Just a few hours ago, Leslie, Chris, Lisa, and I returned to the bustling metropolis of Jishou, and it feels like we're back home. Perhaps stranger than the fact that we kept saying all morning that we were on our way home is that Jishou seems huge to us today. While all of us have been teaching our regular students, Leslie has been running 2-week long English classes for Chinese teachers with an emphasis on how to teach English creatively. Two of her students, Sarah and May, (whom some of us have guest taught on various days) insisted that their "dear teachers" come visit them at their home as soon as we had a free weekend, so off we went.
It was a great experience to be able to go. The friendliness and warmth coming from our host family was unbelievable, and, because of our trip, we were able to experience yet another part of the country. Immediately after classes ended on Friday, we boarded the daily bus, which took "3 hours" (really 4) to get to the countryside. The bus ride can almost serve as a tool to explain so much of what we've experienced in China so far.
First of all, for a country that has a One-Child Policy, somehow, everyone seems to be a relative of everyone else. By now, we know that many Chinese call close family friends aunty or uncle, just as we call our cook Aunty Tao, but everyone really does seem to be related. Because May lives further away from Jishou than Sarah does, we spent the entire weekend at Sarah's house, but May accompanied us for the bus ride to make sure we got there okay. At 12:15, May received a phone call from the bus driver, whom she later informed us was Sarah's father's cousin. Because they were relatives, the driver called us to tell us that, even though the bus wasn't leaving until 1:00, it was already almost full so we should try to get there as soon as possible. Not only did the relative connection show through in this situation, but, as we have realized with many other things, there are a lot of people in China (in case you didn't know). Schedules, lines, and times sometimes don't seem to be very important when you already have more people wanting something than you are able to give them.
We arrived at the bus station near our college without a problem and, typical of the extreme hospitality and kindness that most Chinese have shown us foreigners, the bus monitor (for no better way to describe her) had stopped loading the bus until she made sure that we arrived and had gotten 5 of our own seats. As soon as we got on, the remaining passengers piled in, doubling up on seats and sitting on plastic stools near the door, yet the entire time, people were very careful to make sure we were comfortable. Although we stick out like sore thumbs in certain situations and although we get the feeling that the prices of things rise by three times just by us walking by, as a whole, Chinese go out of their way to take care of foreigners, much more than we, in a country essentially made up of foreigners, ever do. When we took a quick bathroom stop along the bus route, the other passengers were patient in getting us back on board when we missed what must have been an obvious clue to tell everyone that we were ready to go again. Also, in contrast to my family's 20 minute pit-stops that, no matter how hard we try, never become shorter, I think our total stop lasted for literally 3 minutes. By the time I began to stand up to stretch, people were already filing back onto the bus. As Leslie put it, squatting in a row right next to 3 other people peeing into an open trough doesn't exactly encourage dilly-dallying.
Anyway, the ride was gorgeous, if not frighteningly steep and curvy. We drove up mountains that looked as though they shouldn't have been able to sustain roads. The views were indescribable, as we looked across the stepped terrain. Of course, the horn served as a soundtrack for the journey. The horn is an indispensable part of driving here, not so much because I really believe it serves any purpose, but because I think that the only requirement to getting a license must be to be able to find and press your horn every 15 seconds. People honk for everything: when there is someone in front of them, when they want to say hi, when someone is walking on the opposite side of the street, when they want to show how excited they are that there is an empty stretch of roadway in front of them that would not warrant the use of a horn. In Jishou, a place where we, as well as everyone else, often walk in the street and where cars drive right up next to buildings and restaurants to avoid potholes, honking is a regular part of everyone's daily lives. This bus ride was no different. We honked as we sped around switchback (which made sense, in a maybe-we-just-shouldn't-be-going-this-fast kind of way), but we also honked when as we drove down roads where it seemed like the bus driver was concerned that someone in a nearby house might possibly maybe be contemplating looking out their window or worse, standing 20 feet from the side of the road (better to warn them and be safe than sorry).
Anyway, as foreigners, we get a lot of special treatment and a lot of excuses. For example, when my class gave me a tour of an interesting area of Jishou last Friday as part of our more fun Friday classes, we came across a playground along our hike up Fruit and Flower Mountain. I jumped on one of the swings and my students joined me. Soon, the owner of the swings came out demanding that all of the students pay one quay for using the swings, but the foreigner didn't need to pay; it was her pleasure. Around Jishou, we get to walk down the street belting out our favorite tunes because we're just those silly foreigners. Anyway, things were no different in the countryside, if not even more extreme.
When we arrived in the central trading town, the bus let off the rest of the passengers but took us the extra half hour to one of the peripheral areas in order to drop us off directly at the house. Sarah and her family were so happy to have us. They could not get the smiles off of their faces, and they treated us too well the entire weekend. Sarah and May were gitty and chatty the entire time, and Sarah's family was wonderful. The mother looked like a traditional housewife who had spent many afternoons in the kitchen and who kept taking our hands to show us things and to give us more food. The father was stick thin, in contrast to the mother, slightly wrinkly and very tan, but equally welcoming. He toasted us from the moment we sat down for dinner and liked to practice his English "thank yous" with us. He would sit and watch all of us, so proud of his kids speaking English to us. When, last night, we sang 2 songs for the family before bed, the family convinced Sean, Sarah's younger brother, to sing a Chinese song back to us, and I though the father's cheeks were going to break, he was smiling with so much pride. Then there was Sean, Sarah's 15 year old younger brother, who, at first, was shy, but then opened up to us very quickly and was a kind, wonderful younger brother. All of them treated us so well, and I certainly felt like they treated us like one of there own while we were there for the weekend. When you don't speak the language, you notice body language and facial expressions even more than usual, and the parents were able to communicate warmth and friendliness to us even without using words. By Saturday, we had already started calling them ma and ba, mom and dad, which they loved.
While we were there, we also realized that, although Jishou is a city of only about 600,000, it is much louder and more polluted than the countryside. From the windows of Sarah's house, we could see the fields and the sharp mountains behind them, and the air felt much cleaner. On our walks to the "bathroom," we noticed that the air was silent and fresh.
On Saturday, we traveled via 3-wheeled motorcycle/truck-thing to all of the spots that Sarah's family had planned for us to see. First, we went to pick fresh plums because they insisted that we not return to Jishou empty handed (we returned with 8 grocery bags full of fresh plums, eggs, melons, and watermelons). There, we met up with Sarah's uncle and aunt. We then proceeded to the next stop, which I thought was the most interesting. I couldn't quite figure out how they were related to the people at the next stop 30 more minutes down the road, but in some very complicated, round-about way, they were. In a country as family-oriented and immobile as China, everyone knows everyone and knows how they are related 3 generations back and over 2 steps. People often remain in their hometowns for their entire lives, and it's interesting to see where people see themselves in the future and how far they have traveled. Coming from mobile America, it seems impossible that one of my students who lives one and a half hours outside of Hong Kong has never actually visited the city. Many of my students recommend places for me to visit but then tell me that they have never actually been once I ask them what their favorite thing to do there is.
But back to this weekend. At the second stop, we visited a town/family of grandparents and children. After the children turn 1, the parents usually head off to the salt mines for 3 years, leaving the kids with the grandparents. This was a group of people who had never seen foreigners before, but, instead of treating us as aliens, they offered us watermelon, posed for pictures, and invited us to spend time with them. We got to see some more of the farms that people throughout this part of China have. They are not the massive, commercialized farms of the US. Instead, everyone grows a piecemeal patchwork of oranges, watermelons, kiwis, tobacco, vanilla beans, potatoes, plums, peaches, etc, eating each item as it comes into season. The best part of the that visit was the send off, when about 20 people who we had met only about 2 hours before stood in the middle of the road waving good-bye to us, telling us that we would have to revisit them and that we were always welcome the next time we were in the area. Even in Jishou, there are often times when people seem surprised to see foreigners and just stare at us. The great thing about the countryside, however, was that the overwhelming majority of people seemed as though they had never seen foreigners before. As we walked down the street, people stumbled out of their shops and quickly rose from what they were doing to check us out.
Surprisingly, though, people were more willing than usual to allow me to take their pictures. The most amusing part of my photographing this weekend was when I told Sarah I was going to pause to take a picture of 3 framers resting in the sun and that she should not wait because I would catch up with the group in a few minutes. The next thing I know, she said something to the 3 farmers and they quickly picked up their pick axes, started turning over the soil, and smiled as they worked. I took the picture, and they returned to their break, thanking me for taking their picture.
Of course, not everyone is so open and friendly. After returning back to Jishou this morning, I tried to grab a late lunch at a noodle place that we normally go to. They were out of most of their food for the day, so I thanked them and decided to try a new place next door. I walked in and proceeded to get laughed at as I tried to order my noodles and beef in Chinese. The owner then sat down at my table, staring and laughing at me as I ate, getting her co-workers to come over and watch. Some regulars came in and she proceeded to point and laugh as I ate. Most of the time, I really don't have any clue about what people are saying when they speak Chinese, but I have been here for five and a half weeks at this point and can recognize a few words relating to food and eating. Also, people, including I'm sure ourselves, don't realize how universal certain body language is, and I wasn't born yesterday. I could tell that they were making fun of the way I use my chopsticks and they continued to point and laugh all together. All I wanted was to remember how to say "I understand everything you're saying," but I couldn't. Luckily, though, the language barrier is a two way street, so I smiled politely at her and immaturely said in English that I thought that this was some of the worst food I had ever had. She smiled back, oblivious to what I was saying. Really, it accomplished nothing, but she had no idea what I was saying, so there was really no harm either. When I was finished, I asked (this time, in Chinese) how much everything cost. She told me 5 yuen, which is almost twice the normal rate, but she assumed I just didn't know any better. I told her that that was ridiculous and that I would offer her the usual 3 yuen. She proceeded to get her regular costumers, whom she had been chatting about me with, to try to tell me that they actually paid 5 yuen too. I said no, offered 3 yuen, she accepted, and I left dissatisfied with my meal. I left frustrated with my lunch but realized that it highlighted how patient people usually are with us and how infrequent events like this are. At the same time, it made me realize how often people underestimate the ability or intelligence or feelings of someone else simply because they cannot communicate easily in their language. It was an interesting experience, which I'm now glad happened and showed me why else we are all here this summer.
I mentioned my chopstick use, which is one of the things that I find most amuses people here. At some point in my life, I developed my own style of using chopsticks, which is not technically correct, but which works just fine for me. Every time I eat with a Chinese person for the first time, almost immediately after we get our food, they ask in shock how I know how to use chopsticks. I then usually have to launch into a little multi-cultural lesson about the United States and try to explain how we eat many different kinds of food and that I use chopsticks at home whenever I eat Chinese, Japanese, or Thai food and have been using them since I was very little. They understand, usually fascinated by the variety of our cuisine and asking about all of the different kinds of food available in America. Once that conversation winds down, like clockwork, they then ask why I use them so incorrectly and ask why I don't use them properly. I then have to tell whoever I am eating with that I actually do know the correct way but am so used to this way that I find it easier.
Ironically, the longer I have been in China, the weirder it feels and the more moments I have when I think to myself, "wow, I can't believe I'm actually in China right now." I think maybe it's because we have gotten beyond the "visiting China" part of any travel and are now living here. Ironically, this puts into focus how cool it is to be here even more. Often, I have these moments right as I'm falling asleep and the air conditioning in my room cuts in and out as the electricity surges and shuts off at around bedtime (which is much later for us than for most Chinese).
We may go to sleep later, but most Chinese definitely get up earlier. One of the best things I've done while I've been here is go on the early morning hikes to the surrounding mountains. Every morning at about 6 AM, the mountains around the city are teaming with people going on their morning hikes. It's really exciting to wake up before we're used to typically getting up, to hike a mountain, and to find it packed with people getting breakfast, exercising, and collecting fresh spring water. The first time we hiked the trail behind our campus was the best, when two Chinese teachers, Smile and Daisy, took Lisa and me up to the top, brining us to a Buddhist Temple, where we were invited to pray and eat breakfast, all before anyone else was even awake yet.
Then it was off to class. Teaching has been a great opportunity to interact with so many people and to hear their opinions. We have the excuse of assignments and in-class discussions to ask them their opinions on different subjects and they are not hesitant to ask us questions back. In general, I think my view of China was stuck at about 15 years in the past. I expected a lot more strict party-line views and few differing opinions. For the most part, though, our students are much more liberally minded than I would have ever expected. Many of them take discussions seriously and voice differing views on everything from adoption to Sino-Japanese relations. The one thing that there is no question about, though is, Taiwan, probably because it is not a different country. Often, they are very curious about our opinions and usually listen politely. If we ever mention that Taiwan is its own country, though, they usually laugh, thinking we are ridiculous.
Interestingly, the other thing they are unified about is that Chinese education is sub-par and that the American education style is infinitely better. They are shocked that we have them participate in class and that we are so creative about how we teach. They often complain about the boredom they experience when listening to their teachers drone on for an entire class. Many have expressed disappointment that they have memorized so much material, from grammar to history, but have never been taught the tools to really use the information. They feel like they know the grammar but cannot actually speak. They feel like they know the historical events but are unable to learn from them. One of the most satisfying things has been having a few students come up to me on separate occasions to tell me that I am one of their favorite teachers because I don't just ask them superficial questions and ask them to think of the why and the deeper meaning.
Our students were also all shocked at the beginning of the summer when we told them they would be having personal sessions with a teacher once a week in the afternoon, as our lectures of 18 and drill classes of 5 already provide more individual attention than they are used to. To be honest, sometimes the personal sessions can be tough, trying to think of interesting things to talk about and trying to get them to practice a range of different sentence constructions and vocab words. Every few days, though, I have an afternoon that makes me appreciate these one-on-ones.
Last Wednesday was one of those days. During my first session, with Beth, we talked about her family, and she expressed how guilty she often feels about the expense of her college education. She said that her parents and grandparents work so hard to pay for what she believes is a poor school. Throughout the conversation, she highlighted some of the sentiments I have heard in brevity from many of our scholarship students, who feel a certain sadness at seeing their families work so hard to send them to school.
My second session of the day was with Adam, who is our resident political revolutionary. Often, he expresses dissatisfaction with everyone's blind acceptance of the status quo and believes that there is danger in the concentration of power in the hands of one party. He idealizes American democracy and its systems of elections and checks and balances. During our personal session, he freely spoke for the entire session without me having to prompt him in any way, practicing his English while teaching me about Chinese politics. He also brought up the good point that, in China, there is no politics major, only Marxism and Communism majors. Later that night, at office hours, he wanted to continue the conversation but was very conscious of who was around and who was listening. He sometimes paused, saying that he was not sure of their political views, and he often expressed gratitude for being able to talk to someone more accepting of his ideas. In general, he is unique in his extremity, but it seems that no one is completely enamored with the government. At the same time, no one really wants to or knows what to do about it. Even in education, they all say how they like our system better and always wanted to change theirs but also feel a little guilty and hypocritical because they never actually tried to or even ever approached a teacher about making class more interactive or deeper.
My final session last Wednesday was with Polly, a smiley student who is usually reserved but well spoken. Since I normally hold my personal sessions outside, I know that every one of my students refuses to sit in the sun, concerned that they might get tan and ugly while sitting out there. Many of the girls constantly carry umbrellas to avoid the sun. Anyway, I walked outside with Polly, and the 2 tables in the shade were taken. There was only one other one out front that was below a tree but it had some dappled light shining through. When these tables are filled, I sometimes go to the shade of the garden behind our English building. When I asked whether the third table was okay, she quietly requested that we go to the garden to get away from everyone else. I assumed that she was concerned with the little bit of light that was falling between the leaves. Once we sat down, I asked her if she had anything in particular that she wanted to talk about, which I always do during our more casual personal sessions. She said that she didn't have anything in particular to discuss, so I started with my prompt of the week for my personals, which dealt with the students' families. She stayed on that topic for about one sentence before getting to what she obviously wanted to talk about from the beginning. She started talking about the pressures of being a student in China briefly before tearing up. She informed me that she had been ranked #1 in her class for two years in a row and that she could not bear the pressure of trying to work so hard all of the time. More than that, though, she said she was disappointed by the fact that she had not done well on her college entrance exam and was therefore forced to go to a bad school, where she was training to become an English teacher. As she put it, "I won't be satisfied teaching in a primary school. I just know I won't, and that is what I will have to do. Instead, I want to fly."
It seems as though most of our students are envious of the American liberal arts education, where we get to take a variety of classes and where we can chose from a variety of majors once we are at any school. In China, your test scores determine exactly where you will go to school, and each school has its own major, so how well you do on the test determines what you will eventually do with your life, even if you have no interest in the subject.
I talked with Polly, and she eventually calmed down and told me that she had needed to express that for a while. Now that she had said it and just let it out, she informed me that she felt like she could smile and laugh again. She told me that she was really enjoying our classes and thought that it was great that they allowed the students to think and discuss. But she was dreading when we leave and she would be back to pure memorization without any interest. It made me hope that our teacher classes would have at least even a minor effect on the Chinese teachers we were working with.
Everything else has been going well. I'm still trying to pick up Chinese, but it can get frustrating sometimes when a word like "bing" can mean ice, a type of pastry, or sick, depending on what tone you use to say it. It does feel very satisfying to be able to go someplace and order a meal or go into a store and ask how much something is, even if I can only string words together without any coherent sentence construction. In addition to eating a lot of bing (the second kind), I've now gotten to try snake, frogs legs, and snails. The first two were during meals where my students had invited me to join them for meals. In general, our students have been extremely generous, and we often have invitations to do something everyday. As seems to be typical, all invitations are made about 6 hours before they are supposed to happen, and they usually expect us to be completely available.
Another update on China: We've finally figured out what the really potent smell is that we've all had to inhale at various points. Garbage, sewer, and BO are all recognizable but the strongest, seemingly most offensive turns out to be black tofu. I have yet to try eating it and have to admit that, based on the smell, don't know if I'd be able to. And so, another week goes by in "our China." Our students never say just China, it's always "our China."
The weekend's over and it's almost time to start up classes again for the week. One of the best things was catching up with everyone else tonight, sharing adventures, and enjoying a nice meal in the apartment. It really is a great group, with everyone offering their own perspectives, interests, and fun quotient.
Andrew
PS - For a great read, I've been reading Hessler's River Town, which is both an entertaining read and somehow captures the experience of an American living in China very well.
PPS - Thanks for all of the comments on the photos.