December Recap, Part 3: On Site-Seeing in Beijing

What an unforgettable weekend in Beijing. I was able to shift some classes around, enabling Joann and I to leave Thursday night (17th) and return Monday morning (21st). We rode overnight trains, sleeping on a surprisingly comfy bed and sharing a room with four strangers. It was a 9 ½ hour train ride, which felt short since we slept through nearly all of it.

There is so much to see in Beijing. To ensure we saw all the biggies, we went through a travel agent, one referred to me by one of my students. So we paid a bit more, but also got to see more and enjoyed luxuries such as a private tour guide, a private driver, some high-end meals, a nice hotel with access to good food and drink, and the peace of mind knowing we were taken care of and didn’t have to worry about coordinating it all.

As for pictures, I’ll defer to Joann’s facebook page until I post some: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?page=4&aid=132227&id=755290097. (hopefully the link works). She’s got loads of great shots of our trip to Beijing, plus assorted pics of the Christmas season. So many great scenes, such as…

TIANANMEN SQUARE. It’s huge—the largest city square in the world, in fact. Visually stunning, and made more so by what felt like perfect lighting during our morning visit (the weather was actually clear blue throughout the weekend—just bitterly cold). Great picture of Chairman Mao draped over a wall on one side of the square. I don’t believe America has a figure in its history so venerated today as Mao is in China; none of the Rushmore presidents compare. Spectacular buildings all around the Square built in the classical Chinese style—a style more and more rare in China in light of the country's increasing modernization. And it’s fascinating to consider not only the number of meetings but the attendance at such meetings in this square (been around for nearly 700 years). It’s also a reminder of the we-don’t-talk-about-it-here event of 1989, so famous around the world but so hush-hush among the Chinese.

THE FORBIDDEN CITY. Former palace of the emperor from around 1400 (Ming dynasty) until the early 1900s when China when through a lot of turmoil leading up to the establishment of modern China in 1949. Interestingly, if I understand this correctly, Chairman Mao and others early on in the Cultural Revolution wanted to destroy the palace, I assume as means of distancing themselves from all things ancient and welcoming in a new era. I’m glad they didn’t; the country has preserved the site well. It’s probably the quintessential display of traditional Chinese architecture, and it’s massive—7,800,000 sq ft—with an array of palaces, temples, halls, rooms, gardens, and courtyards with statues.

HUTONG. This was a neighborhood not far from the Forbidden City we observed via a rickshaw ride. It’s a preserved ancient neighborhood, special not because of its grandness but because of its simple, quaint style of small homes and windy alley-like roads. I think its impact was made more potent by seeing it immediately after The Forbidden City.

THE GREAT WALL. Without a doubt the crown jewel of our weekend in Beijing. I hate to dismiss the glory and beauty of the palaces and temples we saw, but the Wall just wins. You’ve likely all seen pictures, so you get the idea—it’s a really big wall. It stretches 5,500 miles along what was once China’s northern border, and was built and rebuilt between the 5th century BC and the 16th century. I walked along the wall (even jogged and ran stairs at one point—I had to) in awe. In awe of the beauty of the surrounding mountains and segments of the wall that could be seen on peaks miles away. In awe of the amount of human effort that went into creating the wall again and again (and the lives lost in process—supposedly there are workers buried in the wall). In awe of the scope of history that is experienced when encountering something so ancient, something that sweeps one back in time far before iPods, TVs, cars, before America was even a dream in any young explorer’s heart, even before God had done the unthinkable and made Himself known in the midst of human history in a way God had done not before and has not done since. It is old. I guess I’m fascinated by old things. As I walked along this massive structure, with its stories of wars and kings and commoners and with all its grandeur and beauty, I hardly said a word. Ask Joann.

SILK AND JADE FACTORIES. A bit anti-climactic for me, but interesting nonetheless. We were guided step-by-step through the process of making silk blankets from cocoon to final product. Interesting, I suppose, considering silk was first developed in China, centuries before even the Great Wall was built. And jade...well…similar thoughts here to my feelings about silk. Jade is a gorgeous stone, and it was neat to observe some very elaborate jade artwork in the stone’s land of origin.

MING TOMBS. Another profound stop on our journey through ancient China. Another palace-like setting with gardens and grand pathways and statues and ancient halls—but for the dead, not the living. On Saturday, when we visited both the Wall and these tombs, we toured with a group—an Irish guy with his Mongolian girlfriend, a South African, and a Chinese guy who grew up in South Africa. They all had a good sense of humor, which made the day even more enjoyable.

KUNG FU SHOW. Joann and I watched a fascinating performance, a blend of theater and martial arts. The plot followed a young boy’s journey of becoming and mastering Kung Fu and finding peace and gaining wisdom, told in dramatic fashion with what were clearly very talented actors. Or, more accurately, kung fu masters. You can’t “act” like you know kung fu and pull of their stunts and level of choreography. They were genuinely gifted individuals who’ve probably been training their whole lives.

TEMPLE OF HEAVEN. The Temple of Heaven is an ancient series of Taoist temples, frequented by past emperors of China. Something about the layout and structures within the temple grounds felt different than that of the Forbidden City, despite looking similar in its “Chinese-ness.” It was constructed to be a holy place, and that’s what it felt like—holy. It was interesting to walk through the surrounding park and watch people engaged in their morning exercises and games and lively conversations, then move to the quiet, open courtyard areas and see the spectacular structures inside designed less to honor the emperor and more to move to prayer.

SUMMER PALACE. I visited so many wonderful places in Beijing that I could have easily gotten used to what I was seeing and grown bored or indifferent. But it didn’t get old. The Summer Palace was yet another fascinating sight, a massive summer retreat center for royalty in ancient times, with far-reaching and beautiful gardens, a lake (frozen, allowing Joann and I to walk around on it), numerous pagodas and corridors and palaces all obviously crafted with a level of artistry and craftsmanship and time and effort not often seen in the modern world. It was essentially our last stop of the weekend, and a fitting finale. I’d love to spend a month there, walking, reflecting, reading, writing…watching. Maybe if I’m king someday I’ll have such a privilege.

We also enjoyed a visit to a large pearl market where we did some buying and bargaining, a drive by the "Bird's Nest" (site of the '08 Olympics), a tea-tasting at a tea shop (liking tea more and more as time goes by), and a new friendship with Lucy, our tour guide for two of the three days. Lucy is our age and gives such tours frequently. The three of us shared some good meals and conversations and laughed a lot together. And we told her (at her request) we’d try to find an American young man for her to marry. She also, upon discovering my degree, asked me a lot about who Jesus was/is, to which I gave my opinion...which is always fun for me (giving my opinion about Jesus’ significance, not giving my opinions in general…well probably both, to be fair…bloggers tend to like to be heard).

An epic weekend, not only a China highlight but a life highlight.

December Recap, Part 2: On Being a Proud Papa

I am grateful for the way my class schedule played out this term. I have the same amount of hours as the other foreign teachers, but far less students. Some of the others teach up to 5-6 different cohorts and between 200-300 students. But I only have two cohorts—a group of 17 sophomores (Keyboarding/Word Processing) and a group of 25 freshmen (Oral English). Since there are so many means of connecting with students outside of class, the potential downside of a “smaller sphere of influence” or limited opportunities for connection is lessened, especially considering the upside—being able to invest more deeply in these students, both relationally and educationally. I believe our sense of community has allowed me to better meet their needs as a teacher and friend.

I cherish my sophomore class, but they are a divided people—clashing personalities and petty conflicts that make them a more difficult bunch to teach. Fortunately I do have some strong relationships with several individuals in that class. But my freshmen just gel together, and I’m not completely sure what to attribute this to. Maybe luck, maybe Providence, maybe the school, maybe me. But several things happened recently with these freshman students that will make leaving after this year very difficult.

We had a dinner party at my place last weekend, attended by nearly the entire class. I gave them some money to shop for all the food they would need. They came over around 4pm and cooked for about three hours. They had a great system going, and were a blast to watch. Some were chopping vegetables, some cooking, while others were hanging in the main room with Joann and I, chatting and listening to music. Those who didn’t cook had clean-up duty. They prepared about 18-20 dishes for all of us to share—a massive meal. And they were all so delighted; you could tell many of them loved to cook, but don’t have the facilities to do so in their dorms. I gave them the gift of a kitchen; they gave me the gift of a delicious meal.

But they came bearing gifts as well. I had given them all apples in class the previous week (true to the previously mentioned local Christmas tradition), but they far exceeded my gift-giving. They brought several items: a very nice framed cross-stitch picture of a tree, and a sort-of red, decorative wall ornament that looks like a giant, fancy pot-holder. They also gave me package which I was not allowed to open until the end of the night.

So after a great meal and good conversation and plenty of silliness, when it was time to say farewell for the evening, we went up through the attic of my apartment building and climbed out on the balcony, where we opened the present. It was essentially a miniature, heart-shaped hot air balloon. A student lit the wick, and after about a minute the balloon (made of paper) had enough air pressure that it lifted off the ground.

As we watched this bright red heart float away, my students were screaming with cheer and excitement, telling Joann and I the heart was both a symbol of the love between her and I, and a symbol of my students’ love for me. I think that night was the first time they’d actually used the word love this term. We cheered and watched for about two minutes until the light started to flicker and fade out.

But the most touching gift of the evening was a card, signed by all the students, with a lengthy message that made me stop a couple times, nearly producing tears but stopping short at watery eyes. I share the note here in its unedited form:

-----
“Dear Matt,

“Happy New Year, and best wish to you! We are really so lucky to have such a good teacher. And we don’t know how to use those simple words to express our gratitude. Maybe a word “good” is far away to express how we love you. It’s really thoughtable. In a word, you are the number one in our heart.

“We love you, because you always do your best to make the boring classes more interesting; we love you, because you always keep smile and have patience with us even if we are absence of our mind; we love you, because you always stand by our side and think what we think; we love you, because you are willing to share your happiness time with us; we love you, because you are always concerned with our feeling, and you are like a sun, driving away all of the cloud in our mind; we love you, because you love us…

“We are thankful for your love not required to be earned, and thankful for you’ve done for us.

“It’s really a honor for us having this chance to meet your girlfriend—Jonna (Joann). She’s really beautiful and kind girl, and her voice is as sweet as herself. We wish the nicest things always for you, not only today, but all the year through, because we want you two happy and satisfactory!

“Finally, may warmest wishes, happy thoughts and friendly greeting come and stay with you two. May wherever you go, good luck be always with you. And we wish you two increasing happiness as the times goes by!”
-----

It’s sometimes hard to get a read on the depth of 18-20 year-olds here. In some ways, they are very young for their age, at least compared to the kind of maturity we’d expect in the U.S. from this age group. They really are just sheltered a lot more than children in the U.S., are not as naturally prone to free-thinking and are a bit less self-aware. But they occasionally surprise, as they did here. It may be that they are deeper and more thoughtful than I give them credit for, but often just can’t express themselves through the language barrier.

That’s why I think this letter, clearly well-thought-out, was so touching—it was a sort of releasing of their bound-up emotions, and really did feel like an overwhelming flood of feelings and thoughts I didn’t realize were there to so great an extent. Reading that letter in front of them all was one of the most memorable moments of my time here in China.

To cap it all off, the next night was a big school Christmas performance before hundreds of students, consisting of 14 acts of a variety of singing, dancing, and acting. My freshman and I were the only act that was an entire class of students. I played guitar as we sang “our” song—“Let My Love Open the Door," a folksy remake of an 80’s song and one I taught my class early on in the semester as a language-learning tool. After extensive memorizing, singing, and doing some simple choreography, we (along with Joann) performed. It was a hit among the audience, and a “proud papa” moment for me (as Joann would put it) as I observed their extensive preparation, enthusiasm, and ability to cherish every minute of it...not to mention the deep joy in seeing the camaraderie that has been formed among all of us from September to now.

December Recap, Part 1: On Getting My Name in the Paper

There is so much to recall that I’ll just attack various facets of this month in shorter excerpts. One memorable event was the city-wide Christmas banquet held for all the foreigners living in Xiaogan (population is around 400,000). The event was hosted by several city officials, including the mayor of Xiaogan, and attended by several locals, including President Zhang (my school) and several other school administrators.

This was a rare opportunity to meet some of the other foreigners in the city (about 40-50 or so in attendance), most of whom I’ve never seen, though I think I recognized one gal from the dairy section of the supermarket. Some of these foreigners are teachers, either employed at another university in town or working at a secondary school. Many were businesspeople. And a good chunk of them were apparently here for some sort of military parachute training, such as Haleem from Egypt and I-can’t-remember-his-name from Bangladesh who kept calling me Michael. So I assume Xiagoan must have an exceptional training program to draw participants from such great distances. There were people from India, Africa, Russia, France, even a few Americans...all over the place, really.

The evening began rather late. There is a tendency among leaders here to show up when they show up. Maybe this is common in the U.S. and I’ve just never noticed it before. But city officials do it, and school leaders do it all the time. The event starts when they arrive, which may inconvenience those waiting, but, well…those waiting are not the honored leaders. I’m guessing it is different here, because of the depth of China’s honor culture. But it makes it hard to honor such people when you’re hungry.

The banquet was held at a fancy hotel. It was a classy meal, for sure. Lots of gourmet dishes, and great, prompt service. Within ten seconds of setting down my empty wine glass, one of the waitresses would come and refill it. Needless to say, we were all in good spirits that night.

Once the program got going, several speeches were made, by the mayor, the vice-mayor (I think that was his title), and even me. I was asked earlier in the week to prepare a short speech; the only prompt I was given was to express gratitude to the city of Xiaogan. It was quite an honor, really, as I was the only foreigner at the banquet asked to speak. Though when I read my speech to one of my classes, they giggled at all of the parts that spoke about how wonderful Xiaogan is; they obviously disagreed.

But that night I shared these Xiaogan-affirming words, talking about the experience of living in China, being away from home at Christmas, the hospitality I’ve received, and how Xiaogan has become a second home. Apparently, my comments about the city being “home” really touched the mayor, who then asked for my name and some more information about me. He later came over and introduced himself and toasted me, expressing gratitude for my kind words about his city. He was really touched. So touched, in fact, that I was told a couple days later that my name and comments about Xiaogan made the city newspaper in an article written about the evening. I sense such praise for Xiaogan is rare.

I have yet to track down the article, but that will definitely be one to save. And I meant what I said, mostly. Xiaogan would certainly not be high up on my list of places to settle down. But I do feel a connection to the city, because it has become home for me. Most of my world travels have taken me in and out of cities quickly. Even in America, I’ve not lived in any one place for more than ten months since I was a teenager. So for a transient like me, four months in a strange and different world is enough to give me a sense of connection to a place, enough to call it a sort of home, if only temporarily.

The rest of the night was a blast, aided by delicious food and good and plentiful wine. Some of my fellow foreign teachers and I prepared a Christmas medley of songs. Following this, Joann and I sang “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas,” a song we sang frequently together throughout her stay in China, so much that I think it kind of became “our song” to many here.

And then, the (what I should have recognized as) inevitable happened. The crowd, especially the mayor, wanted an encore. More specifically, they wanted Joann and I to sing “My Heart Will Go On.” Keeping my resistance internal, I agreed with a smile and proceeded to strum and sing, faking the words with Joann where we couldn’t remember them. The crowd’s response was so amusing and varied. There was one woman—probably an American—who rolled her eyes and covered her face as if to say “oh please God, no, not this song again!” I just gave her a knowing look and a shrug, and kept on singing. But several in the room, including the mayor (!) were singing right along with us. Haleem was in the back, standing up at this point, waving his hand in the air like he was at a rock concert, belting out the words with us. What an unforgettable moment. Just brilliant.

After this, the evening kind of opened up for impromptu performances. A woman from France sang a French song, a woman from Russia sang a Russian song. I accompanied my roommate Will on guitar, who did his usual (and high-quality) MJ-esque dance shtick. After the mayor visited every table (probably 70-80 in attendance) for toasts and well-wishes, all of the foreigners went up to the stage for a photo and a final farewell song. It was then that Haleem came over and told me he so badly wished he could have sung “My Heart Will Go On” with me. Actually, he wanted to sing it right then; he broke out singing it right in the middle of “Auld Lang Syne.” Hilarious and tragic. I cannot get away from that song.

Slowly catching up

Though I’ve been relatively silent in past weeks, it certainly does not reflect the actual circumstances of my life. The last two and a half weeks have been filled to the brim. With Joann’s visit (now ended), the excitement of the Christmas season and the resulting slew of banquets, performances, and parties, memorable excursions, and some precious and tender moments with my community here in Xiaogan, I would say without exaggeration that this December has been one of the most special months of my life.

Expect numerous posts, pictures, and reflections in the coming days—as soon as I catch my breath.

Wonder at a Wonder

I've walked the Great Wall of China.

It was truly surreal. So majestic a sight, so mind-blowing the amount of labor that went into its construction, so breathtaking the scene of both the wall itself and the mountain range through which it weaves, so serene the quiet morning of our visit, so nostalgic the feeling of being transported through centuries of history. So profound in its display of the creativity and capabilities of both God and man.

I will post pictures when I’m able, of both the Wall and the many other spectacular sites Joann and I visited in Beijing. But it’s the Wall that more than anything moved me, left me stunned and in awe.

Two world wonders down (visited Machu Piccu in June 2008)...five to go.

Christmas is in the air (sort of)

“Sort of” meaning that Christmas here doesn’t quite have the fanfare it would were I home in the States. No Christmas TV specials to watch, no houses decorated with Christmas lights to admire, no egg nog to be found, no visit to The Grotto this year, no family to share the season with.

But that doesn’t mean there are hints of it here. I walked passed an American food restaurant (KFC-ish) today that had a couple pictures of Santa Claus posted in the windows. I was also able, after a long walking quest across Xiaogan, to find a miniature (fake) Christmas tree for my home. I’ve found lights too, and have decorated my room a bit. And in a few short hours, Joann will be here to share the holidays with me (sure to have pictures to show and plenty to say about this in the weeks ahead).

I’ve also been teaching my students Christmas songs, bringing my guitar to class occasionally and doing some sing-along’s while also explaining the English. Though, it seems that explaining the meaning of Christmas songs is much more challenging then explaining how to talk about what you did last weekend or how to describe a friend’s appearance or whatever particular English lesson we’re on that week. For example, it’s not really common speech to say “Gloria in excelsis Deo” or “don we now our gay apparel.” It becomes a lesson in Latin and in outdated words whose meanings have changed over time. Most of the students know at least the tune to Jingle Bells if not all the words, so we sing that one a lot.

But everyone knows about Christmas here and does celebrate it to some extent—though I’m still learning how extensive that awareness is. They know something about Santa Claus, and something about Jesus, but mostly I think they just have images in their mind, not stories—trees, presents, lights, snow, maybe the baby Jesus. But I’m still figuring this out.

They do have a fun Christmas tradition here involving apples. Apparently the Chinese word for “apple” is very similar to the word for “be safe” or “be at peace” or something like that. So everyone stocks up on apples just before Christmas, then gives them to their friends as a gesture of goodwill. How wonderful is that?! What a neat way to express the spirit of Christmas.

The spirit of Christmas being peace, or giving, or generosity, or togetherness? I’m not making a statement, just genuinely asking because I’m not sure what the agreed-upon way of articulating it actually is. Seems like you'd probably get different answers from different people. If we’re going theological, I suppose it has to do with self-giving, self-emptying, sacrifice, seeking peace and reconciliation, hope—all words that seek to capture the significance of God-become-man and/or what we tend to think God hoped for in entering our world. If we’re talking about our experience of the holidays year-to-year, maybe the spirit of Christmas is something like nostalgia, togetherness, thoughtfulness toward others, celebration. (Or things like consumerism or commercialism, as Charlie Brown has attempted to show us.)

Whatever that spirit is, I suppose we all know it, and maybe can’t articulate it in a word but know it when we feel it. I think it’s probably all those things for me, because it feels like Christmas when I look at lights and am reminded of childhood; when I sing “a thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices” and feel the power and richness of those words and the truth they imply; when I receive something somebody bought for me because, well, I'm human I guess and enjoy "stuff;" or when I think of how excited I am to go load up on apples for the 50 or 60 (or more) students whom I want to bless by showing them not only that they matter to me but that the distinct way in which they express such appreciation for one another matters to me as well. I think all of that probably fits into the Christmas spirit.

Also, I’ve been warned to buy my apples early, since stores mark up the price in the days leading up to Christmas. I have plenty of friends here, so plenty of apples to buy. I’m on a homemade applesauce kick lately, so maybe I’ll make this instead as my own unique twist to the tradition here.

One other awkward-turned-funny moment regarding Christmas. I was chatting with some students about my own Christmas traditions and explaining the part about going to church on Christmas Eve to remember the birth of Jesus. I asked for clarification’s sake if they knew to whom I was referring, and most of them nodded. One girl said something like “yeah, and Jesus killed…that’s Easter, right?” I nodded in affirmation, but Angel—another girl present who I know to be a Christian and whose English name truly fits her personality—responded with something like “no, not Jesus killed.” I looked at her a bit puzzled. She looked slightly nervous and uncomfortable, and then told us “at church they tell us not to say ‘Jesus killed.’”

I was so perplexed, and kept probing to understand her meaning in case I was missing something. I insisted that no, Jesus was indeed killed later in life and assured her it’s very well-documented. She kept shaking her head, seeming frustrated, but I figured mostly that she couldn’t articulate her point in English. She told us to move to another topic, and at that point I thought maybe she was hesitant to talk about her faith. But I was so confused, thinking maybe her church was preaching a different Christian story than the one I’m familiar with.

So about twenty minutes later, after the other students had left, I took Angel aside to ask her once more for clarification about what she was saying (or trying to say). Finally, clarity came. She told me that the girl in our conversation who’d said “Jesus killed” was wrong; in fact “Jesus WAS killed,” Angel said. It was an issue of grammar, not faith or historical fact. Her pastor told her to say that Jesus WAS killed, I guess to make sure that Angel didn’t preach a gospel that made Jesus out to be a murderer himself. Man, did I have a good laugh about that one. I should start making a list of all these language-related misunderstandings.