they would react. Well, the joke ended up being on us, truly. Someone higher up called the someone lower down and got our long planned event moved to this weekend. I still have mixed feelings about this.

So tonight was our own show, "Laowai Got Talent."(Laowai means "foreigner.") I have mixed feelings about this too. I felt a bit juvenile performing, and I was reminded of how despite the fact that I have extroverted tendencies, I am an introvert by nature. I don't really love performing, and there were so many young people performing (children and teenagers). The older crowd did more pre-recorded stuff. I didn't actually sign myself up - one of the people coordinating it asked me if I would dress up like Dorothy and sing a Sias remake version of "Over the Rainbow" which ended up being a sad song about leaving Sias. So I pre-recorded an acoustic track of the song that I could sing to and played it over and over and over again. Between that and the "Happy" song by Pharrell Williams (played in our show tonight) which are playing on repeat in my head right now, I don't know how I am going to sleep tonight.

In truth, I've been putting off thinking about leaving for months. I know I am leaving, but I can't really grieve yet. Life is still moving along as it normally does here. And tonight is just another night in Peter Hall happenings. Through yet another performance, I find that despite my best efforts to conquer my stage fright, I still have it. Doing well isn't really the issue, though it once was. I can't actually pin it down. It is probably leaving. I know I left my young brother in a bit of a cloud of confusion at the dinner table as I babbled on and on about this and that, trying to expend my nervous energy before our show. And though he was trying to be supportive, all I could do was continue to babble, ignore his efforts to encourage me, and throw rolled up napkins at him. I found it amusing - he forgave me later even if he still doesn't understand me.

In the midst of this all, I have had students and friends visiting; I've substituted; I've been a part of a scholarship panel; I've had meetings; and I've baked bread and made strawberry shortcake. Last weekend, we also had our final bake sale of the year. I made some sourdough bread for the auction and tried out the plum version of the shortcake recipe I have. In the end I also went with strawberries because so many people love those. I came home to a ridiculous amount of dishes and a crazy desire to sleep, but I am happy to have supported orphans once again. And I am thankful that a student came over the next day and helped eat most of the goodies I bought! She got introduced to culture and I didn't have to eat all those calories by myself...a win-win.

This coming Monday night I am helping one of the Peter Hall high school students perform "Rolling in the Deep" by Adele for a Children's Day performance. I will be playing guitar and singing back up vocals. On Tuesday I will be a part of another scholarship panel, this time for Needy Students. I feel a little more prepared for this, however, from my last experience. To top off all the madness, this weekend is homecoming and graduation, two of the biggest events in the school year - it's also our 15 Year Anniversary. Did I mention I am woefully behind on my hours for work...? Thankfully I have tomorrow to catch up a little and try to map out what all needs to be done before I board that plane back to America. Time is going to move too quickly.

Lost in Translation

A Chinese brother contacted me today through WeChat (WeiXin), a text messaging program. In a very Western way (because they rarely ask "how are you?" in China), he asked me how I was. I responded with "A little sore, but ok!" and some other conversation starters. Several messages later he asked, "Hi, sister, do you want some watermelon juice? It will be well for your sore. I can carry you some." My internet blipped out about that time, so I sent him a text message through my cell phone and arranged to meet him. I was honestly surprised that watermelon could be good for sore muscles! But then, there are many remedies in China that amaze me.

So I met with him in our lobby area, and he not only handed me the watermelon juice but also a small bag of snacks (which included a bar of Dove dark chocolate that I found later). At that point, he asked me what the meaning of the word "sore" is. I looked at him, my eyes wide in wonder, and explained that I was talking about my muscles. He showed me his translation of the word and told me that he thought I was sore in my heart! The watermelon juice and snacks were to help make me feel better. I, of course, thanked him for his sweetness and for being such a thoughtful brother, taking care of his sister.

While the definition of the word "sore" may have been lost in translation, the goodness of his heart was not. I am blessed to have such friends.

It's a Good Pain

A friend of mine didn't think this sounded very encouraging when I told him about massage therapy here. His idea of a massage is one that is relaxing and comforting. While that is probably nice, I favor the one that actually tries to work out the knots and find the troubles and help your body to heal. And the truth of this kind of treatment is that it hurts. But through it you learn to relax, even in the pain, and you learn how to communicate with the trained masseuse even if you don't know the language.

I like that therapy here is a combination of massage and chiropractic. They are incredibly skilled at finding the areas that hurt and working on them before realigning your back and neck. The whole process is quite different than chiropractic in the States - you usually don't find many in the States who will incorporate massage, and they tend to do all their work while you're lying on the table. In China you lay face down for the massage and some of the adjustments, but for the bulk of the next adjustments, you usually sit on a chair. The therapist cradles your head in his arms while he twists your neck and pull your head upwards. I confess that it looks a little scary, and most foreigners want to opt out of this part of the treatment. The key is to relax. The other is to trust. They really do know what they're doing.

Thankfully treatment is very affordable. For a thirty minute massage and adjustment it costs around 30RMB (5USD). I am very grateful for good pain.

Sights of Summer

Spring lasted a glorious 8 weeks this year! The last two springs have been noticeably shorter, starting later and ending sooner. But this year it started exactly when one would wish for it. It is quite a spectacle at the campus because someone planted different flowers that would bloom in different parts of spring so there is always some splash of color throughout the season. We started with these yellow flowers (that actually start blooming at the end of winter), ornamental cherry trees and tulip trees and then moved on to lilacs. Then there were some other kind of flowers that I don't know and irises, and we ended with roses, which are still in bloom and a sure sign of summer's entrance.

Swallows dart here and there, kamikaze in their flight patterns looking almost more erratic than the bats which will appear soon. Gnats and flies and mosquitoes have returned (which I am not as delighted about). And the temperatures have risen to the 80's and 90's in the daytime (99 today) with lows in the mid 70's at night. The humidity helps keep everything feeling a lot warmer than it would otherwise, but the winds have given us clearer skies, and we've had more than a day or two of blue with white clouds (my favorite kind of day). Students have summer fever (which is really more problematic than spring fever), which the lack of air conditioning in most classrooms exacerbates. (I still have visions of the students I proctored for last year in June sitting in a 90-something degree classroom trying to take a final examination. I could barely think - I wondered how they could.)

After May holiday, or Labor Day (at the beginning of the month), students came back wearing less clothes, ready to welcome in the warmer weather. (Ironically, we had a 60 degree day with rain not long after the holiday - thankfully it was only one day, otherwise some students would have been in trouble.) Foreigners have long been wearing flip flops and shorts. I have held on to long sleeves as long as I could, though I have definitely appreciated wearing fewer layers. Soon there will be outdoor BBQs and street food vendors will stay out until midnight. And I have a month left to enjoy it all!

Scholarship Fund Panel

Tonight I got another insight into true financial poverty. I interviewed students whose family's annual income is about what I make in one month. Granted, they don't have to go back to America where the cost of living is so much higher, but they do have very real medical issues and very real tuition bills. A year at Sias costs 14,000RMB. That price does not include housing, food, transportation, books, clothing and other supplies. Students borrow money from relatives; others take out loans; and some just manage to pay for tuition while working multiple jobs and going to school full time. They do all this with the hope of making a better life for themselves and being able to take care of their families.

Something else became really clear to me tonight: the Chinese want boys because boys take care of the parents. If you have only girls, they will leave to live with their husbands and take care of his parents. But if you have a son, he will stay and bring his wife into your house and take care of you when you are too old to take care of yourself. So many students talked about aging parents, more specifically fathers, who were taking care of the ailing grandparents. They feel a keen sense of responsibility to repay any debt to their family and anyone else who has helped them along the way.

One young man suffered from a type of dwarfism (he was 20 but looked 14), and another lost his mother to cancer last week. Some smiled cheerfully as they expressed the hope they had for the future despite their obvious difficulties. And others looked like they were about to cry as they shared the challenges they have faced and continue to suffer through. You can't help but reflect a little on your own position in life and see how rich you are and yet how poor you are at the same time. And you look at these students who are grabbing at every opportunity to change their situation, even at a somewhat mediocre 3,000RMB one-time scholarship, and you are humbled.

45 Days

I really should wait until there are only 40 days left to write this post, because it would make it that much more symbolic or poetic or both. Alas, I don't know if I will want to write or have time to write 5 days from now. I guess there is a little symbolism in 45 days. Right now I feel pretty okay. After 40 days and nights in the ark, I am sure Noah's family felt more than a little thankful when the rain stopped. And I feel certain that there is going to be a lot of rain falling from my eyes in the days to come.

And yet I wonder about that. I really have disengaged myself from the outside culture this year. I haven't done it intentionally or even very consciously. It just happened. I haven't tried to expand my understanding of China or learn more language at all. I haven't made new friends. And I haven't really pursued relationships with students. Within my foreign bubble, I have eaten fewer meals in Peter Hall and focused more on pre-established relationships than new ones. So...I guess I am trying to let go?

Part of it might be because my job shifted somewhat this year. I went from working 18 hours in a classroom to 10, and from working only on teaching related stuff to also working on administrative stuff. For the introverted side of my personality, it has been a welcome change. I am not nearly as exhausted at the end of my work week when I once interacted with 250 or so students (not to mention the 120+ foreigners in my apartment building). Now I have about 130 students. And I spend more time working with one or two of the oral English leaders. (Being in leadership has naturally had an effect on potential relationships.) Once again, work has somewhat redirected my focus and taken me away from other "upworthy" causes. I don't feel guilty because I believe and know that Dad uses all things for good and that I have served in other ways, within the foreign community, even if it isn't the same way I had done in the past or thought I came to do initially.

So I guess you could say that I have somewhat unknowingly kept myself from strengthening any roots or forming new ones. And while I don't feel very much right now, the reality of June is going to settle into my heart and mind at some point. I just hope it isn't the last week I am here.

"Squatties" in the Dark

There's just something special about walking into a dimly lit, run down university bathroom at night. Add flip flops to the experience and it's even more memorable. As I hovered over the squatty, I could see my own urine splashing back onto the floor in front of me like gently falling rain drops. I am sure there is some physics formula that can account for the proximity of the source of liquid plus the speed at which the liquid is being dispelled, factoring in the force of gravity and the wonderful deflecting qualities of glazed porcelain that explains how and why it goes everywhere. And yes, after all that verbiage, you're remembering my flip flops. Everything was lightly sprinkled. And before I was too disgusted (because, truthfully, I have had much worse bathroom experiences in China), I remembered that the Chinese don't think urine is a problem in any way. In fact, they believe it is sterile. Maybe, just maybe, a squatty is more hygienic than a western toilet...and I am sure somewhere someone has done a study on just that.

When Google Translate Fails

Google Chrome is a wonderful browser to use in China when it works. And, actually, I should restate that: "Chrome is a wonderful browser at Sias when it works." Though in all fairness, Chinese websites load at almost lightning speed. Google, because of its very free ideas, is not on China's good list, and so it often gets delayed trying to jump over the "great wall." And, thus, the translate feature does not work.

And that is all important because of another issue. For some reason I thought I was already running Windows 8.1. I felt certain that I would have updated to that when I was in America this past winter. But I kept seeing opportunities to upgrade for free, and I finally investigated. I should have responded as I would have to almost every other abnormally large update (this one is over 3.5gb) and delayed the inevitable until it was inevitable. I did not. I was trusting, and now I am back in the learning curve of Windows 8 newbies and am also having to reload drivers.

The main driver that I am missing at this moment is for my inkjet printer. I started my search for it using baidu (China's version of Google) and had little success until I remembered that I had used the Chinese Canon website just two months ago (having not found the driver on the U.S. website), and Chrome was able to navigate me successfully through all the language. And what a perfect solution to a problem such as this when Chrome, being Chrome in China (or in Sias), could not translate. Knowing the driver was buried somewhere in the website, I copied and pasted text into Google Translate on a separate web page. It was laborious, but I finally got to the last page, the one where you have several drop down menus and have to choose the type of product, model name and number, and file. And then, just as I was picking and choosing and trying different options (since you can't select text on the drop down menus - or, at least, I don't know how), wouldn't you know it? Chrome translator started to work. I give thanks to Dad for that one. Strange that I never thought to ask Him to help out, but He provided just the same.

30 minutes later: driver installed; items printed; happy me.

Spring Cleaning

This is the first year that I've lived here at Peter Hall that anyone has organized a community rummage sale. We have had thrift store type rummage sales - people have donated stuff they couldn't sell and then we have used the profits to support needy students. But why no one thought up this brilliant plan before, I don't know. It is a great way to clean house! And it is also a great way to earn some money. In my case, it is a great way to prepare to move. And while selling things wasn't really emotional, as it was just three years ago when I was preparing to come to China, I know that leaving people at the end of June will more than make up for any lack of feeling today.

I have to say, though, that I have had feelings about these sales. And they have mainly come in the form of selling things as a fundraiser for the needy students. Granted, not all the stuff we have had to sell has been of the highest quality, but we have had many nice things. And while the teachers living in Peter Hall and even students have had no trouble paying our very low prices, some of the workers here and many parent aged types have gone into the cultural mode of haggling to embarrassingly low prices. And it has upset me. A lot. I know they see it completely differently than I do. (They haggle as shoppers, and used items have less value than new stuff regardless of how good of condition it is in. Plus they want to joy of making a very good purchase.) So I have tried to educate them a little. I have had people explain in Chinese what the purpose of the sale is, but they have still haggled to the point of my own despair. During the last sale I actually refused to sell things to a couple people and, in the most forced calm manner I could produce, I asked them to leave. Not good. So this time, when I was asked about selling goods again for the needy students, I very firmly declined. I have found my limit.

It is probably a good illustration of generational culture. And every people group has it. I can't wait for a time when there will be only one culture, and there will be one center of attention. There is a lot of clean up to do before then. Even so, come...come.

The Chinese "Thesis" Paper

Last season I waded through two 5,000+ word research papers, both on completely different topics. Little did I know then that I wasn't only helping my friends, but I was also preparing myself to enter into a career of editing. Though, if I really look back on the past ten years, I have long been gaining experience in this arena. But I digress.

Seniors here do not have classes their last semester. Many find internships or jobs and/or study for their final tests. Each senior is required to write a research paper which is referred to as a "thesis." The topic is open and does not have to relate to their major. While I find this strange, I actually think it encourages creativity and individuality and makes total plagiarism much harder. (I am sure if I think longer about it, I will see all the ways in which plagiarism could be used to write the entire paper. But I digress again.) Seniors work with a teacher through the process, first getting approval for their topic, then getting feedback on it in its various stages of development.

At this point, students have about one month left to finish, and this is about the time they start looking for editors. What you have to keep in mind is that the students I am working with are writing in a second language. Much of what they are trying to express is being translated from resources and from their minds into English from Chinese. So you can imagine the interesting word choices and idioms that get used. There is a lot of dialogue that happens after the first read through about actual meaning, and I have enjoyed being a living thesaurus, though I used an actual dictionary and thesaurus more than once.

About three pages into the paper, though I was really focused on editing, I did try to think about what she must be thinking and feeling. I mean, she started learning English long before I could even verbally put one sentence together in another language, and she has been working for years to master English in its various forms. This paper should help showcase that, and in every way she has tried to successfully express her intelligent self both linguistically and stylistically. With this mindset, she brought her long labored over paper to me, a true wizard in comparison, to watch it get cut up before her eyes and not only worked steadily to understand and fix my edits, but also never sighed or complained!

I would like to take three lessons from this:
1) I want to never be so emotionally invested in future papers that I can't do the same thing without sighing, crying or complaining.
2) I will try to always look at criticism from a professional or aspiring professional as constructive - the sole intent of the editor is to help me improve, not to cut me down as a person. (I reserve the right to be discerning, of course.)
3) I will try to always be positive, affirming and empathetic as an editor.

Thankfully, we are friends. And my investment of time shows her that I love her and want her to succeed. Amusingly, she confessed that she did not want to bring me her paper. A fellow classmate told her that she was very brave to bring it to me. The last time she took it to her teacher, he told her that she had so many grammar mistakes that she needed help... at that point, she could not put it off any longer and asked to meet this afternoon. And, so, almost 6 hours later (with a meeting, a dinner break and a short walk in between), we finished the first round of editing. And while I am extremely tired, I feel very satisfied.

Smells Like...

Pesticide. Well, that's what my friend and I thought it was as we walked 10 minutes out to the north part of campus for our first round of observations at 8:00 this morning. It was sickeningly pervasive, a formless cloud of toxic air engulfing our school and, apparently, a part of the city. And even after a breeze came late in the morning and blew most of it away outside, it lingered inside classroom buildings and Peter Hall. 

A gas line broke somewhere - at least that's what one colleague told me. And it must have been a big gas line for it to have such an effect. By the time we got to our destination this morning, I felt sick in my stomach and my lungs burned slightly. I was thankful that most of it was gone by the time we headed toward the east part of campus for our second round of observations at 10:00AM.

I reflected a little about how we would handle something like this in the West, and I feel pretty confident that warnings would have gone out. People would have been encouraged to stay indoors, and schools may have even canceled classes. Undoubtedly, someone would have sued the gas company and those responsible for the tremendous leak, claiming terrible health related issues as the reason. But not here. Common sense dictates a lot of things here, and people cannot draw up law suits as easily, though I have always perceived that there is an attitude of "bearing all things" in this culture. This may be attributed in part to people feeling a lack of power, because they really don't have any - so why fight if you can't win? Another may be attributed to their overwhelming desire to thrive. Students put themselves through an incredible amount of stress to just get into college. And if they don't score well on the college entrance exam (compared to all the other students in their province), they end up paying a lot to go to college, which many really cannot afford. They and their families sacrifice so much to even have the opportunity to build a better life. In the West, we are demanding it as our right. So what's a little gas or smoke, for that matter, when the future is weighing in the balance? 

Bittersweet

Facebook is definitely a blessing living so far away from the life that I knew, and I've been able to keep up with so many life events of friends from around the world. And while most posts are usually cheerful, there are some which make you cry. And there isn't a whole lot you can do about it but cry and look for comfort from a very faithful Friend.

Since I've lived in China, I've mourned the deaths of several people who were too far away to say goodbye to. One includes an incredible Chilean woman who died about a year ago from the side effects of chemo therapy. And the most recent is a childhood friend of mine who I always liked. She was the type of person in our early adult years that I would run into at various shops around the city we grew up in and stand and talk and catch up while the rest of the world went about its business. Meanwhile, we were probably running late for something somewhere. As children, we played softball together. As classmates, we talked. And though we were never best friends, I knew she was a real friend, and I am grateful for the friendship we shared.

When these things happen, it seems natural to want to be there, to once again touch the memory of a life that was a part of your life, to verify that it is really true that they are gone, and to help comfort those whose hearts hurt so much more than your own. I am thankful that I have a Father whose arms are long and who can comfort so much more than I ever could.

The Little (And Not So Little) Things

I've been back at Sias now for a little over a week, and overall life has moved along as I expected. Shops have started opening again. Students have been returning. And even the weather has been getting warmer. Teachers have returned and work has resumed, albeit slowly and perhaps a little bit grudgingly. It's hard to come back to winter when you've been in summer and sunshine for 6 weeks.

I found a couple surprises coming back to my apartment including a wooden fan that some small insect feasted on, a plant that is almost dead, and a kombucha culture that is dead. Fortunately, the fan is still intact, the plant may recover, and my friend is also brewing kombucha, so I can get another culture.

Internet speed is something I've resolved will always be an issue. Though someone announced that the bandwidth is supposed to be increasing in the near future, I am somewhat cynical - I will believe it when I am streaming Hulu videos with more than a few pauses. Today I battled the copier at the front desk, but that isn't surprising; the copier usually rebels in some way if you try to make more than 20 copies at one time, especially if you want it to print double sided. But I did finally get my 140 double sided pages printed even if it took 45 minutes.

Perhaps the biggest trial the residents of Peter Hall will deal with this week is the lack of hot water. The engineers here changed the location of the boiler from the nearest boiler on the east side of the campus to another one on the west side. And, according to another teacher who seems knowledgeable on such matters, the people who set up the system don't know how to flush a line. And so the line is cold, essentially, when the hot water turns on, and it takes a very long time for it to ever get warm. This morning the water coming out of my shower was slightly warmer than the air, which right now flows around 68 degrees Fahrenheit. I've been told that it should get warmer when more students are here using it... The thought of sharing hot water with the entire population of west campus does not evoke much confidence in this new system. (We have 25,000 people on campus.) And I wonder if our hot water hours have been changed to match the time students get hot water. Before yesterday, we could expect hot water from 6:00AM-9:00AM and 6:00PM-11:00PM. Students get hot water until 8:00AM in the morning and 10:00PM at night.

I am thankful, regardless of these issues, to be working again and spending time with people I've missed during the holiday. And even if the hot water issue isn't resolved soon, I have friends with hot water heaters and, beyond this, I have a hot plate and a big pot, and I can take a bucket shower.

The Light Situation

I was lying in bed this morning, half awake, thinking about the work I needed to do today, half wondering why it was so dark until 8:00AM and when I was finally going to push myself out of the comfort of warm flannel sheets and use the bathroom. Somewhere in my indecision, having held it for probably thirty minutes or so, I heard someone knocking at my front door. Still groggy, I threw back the covers and called out, "Who is it?" but heard nothing in reply. Knocking came again, and as I was putting on a sweater, I again called out, "Who is it?" and, again, heard nothing in reply. Had I opened the door right at that moment, I may have seen a raven swoop in, light on my dimly lit chandelier and crack open his beak to say "nevermore," but I was awake enough by the second knock to realize that the person on the other side did not speak English. And while in Poe's world there would have been a raven, in mine there was a repairman, more specifically the light bulb repairman, with his makeshift ladder and an iPad sized box in hand. He said something to me, but it was in Chinese and I didn't recognize any words so I reached for the box he held up. It was the light for my bathroom which had been out since sometime early in November. 

He had actually come to fix my light situation two days ago, the afternoon when I first arrived back at Sias, but he didn't know about all my issues. While I had told my friend at the front desk that I specifically needed my bathroom light fixed, she only heard the word "light." So the repairman came with the same makeshift ladder and bulbs in hand not long after the water repairman, who had come to turn on my water which had been shut off while I was gone for the long holiday. They worked together to find the valves (at one point the water repairman was pointing to the vinyl tile covering the hole cut out specifically for the kitchen vent, which will never be installed) and had quite a lengthy discussion about it until discovering it in small corner of the bathroom which has been aesthetically covered with tile. As I heard the sound of water pushing its way out of the faucets, I kept happily repeating, "hao" or "good" and smiled in appreciation. The light bulb repairman, meanwhile, started replacing my canned lighting with energy efficient, annoyingly bright bulbs. At least these bulbs should shine longer than the 2-month and 6-month version bulbs...which is another matter of electricity and wiring and circuitry all together - or so I have been told. 

After replacing the bulbs in the front room, I showed him the light in my bathroom, which is what I thought I had told the front desk girl needed fixing, as well as the now four burnt out bulbs in my chandelier, three of which have been burnt out since spring semester last year and another one which recently gave up its last lumen. I can't remember how many times over the last semester I had taken broken light bulbs to the front desk and asked for replacements - for some reason they won't give you new light bulbs without the old ones in exchange - and been told, "mei-you" (may-yo) or "don't have." Occasionally they did have the canned light bulbs; but until this morning, never ones for the chandelier. 

This is probably the best time for repairs - not everyone has returned, so they come pretty quickly to fix your problems. But the key to having repairs done, even something seemingly as simple as light bulb replacement, is persistence. One of our leaders always says, "the squeaky wheel gets the oil." If you don't ask, and keep asking, you will never receive, and you may live in shadows and darkness longer than needed.