Jalin’s Auntie: Strong Women of China

Posted on October 18, 2008 by connieinasia
 
         Every weekend seemed to be booked solid until Christmas:  Visitor from the Methodist Board coming, Halloween Party night, speech contest elimination round 2,  teacher’s meeting, judging city-wide English speech contest, Amity regional conference, Fulbright scholars 1-week visit . . . .

           Whatever was I going to do without butter for Christmas baking?  The only place to get it is in Chengdu and there just didn’t seem to be any time open to get there except this weekend.
           So on a last-minute decision, Dog and I loaded ourselves onto a bus for the capital city Thursday night.   Here we are, back in the same 5th floor hotel room we had several weeks ago, once again enjoying cooler temperatures than Luzhou and a nostalgic return to our old neighborhood.
          
Convenience Store for Rent
 
          After dropping off everything at the hotel, LF and I immediately took a walk around the corner to visit the Yangs, Jalin’s mom and dad. 
          Jalin (now in her last year of junior high) was still not home.  She was at school until 7 p.m.  Her schedule this year is a loaded one as she and her classmates prepare for high school entrance exams next June.  She has classes 7 days a week, 7:30 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. Monday to Friday and 8:00 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. Saturday and Sunday.  My trips to Chengdu on weekends will give me only glimpses of Jalin in the evening, during dinnertime with her family and before her homework.  Poor girl!  I do feel for her.
          Sitting in the Yang shop which faces the street, Little Flower perched on my lap, I enjoyed chatting with Jalin’s parents.  A sign posted outside now has their business up for rent.  The two have decided it’s too tiring to run such a business for so little money.  They open at 10 a.m. and close at 2 a.m. due to the red light district traffic during the wee morning hours.  After two years of this, and a profit of about 1,000 yuan ($140) a month, it just didn’t seem worth it.
          They’ve had only one interested couple.  The prospective renters also wanted the back room of their apartment so they could sleep there or store items while running the shop.  No one had a problem with that.  As the apartment is fairly small already, Jalin and her mom made plans to share a bed and her dad would take the couch in the living room.
         But the hoped-for rental didn’t pan out.  The couple hasn’t contacted them  again after two weeks so they’re still waiting and hoping.
         I do wonder about their next livelyhood, though.  Jalin’s parents have very little education.  Her father (from a family of 6, his 3 brothers and two sisters) only has a junior high school education.  Her mother ( a family of 3 daughters) has only a 6th grade education.  When I asked Jalin what other jobs they considered doing, or could do, she had no idea. 
         In the meantime, as always, her aunt (the mother’s older sister) is supporting them from America with her salary working in NYC’s Chinatown.  She does nails, shoulder massages and make-up among Chinese clientele.   She has already paid for the Yang’s  apartment, the shop set-up and supplies, Jalin’s schooling, medicines for Jalin’s mother’s diabetes and other necessities.
 
Auntie’s Mystery Life
 
        Jalin’s American auntie has always remained somewhat of a mystery to me as I could never quite get the story straight on her family life.  During my last visit, I finally got the lowdown, and it’s an interesting one. 
        The older brother of Jalin is actually not her brother at all.   It’s her U.S. aunt’s son from her first marriage here in China.  With no income after the divorce, and her previous husband not at all in the picture, 8 years ago the aunt managed to get herself to America by arranging a marriage to a Chinese man in NYC’s Chinatown. Her son, at the time 15 years old, went to live with the Yangs during his high school years, thus being called "the brother".   In many ways, he is much like a brother rather than just a distant cousin because of his time spent with the Yangs. 
           Auntie sent money back to help support the entire family after getting her Chinatown job.  However, there seems to be only one income as the Chinese US husband has disappeared from the picture entirely.  Auntie is sharing a New York flat with 2 other Chinese women from Sichuan with no mention of the husband.  At least, that’s what she told me last year upon her visit back to Chengdu after 7 years of being gone. 
             After high school graduation, her son went on to attend the prestigious Police College in my city, Luzhou.  I always thought he graduated from there after 4 years but decided not to be in law enforcement.  Recently, I learned he dropped out after a year as it was too difficult and didn’t suit his tastes. 
           What does he do now?  Well, basically, he lives a very cushy life living off his mom.  He has a lovely apartment, a car and no job.  He has a lot of friends he hangs out with day and night, not to mention quite a few girlfriends (so Jalin reports).  They go on trips, flying across country to places like Kunming or Guangzhou for siteseeing.  He also drives his buddies to nearby scenic spots for entertainment.   His hope is to eventually join his mom in America, maybe driving a taxi, but it’s extremely difficult to get the visa.  Auntie’s work visa took 7 years.  That’s why she was not able to return to China for so long.
           Meanwhile, here is Jalin who is extremely bright, works very hard in school and wants so much to be educated in America.    When I think of all that money used on the playboy "brother", and all he could accomplish if he’d just put his mind to it, it seems almost a waste. 
 
The Strong Women of China
 
           For me, it’s a fascinating tale of ingenuity and bravery on the part of this Sichuan woman. 
           Here is alone, deserted Auntie. 
           She spoke no English, had no education beyond junior high, was a very provincial woman with little knowledge of the outside world and she was left with a son to raise and no husband to support the two of them.  As the oldest in her family, she also felt a need to help her two younger sisters so she managed to get herself to America for not only a better way of life but a means of completely supporting her sibling sister and her son.  
         The amount of courage and determination it must have taken to do this is unbelievable.  For women in China, I think she presents quite a strong picture of the sacrifices poor, single mothers make in this country when the husbands disappear on them.  
         It’s quite an amazing story although I’m sure there are many more like hers all across China.  I just never hear about them because I’m not privy to that information.  The best I can do is to include her in this blog entry for others to read and think about for today.
 
        Until next time, here’s wishing you "Ping An!" (peace) for your weekend.
         
       
Posted in Tales from The Yangtze River | Leave a comment

The Luzhou Winter Swimming Club: A Foreigner’s Tail

Posted on October 12, 2008 by connieinasia

 

            Now that the October 1st National Day holidays are over, swimming pools all across China are beginning their Winter Swimming Club seasons.

            From the bitter, harsh, snowy cold of the north to the more temperate and mild warmth of the south, non-heated pools are opening their doors once again to swimmers ready to brave the winter elements in their regions. 

            In Luzhou, our Number 6 High School’s public indoor 50 meter pool is one such place.  During the sizzling 100 degree summers, it’s crowded with those wishing to cool off from the heat while at the same time not having to deal with burning their skin.  During the fall, winter and spring, the pool remains quite empty aside from us die-hard fans of the water.  

            Last week, a few sunny days of 80 – 70 degrees have given the water a boost of warmth.  But these past 5 days of rain and cold are sinking us fast into a more chilly swim with chillier yet to come.

            Last year, southern China was sent into almost a daily freeze with even snow.  Rarely do we go below 40 so I can just imagine how challenged our small town swimmers were last year to brave such an unusual climate.   This year, who knows what the weather has in store for us.

            The Number 6 High School first built their pool in 2003, the second year I was in Luzhou.  Before that, I had no place to swim during the winter so I satisfied myself with daily dog walks around the campus.

            Needless to say, for a die-hard swimmer, it wasn’t very gratifying.

            Then a magnificent indoor pool arrived which thrilled everyone in Luzhou who was a water person.  It was equipped with everything from lane lines to starting blocks to heating.  The high school administrators went all out in their building of this facility, including sitting rooms alongside the deck where people could eat, rest or even smoke cigarettes. 

            When the cold weather hit, the pool’s heating system kicked in to a toasty 75 degrees inside with the water steaming upward, into the 90s.  With so many in a small provincial town not used to visiting the pool in the dead of winter, the cost of heating it became too pricy.  No one came aside from me much of the time.   Not even the elderly wanted to swim in such hot water.  A majority who enjoyed winter swimming ventures instead headed to the Yangtze which was where they’d been swimming for years before the pool opened.  

            The third year, the school decided to halt heating all together.  They started the Luzhou Winter Swimming Club starting from Oct. 1 to May 1st.  With a photo and 100 yuan fee ($14), anyone could join the winter swimmers and receive a discount of only 3 yuan (44 cents) a swimming ticket to enter instead of the public 8 yuan ($1.17).  I gladly joined, not realizing just how cold that water gets beginning late October.  By November, I was hardly able to stay in for more than 15 minutes.  Meanwhile, my winter swimming colleagues were easily diving in and gleefully making their way along up and down their lanes for more than 30 minutes.  Amazing, as most had very little body fat to keep out the cold.

            Being the whimp that I am, I cheated.  I ordered a wetsuit from America. 

            That first stroll out onto the pool deck in my Aquaman Pulsar competitive  swimming wetsuit  brought a lot of stares and whispers from my Chinese friends.  They were quite taken by this strange sight, wanting to know what it was and why I was wearing it.   I was even featured in the local newspaper, picture and all, of the foreigner in her special winter swimming gear.  For a couple of days, I was quite the celebrity.

            But after awhile, things calmed down.   I and my suit became a regular item at the pool.  No one cared much what I wore and went about their own work-outs as usual.

            I’ve been a year absent from our No. 6 Middle School pool so my wetsuit is once again causing somewhat of a stir.  Everyone touches the sleek, black, tight-fitting material and wants to know how it works.  They are especially fascinated by the long cord that dangles down from the zipper in the back.   This is the cord that allows me to unzip the suit.  We now jokingly call it the foreigner’s weiba (tail). 

            Years ago in China, overseas’ visitors were often referred to quite venomously as foreign devils.  I’m just thinking if I were transported back 100 years to the China of old, wouldn’t my winter swimming appearance cause quite the sensation. 

            “You see!” the Chinese locals would shout. “It is too certainly a devil.  Look at its tail!”

            Some positive image of Christianity and foreigners that would leave behind, eh?  Good thing the China of today has a more worldly, informed view of overseas’ visitors and their religious faiths.

             In all honesty, this is a good time to be in China sharing in the love of other Chinese Christians and also in the kindness of the Chinese people.  I feel very blessed to be here, my foreigner’s tail and all.  J 

             

            Until next time, from Luzhou, here’s wishing you Ping An for your day.

 

             

                

              

Posted in Tales from The Yangtze River | Leave a comment

Freshmen Classes Begin: Challenges for All

Posted on October 9, 2008 by connieinasia

 

 

           Monday found our campus bustling with more students than the month before.  The National Day holidays are over and our 2,100 freshmen are now beginning their classes after a week of military training.   The English Department has snatched 116 into their English Education major, meaning these students will be entering the teaching field after graduation in 3 years.  Another 26 are pursuing the English Business major.  For myself, I am now the oral English teacher for all the second year students and also 3 new freshmen classes.  Our first meeting was yesterday when I led two classes in their first lessons with their new foreign teacher.

            The freshmen are an interesting mix.  Depending on where they come from (a small city or the countryside) usually determines how good their English is.  Those who are from Luzhou often have had a foreign teacher in the past, either in their junior high or senior high school education.  Most, however, have never spoken to a native speaker before or met one in person.  They are used to Chinese English teachers who are very strict in their classrooms and rarely steer from the book.  Speaking English in class is not practiced.  Only the study of grammar, memorizing vocabulary words and going over numerous practice tests before the final semester examinations is the norm.

              My classes, on the other hand, are a mixture of our conversation book and in-class activities.  This kind of format always takes time for everyone to adjust to and be comfortable with but by the end of the term, they should be quite familiar with my teaching methods.  There will be few surprises or tedious coaching sessions on my part what to do.  Yet before that happens, it’s a lot like leading 3-year olds by the hand.  It takes a great deal of patience and energy on my part not to go bonkers with these students who are more like giggly junior high school kids than young adults.

 

Can’t Speak a Stitch of English

 

            One of our first activities in class is a speaking activity which has us moving around the room, asking one another guided questions on a paper:  “Can you name 5 _____ in English?”  There are 12 blank-fillers for the students to choose from:  5 colors, 5 countries, 5 languages, 5 animals, just to name a few.  If the person can answer, he  writes down his name to show he’s accurately answered and then another person is asked another question.  As the teacher, I also participate in this activity.  It gives me the opportunity see who has problems understanding English, answering questions, and pronouncing words correctly.  It also gives everyone the chance to meet me face-to-face in a non-threatening way.    

            For the most part, everyone can easily read the questions and answer.  If they can’t at least name 5 of the things asked, they usually can name at least 3.  But yesterday in Class 3, I noticed one lone student whom I immediately became concerned about.

            At the beginning of our activity, while other students chorused the game directions together, he sat in silence.  His mouth didn’t move once.  When I demonstrated what to do with another student, his head was bowed and his eyes were on the desk in front of him.  During our activity time, he seemed quite content to race around with everyone else but I watched him merely thrust his paper at his classmates to have them sign their names.  He asked no questions and spoke not a word.

            Finally, I made my way to his corner and caught him. 

            “Can you name 5 animals in English?” I cheerfully asked.

            He smiled a wide grin and spoke in Chinese.

           “I don’t understand English.”

            “You don’t understand anything?” I asked him in his own language.  “Not any of the questions?”

            He enthusiastically shook his head.

            “Can you read the English words?” I questioned.

            He continued to beam his brilliant smile and gave me another shake of his head.

            “So why are you an English major?” I asked.

            He merely shrugged his shoulders and quickly disappeared to the side of one of his male classmates where he quickly began discussing something in Chinese with him.

            Many foreign teachers would be surprised by this but I’ve seen it again and again at our small college.  Many countryside parents who have little more than a primary school education push their children to continue with their studies at a college or university.  It’s their hope and dream to give their child a better life.  For the most part, such sons and daughters do work very hard and want to succeed.  But we do have those who just aren’t really cut out for academics, no matter how low-level those academics might be.  They never wanted to attend a college and have little desire or motivation to bother with further studies.  In most cases, their parents even decided their course of study. 

            “It’s best if you study English and be an English teacher,” they say.  “That way, you will always have a  job.  And English is becoming more and more popular.  You can earn money during the holidays by tutoring children.  Yes, English is a good major.  You’ll study that.”
            Never mind if they never did well in their high school English classes or what their feelings are about studying a subject they could care less about. It’s mom and dad’s wish.  That’s all there is to it.

            I’ve had quite a few students in Luzhou who fit into that category of not caring and not being able to succeed.  They’ve gone through 3 years of quite difficult English courses yet still couldn’t speak a stitch of English in the end, nor pass any of their English exams that are required for them to get a teaching certificate.  I watched them as freshmen enter with some degree of enthusiasm, perhaps thinking they can manage if they try.  Yet they were so far behind everyone else that the workload was too overwhelming.  They eventually gave up, stayed up late playing cards or talking to dorm mates, didn’t bother with their homework and basically blew away their parents’ money.  The sad thing is that in many cases, if they had just moved to another major, they’d have probably done quite well.

 

The Greatest Challenge

 

            These students stuck in the English department always hold a special place in my heart.  I remember every single one over the years and how utterly lost they were in my classroom.  The greatest challenge is trying to find one small thing they can do that will make them feel worthwhile.  It might be erasing the blackboard, handing out papers, pantomiming an English word for others to guess, or even carrying my book bag back to the office.

            In Class 3 yesterday, this young man made me once again realize how utterly hopeless some students will eventually feel after entering our college.  It’s not all excitement and new adventure, like it is for many.  For some, it’s a long, hard, bitter road that will seem never to end.

            After class, I grabbed our young man for a chat in Chinese.

            “What’s your Chinese name?” I asked him.

            “Zhong Huaicheng,” he answered.

            “You’re wearing basketball clothes.  Do you like basketball?” I asked him.

            He grinned. 

            “Yes!” he enthusiastically answered in English.

            “Ah!  You do speak English!” I praised him in Chinese, then added in my native language, “Very good!”

            “No, no!  Bad, bad,” he answered.

            “You spoke English with the foreigner,” I continued.  “That’s not bad.  That’s good!  You must have more courage.  I know you can do it. O.K.?”
            “O.K.!” he said, then he was out the door, his male classmates teasing him with punches and mimicking his “No, no!  Bad, bad!” phrases.

            I don’t expect Zhong Huaicheng to last long in this major.  My greatest hope is that he’ll be gone in a few weeks, having switched over to something he is more interested in and better suited for.  But if not, I’ll continue to do my best to make him feel worthwhile in class.  He may not be able to speak, read or understand a stitch of English, but at least for now he has a hopeful outlook on his student life.  I’d like to keep it that way, at least during our short time together as student and teacher.

 

From Luzhou, here’s sending you “Ping An” (peace) for your day.        

                       

             

 

Posted in Tales from Sichuan's Yangtze Rivertown, Luzhou | Leave a comment

China’s National Holiday Updates from Chengdu!

Posted on October 2, 2008 by connieinasia
 
          Last Friday evening, a majority of items were  packed for our journey to Chengdu.  LF had found the perfect place where she knew she’d not be left behind:  sleeping inside the opensuitcase.                                                                                                                                           

          She’d already dragged out several of the travel toys I’d stuffed in for her to play with in the hotel room.  This is a habit she has.  Our first such road trip, I arrived at the hotel to find not a single toy in the suitcase.  I knew I’d put  them in there! Where were they?  On the return home, I found them strewn about the floor in the sitting room.  After that, I learned my lesson to zip them in tightly right before we left so she couldn’t get to them.
           I haven’t been on a road trip with the dog in over a year and forgot that listening to your instincts is an important part of traveling, especially when you’re headed 3 1/2 hours north. 
          My hands were directly on the sweatshirt and jeans Saturday morning, right before departure.
         "Better take those," I said to myself.  "Remember, it’s colder in Chengdu."
         But in Luzhou’s 96 degree heat, with the sweat pouring down my face and the dog panting after our sizzling morning walk outside, it just didn’t seem possible Chengdu could be cold enough for all that.
          Think again!
          An hour outside of the city landed our air-conditioned bus onto the expressway where overcast skies greeted us.   30 minutes later, we hopped out at the rest stop to temperatures already quickly dipping to the chilly stage.  And entering Chengdu in the dark evening, the cold rain was pelting down in sheets.  I had no umbrella, a suitcase, and the dog in her carrier all to deal with while trying desperately to get a taxi.  The bus station is a bit far out of the city.  Getting a cab is an aggressive fight, especially in the rain and competing against a crowd of other passengers likewise wanting a ride into town.
          I was lucky not to get too soaked.  A taxi pulled up directly in front of me and in I scrambled with my load of stuff.  
          I was really worried that upon my arrival at the hotel, it would be booked and I’d be stuck wandering the streets, looking for a place to stay.  As it happened, I ended up at a hotel not only in my former Chengdu neighborhood, but one that shares the apartment complex’s grounds.  The hotel’s back door exits me directly  onto the grassy enclosure of last year’s apartment.  In fact, the Yang family’s front door is 10 seconds’ walk away from the hotel’s back door with the family’s streetside convenience store just around the corner from the hotel’s entrance.
          Not only that but this hotel offers in-room computers and Net access for $3.00 a day.  The room itself is only $13 a night so I think I’ve hit the jackpot.  The only "down"side is that we are on the 5th floor with no elevators.  It wouldn’t be so bad except that LF needs to go out several times a day, including midnight outings.  Hiking up and down stairs is a bit of a pain but we need the exercise. Already, all our Chengdu friends who knew us before have commented on how fat LF has gotten.  It’s all the food students throw on the ground at our Yangtze river campus.  Even when leashed, she is quick to snap up pieces of cake, gnawed on chicken bones, cookies, crackers, potato chips and a wide range of other goodies our countryside college kids drop along the sidewalk without a moment’s hesitation.
             In other words, educating Chinese about littering may be taking hold somewhat in the cities but in the rural areas, it’s still a big problem to get them to put their discards into a trash can.  LF’s eager tastebuds benefit greatly from this but not her weight! 
             First order of business upon my arrival was a call to Jalin, the 15-year-old daughter of the Yang family, to tell her where we were.  Jalin and I had already been emailing about what we’d do together during the holidays.  Unfortunately for her, she only gets 3 days off (Mon-Wed.).  As all students who are going to enter high school next year, she is busy 7 days a week having classes which will prepare her for the entrance exams into top high schools in the city.  Her holiday would start 6:30 p.m. Sunday evening after she finished her courses along with her classmates.  That left me Sunday to do as I please until Monday when she promised to take me shopping for warmer clothes.
             Monday brought out the shoppers to Chengdu’s downtown shopping heaven, Chun Xi Road.  This is where all the department stores, name-brand stores, small boutiques and hundreds of food places are located.  No cars are allowed and it’s just as well.  We were wall-to-wall people, pushing and bumping into one another despite the wide avenues to walk through.  After over an hour of searching the sports’ stores for a sweatshirt, we found an affordable Jeans West sale where I purchased my purple long-sleeved shirt for $11.  We’d have tackled the crowds for sweatpants but by that time, we were too exhausted from the fight through the mobs.  It was back to Jalin’s home where her mom had prepared several dishes for us to enjoy along with the rest of the family, including Jalin’s younger aunt and her dad’s brother.
             Tuesday sent us to Dr. Q’s (the vet) to pick up LF’s dogfood and new arthritis medication.  The Taoist (Doaist) temple was near there so we enjoyed a visit there along with a sit in the tea house.  Unfortunately, they were closing up so we just drank our water. 
             Wednesday afternoon was a great sit in The Bookworm, a foreigners’ hang-out which is a coffee shop that also serves meals.  The atmosphere is that of a library with wall-to-wall books in the two huge sitting rooms.  Here anyone can choose from the shelves to read at their pleasure.  There are also US and European gossip and fashion magazines to browse through plus Net hook-up for many who enjoy bringing their laptops to do their work. 
            This kind of set-up is so very different than a Chinese tea place or small cafe that it really does make one feel as if they’ve escaped China for a few hours.  Jalin did her math homework and then the both of us cruised through the fashion magazines.
            Today is Thursday.  Jalin’s mother may join us for an outing somewhere in the city, we’re not quite sure where yet. 
           I’m  off to the pool every day from 11 a.m. – 1:30 p.m.  Then I return at 2 p.m. to walk LF until 3 p.m. when Jalin and I meet up for our time together.  
           This is proving to be a very fun week with a few more days yet to go.  After returning to Luzhou, I’ll be sure to give you the week in pictures.
 
          For now, I leave you with "Ping An" (Peace) for your day! 
Posted in Chengdu Daily Life | Leave a comment

Our Long-awaited Freshmen Arrive

Posted on September 26, 2008 by connieinasia
 
 

Just How Hot Is It?  Darn Hot!

 

            The past four days have seen our wide college avenue dotted with pastel-colored umbrellas, fringed in lace or edged in colorful trim.  It’s not rain students and teachers alike are shielding themselves from.  It’s the sizzling heat beneath our hazy, steaming sun that has us sweating and breathing hard when we enter the classrooms.

            All across the campus, everyone is wilting in this high-humidity, 95 degree weather. 

             The elderly wander slowly about, cooling themselves with hand-held fans.  Our female students without umbrellas hold textbooks over their faces to protect the rays from damaging their skin.  The boys roll up their T-shirts to cool their flat, muscular bellies.  The rugged construction workers move at a slower pace than usual. They’re still putting on  finishing touches around the new dining hall building, getting the road, railings and sidewalks completed.  Kitties flop helter-skelter on the pavement and stray dogs take care to trot under our school’s shaded areas.

            In other words, it’s pretty darn hot!

            Currently, the only ones using an umbrella indoors are my elderly neighbors living below me.

             For a month now, my toilet has been dripping down on them.  Our apartments are exactly the same with my cubby-hole bathroom  directly above their cubby-hole bathroom.  Every time they go to the toilet, they carry an umbrella with them to protect their heads from splattering sewage. 

            Our buildings are so old and in great need of repair. Believe me, this isn’t the first time such things have happened nor will they be the last.

              The manager of the teachers’ housing units has been contacted numerous times to fix this leak yet he continues to stall.

            His most recent excuse has been:  “All the school workers are very busy preparing the dormitories for the new students.  After they have arrived and settled in, I will send someone over right away.”

            Ah, we’ve heard that before.

            But my neighbors are very understanding Chinese folk.  They know things take time to get done in this culture so they wait patiently, umbrella close at hand, and continue in their usual routine to protect their heads from my toilet droppings.

 

Our Vocational School’s New Arrivals

 

            The truth is that the workers at the school are, indeed, incredibly busy getting ready for our new college students.  We’ve already had our first small wave of  fresh arrivals 3 weeks ago when the Qing Hai University students came to this campus, their Sichuan branch school.  There were only about 500 of them.

            Now we’re having the full load of 2,000 freshmen descend upon us.  They trickled in from Monday to Wednesday and have been swarming through the gates in full force yesterday and today.  Tomorrow  will be yet another huge wave with Sunday beginning their 8 days of military training.

            The rest of us, upper classmen and teachers, will be enjoying the 1-week National Day holidays along with the rest of the country.  

            Little Flower and I will be going to Chengdu for the week.  Jalin and her family are  looking forward to our return and so am I.  I’ve already chosen the hotel, the one where Richard stayed at within our quaint little red light district.   It had very friendly staff, lovely clean rooms and the manager had no qualms about a dog staying there.  And it was cheap.  $15 a night is a good deal, especially with an Internet café around the corner and Jalin just a block away. 

            I do hope for these newcomers to our school that the weather cools off soon.  Everyone at present has been so hot and tired as they walk through the front gate.  Parents and students alike collapse exhausted under departmental tents while volunteers scurry to bring them water or helpfully haul their things to the dorm rooms.  The line outside the infirmary, where students are getting their physicals, has grown longer and longer.  Our freshmen stand in the burning sun, fanning themselves with their physical exam papers, while their eager parents wait nearby under trees or find a cool place to sit around  the tennis courts.  (The courts are directly in front of the school’s medical clinic.)  

           

Our Dormitory Potpourri

 

            But if it’s hot outside, imagine how it feels inside.   The students report to me constantly of how ruthless it’s been for them.  The dorms are sweltering at 8 to 10 to a room with no fans or breeze blowing through day or night. 

            The newest addition for housing has been the conversion of the old music building into dormitories.  This is what has been keeping the school workers busy practically 24 hours a day.  Walls had to be repainted and re-plastered, new light fixtures added, bunk beds with their boards and thin padding carried over, and the sparse restrooms given more faucets and trough sinks for usage.

            We now have a very odd potpourri of dormitories stretched across campus, all different prices per year with different amenities.   We have the newly built dorms with 4 to a room, a balcony and a shared toilet (1,200 yuan, $190).  Next on the list is the 1998 dormitory buildings with 8 to a room, balcony and shared toilet (1,000 yuan, $158) or 8 to a room with toilets at the end of the hallway (800 yuan, $126).  Third we have the ancient dormitory with 8 to a room and shared floor toilets (700 yuan, $110). Fourth gives us the music building conversion at 600 yuan ($95) with 8 to 10 a room. Fifth is the classroom building conversion for the male students, 30 to a room with dinky trough toilets at either end of the building (400 yuan, $63). 

            Last on the housing list for males is a one-story, narrow building once used as offices in the 1960s.  These have outside shared toilets and faucets for washing with 8 crowded inside each office space, the grand yearly price being 300 yuan ($47).

            If you’re a very poor student from the countryside, whose parents are barely able to afford your tuition, that 300 yuan dormitory is a lifesaver.  It may not look like much but it’s a place to sleep.  There’s also a very strong bond that forms between those living here, all fellow schoolmates  toughing it out together. 

            For a majority of the students at our college, it’s the education, not the comfort, that matters.  They take their studies very seriously.  In my opinion, putting up with such living conditions for 3 years makes these young people a true inspiration to all of us “whimpy” Americans. 

                       

            Before closing, the National Day holidays will find me without personal computer access so it may be a week before I’ll be back in touch.   I’m sure I’ll have plenty of stories to tell upon my return.  

             Until next time, stay safe, everyone, and  “Ping An” (peace)!

 
 
Posted in Tales from The Yangtze River | Leave a comment

Luzhou: A Small Town Feel

Posted on September 20, 2008 by connieinasia
 

             I had forgotten just how small and “out there” Luzhou is compared to Chengdu.  

            My bus ride uptown today on the 201 hugged the river, then entered the city to wind through narrow streets lined with trees.  To the right and left, hundreds of little family-run shops overtook the broken sidewalks.  The bus passed by tiny one-room furniture stores and tool shops, their cement fronts hiding the wooden structures underneath.  Many of these structures have been here for 100 years, repaired so many times that it’s hard to tell their original appearances.  Only their ancient Chinese tiled roofs betrayed their age.

            Alleyways snaked upwards toward the city center or downwards toward the river. 

            Luzhou is a very hilly place, unlike Chengdu.  You’ll rarely see a bicycle anywhere on these streets, which is a strange sight coming from China.  Too much huffing and puffing to pedal your way through this terrain.

            What you will see in such rural cities as this one are “pull workers.”  Pull workers are those who haul furniture, store items, blocks of coal, lumber, construction supplies or anything else one needs moving from one part of the city to another.  They pull their heavy loads on a cart composed of a wide, long wooden plank balanced on two wheels.

            You can find most of the pull workers at the sports’ stadium where they are lined up, one after the other, waiting for business.  The outside stadium stalls house a number of cheap furniture shops.  A majority buying furniture will hire these leathery-skinned, thin and muscular men to drag their new buys back to their apartment buildings.   

           They do a fairly good business around the stadium, which is located in old Luzhou.  They’re a lot cheaper than hiring a truck although it might be awhile before your things arrive.  Pull workers can cost as little as 50 cents for a few blocks to $5.00 for a longer, tedious ones.  
            Like I said, Luzhou is a very hilly place with steep inclines and weaving roads.  It’s not an easy task to lug wardrobes, beds, mattresses and cabinets around this city.  It pains me watching these men strain, struggle and sweat with their loads while slowly making their way up our Luzhou streets.                            

           Luzhou’s business district is still fairly vacant of giant department stores with spiffy entrances and sparkling floors.  We have some but they are far from the beautiful, modern ones in the capital city.  I did notice, however, that Luzhou is trying to step things up a bit.  There are two very large buildings being erected, making our pretty downtown a muddy mess in some places.          

             From the looming scaffolding and central location, I’m guessing these will be department stores, not the hundreds of apartment complexes enlarging the city at every turn.   This new shopping center covers an entire block and happens to be right next to the church.  I’m guessing when it’s completed, it will be the crowning glory of an up-and-coming city which is trying to look more like modern China and less like a backwards river town.

            Personally, I like the backwards river town image.

            The best part of Luzhou is, of course, the waterfront.  We have a lovely area alongside the Yangtze River called Binshan Road.  Binshan Road is blanketed by a canopy of trees lining the wide walkway.  Lots of little sitting places surrounded by landscaping allow strollers a pleasant view of the river.  There’s also the many tea houses along the road as well.

            My camera’s rechargeable batteries went dead on me today when I was walking along Bing Shan Road.  I promise pictures of this area of Luzhou another time.  No visit would be complete without it.

            Stay tuned for other Luzhou entries soon. Classes have had me pretty busy this week but I’ll try not to slow down too much on the blogs.

 

          From Luzhou, here’s wishing you “Ping An” (Peace) for your day

Posted in Tales from Sichuan's Yangtze Rivertown, Luzhou | Leave a comment

A Mid-autumn Festival Sunday of Worship

Posted on September 16, 2008 by connieinasia
 
 

            My Mid-autumn Festival Sunday began not with a purchase of more moon cakes, but with a great pork loin laid out carefully on the butcher’s board.

             For us Christians in Luzhou, these are the perks of having an outdoor market leading up to and around the church building.  Our alleyway hosts the freshest meat and vegetables of the day on an early Sunday morning.  You’ll see many in the congregation with their baskets already full, trying to maneuver their things along the pews to find a place to sit for worship.  I have my book bag instead, heavy enough with my Chinese-English Bible, Chinese hymnal, and pinyin hymnal (English lettering to pronounce the characters) without stuffing it full of market items.  But this particular morning, the freshly-butchered pork selections grandly displayed on the market’s meat tables  were just too good to pass up. 

            If it’s already dead, I don’t mind shopping in the outdoor markets but I do feel a bit sad for the live ducks, chickens, pigeons and rabbits.  Of course, we eat them in the States but we don’t see them quacking or sweetly nibbling on greens before they reach the table.  Makes a difference when purchasing your Sunday dinner foods, that’s for sure.  It certainly makes a difference when attending services.  Live fowl, their heads peeking up over baskets, don’t pay attention to silence etiquette during prayers or sermons. 

 

Review Information: The Luzhou Protestant Three-Self Church

 

            Worship at the Luzhou Three-self Protestant church is held on Sundays from 8:30 – 11:00 a.m. in the original 1913 sanctuary, a project initiated by the Canadian Methodist Mission in the early part of the century.  In 1997, a somewhat palatial front was added with church offices and a large meeting room on the second floor.  Otherwise from that, the church building hasn’t changed much at all since its early beginnings. 

            Aside from offering city Christians a place to worship, the Luzhou church holds several floors in the adjacent apartment building.  From here, church staff and workers run a children’s preschool (Happy Children’s Gospel School), language classes for people wanting to learn English, Japanese and Korean, God’s Love Luzhou Christian Service Center (to coordinate the 15 other meeting points and Bible study groups around the area) and a senior center.  The senior citizens’ center is jointly funded by the church, the Amity Foundation and the local government.  It includes gym equipment, recreation and game facilities, meeting rooms and a dining area where meals are sometimes served.

            There are also two ground floor apartments which have been converted into a clinic facing the street.  Retired doctors are on call, many who have recently become Christians.  Nurses are also on hand to help with the sick and elderly who come in.  A small pharmacy is another addition to the medical facilities. 

            Funding for the clinic has come from Amity, the local government and a substantial contribution from the United Methodist Church.  This is, in fact, the first medical project the United Methodists have ever helped support in the modern Mainland China.  Amazingly enough, it would be here in the city where a United Methodist Amity teacher (myself) is serving.

 

A Mid-autumn Festival Worship

 

            It was a great way to begin a festival day by having worship once again with my Chinese brothers and sisters in Christ here in Luzhou. 

            Over the past 6 years, I have noticed quite a few interesting changes in our services.  This is all due to the modern ideas of Pastor Liao, a woman my age, her husband (also a pastor), two junior seminarian graduates, the dedicated church staff and our younger new believers.

            When I was in Taiwan 10 years ago, a new Christian movement was starting which has certainly affected our little church along the Yangtze. 

            For years, the overseas Christian missionary influence had made services other-worldly to those who were to be served in this part of Asia.   Our traditional Western hymns invaded the overseas’ sanctuary.  Their English words had been translated into Chinese.  No native music was used.  Only our very strange musical scale and melodies were sung. These were quite alien to the Chinese and difficult to sing. 

            Then we have the church building itself.  Churches looked Western in design and carried little color or flavor of the country itself.

              In Taiwan and mainland China, it’s easy to spot a church a mile away.  There is always the tall steeple with the cross on top, architecture that shouts “Foreign!”, and sanctuaries with standard pews, pianos and imported altars.  Walking through the doors of both Catholic or Protestant churches is often  like walking into a strange, eerie world.  No wonder for so many years, Christianity was considered the foreigners’ religion and looked upon as a sinister belief.

            In Taiwan’s Christian community, following after the States, things started to change during the past few decades. Hymns began to be composed by Taiwanese Christians.   Praise songs and uplifting modern Gospel numbers filtered over from America and were translated into Chinese.  Young people started up vibrant choirs and invited their friends to church.  They organized youth parties, Christian rallies and service outreach projects.  Powerpoint presentations began following sermons and guiding the congregation through Bible verses and songs.  Praise bands, liturgical dancers and lead singers started services off with a warm and welcoming spirit.

            Finally, the Christians in Taiwan had taken their faith to another level by building from the past and adding more of their own “personality” to the church movement.

            Now at our small Luzhou church, thanks to Pastor Liao and some very forward-thinking members, we are also moving away from the old, stale and un-enticing to try some different methods.  After years of only the elderly coming to church, the new changes have brought in a younger crowd.

            What sort of changes?

            Following in the US and Taiwan’s footsteps, as of last year, we now have powerpoint.  The small screen allows all hymns, special songs, Bible verses and sermon titles to be placed above for us to see.  Since we’ve never had bulletins, this method has been so easy now to follow the order of service.

            Powerpoint also provides a more convenient way for us to worship.   In China, all Christians have their own hymnals and Bibles which they bring to church every Sunday. Quite a few of the elderly have very poor eyesight. Trying to read the tiny print is difficult.  At least when they are placed on the screen, it’s easier to follow along due to the large print.  And we no longer have to haul around hymals to and from church, which is a nice way to lighten your load.  (Leaves more room for your market produce!)   

            Powerpoint furthermore allows the church more variety in what hymns and songs we do sing.  The official hymnal  of the Three-self Church is printed by the Amity Foundation Printing Press.  In it, you will find hundreds of our Western  hymns translated into Chinese.  As I mentioned before, the Chinese have great difficulty in singing these.  They stumble over the scales, sing the wrong notes and rarely get the timing right.

              With the powerpoint, Pastor Liao and other staff members now have a wider selection to use, such as translated praise songs, newly composed hymns by Chinese Christians and even traditional melodies from their own culture with Christian words attached.  A majority of these come from Taiwan and are so recently published that they can’t be found in our Amity hymnal.

            One of my favorite worship times is the 30-minute warm-up we have before worship begins at 9 a.m.  The church is packed as we all are led through hymns and praise songs.  These recent additions have us standing, clapping, waving our hands and wakening up the church. 

            The newest trend, also coming from Taiwan, is to sing and sign (sign language) at the same time.  Taiwanese, Hong Kong and Singapore pop stars began doing this 10 years ago and it caught on like wildfire.  At talent contests, beauty pageants, high school performances, and organized parties, everyone began singing modern songs and signing with great emotion at the same time.  

            Quite quickly, the Taiwanese church caught on to this. It certainly didn’t take much time for this to hit the mainland.   

            Now in Luzhou, we have a sign leader who guides us to taped music.  We sing our songs from the screen while following her sign language gestures.  She signs with such beauty, grace and heartfelt emotion.  Looking over the congregation, you will see all of us filling with the Lord’s spirit while we sign along with her. 

            I find this kind of call to worship extremely moving every time I participate.   

            Of course, change in any Christian community comes in very small steps.  Although we have our powerpoint presentations, our taped music, and our sing-signing openings, the service itself still basically follows the old.  Our piano player does her best to chord through hymns. (She doesn’t read music.)   We have our usual 1-hour sermons.   And the choir’s anthems continue with traditional Western hymn melodies, wrong notes and all.  

            Sure, it’s a bit old-fashioned but some sanctuary traditions are best left alone.  While I do like the new-age song selections, I also like a familiar, quiet service that isn’t too flashy or “busy”.  I think Pastor Liao has managed quite well in keeping  the elderly Christians, and the young ones, quite happy.  Hard task for any pastor to do.

            We didn’t end until 11 a.m. due to communion, which is 30 minutes over our usual 1 ½ hours.  I made sure to catch Pastor Liao and a few others for their moon cake presents for the holiday. 

            After that, it was into the city streets with the masses. 

            The stores were crowded with people, purchasing festive Mid-autumn goodie boxes for friends and family.  The back alleyways were filled with roadside sellers, always surrounded by holiday shoppers loading up on energy snack foods.  Lots of clothing sales going on as well.

             I even ran into three of my former students, our college graduates from 2 years ago.  They’re already beginning their 3rd year of teaching English at primary and secondary schools in nearby towns.  Seeing them again brought back so many fond memories of my time as their teacher.  Now they’re all off on their own, already becoming seasoned professionals in their own classrooms.

            Time goes so quickly.

 

An End To The Day

 

            This Mid-autumn Festival evening, no moon shown down on us.  Overcast skies kept us mostly in the dark.  It also kept many students away from the sports’ field very late at night.  First of all, unlike everyone else in China, we had classes on Monday meaning many made it an early night.  (If you recall, I mentioned our leaders decided against giving us a 3-day weekend.)  And because all dorms are locked at 11 p.m., most were preparing for bed before the electricity was shut off at 11 p.m..  (Another rule of the school so as to save on utility costs.)

            Little Flower and I did take a turn around the field but that was about all the excitement we had.  I also was calling it an early night as I had a full day of teaching on Monday.

            We did manage a bit of party fun for the evening.  LF received her birthday moon cake, complete with a candle on top.  I generously used one of the school’s specialty Macau moon cakes, straight from their gorgeous gift box.  Not that LF noticed the difference.  One moon cake to her is just like any other:  food!

            Our next big event will be October 1 – 6, which is China’s National Day holidays (the founding of the PRC in 1949).  This is one holiday week we won’t be cheated out of.  Everyone will receive their full 6 days, which I’m sure will be enjoyed by all of us.

            And on that last bit of happy news, I’ll close off for this evening.

 

            From Luzhou, here’s wishing you  “Ping an!”  (peace)

Posted in Tales from Sichuan's Yangtze Rivertown, Luzhou | Leave a comment

Reports of Connie’s Dad

Posted on September 14, 2008 by connieinasia

 

            After announcing my father’s ICU hospital stay, I received a number of emails from so many of you, saying my family was in your thoughts and prayers. Thank you so much for your concern.  It has meant a great deal to me here in China. 

           I was actually waiting for good news to report before saying anything further.  He is still in Terre Haute Union’s ICU, with my mom spending most of her days and nights there.  She’s accompanied with frequent stays by my older brother, Paul the attorney, and my dad’s younger brother, Chuck the retired college physics’ teacher.

            After two weeks of bad news, my mom is now able to email some good news.  My father is now breathing on his own up to 18 hours a day.  He sits up in bed.  The doctors are very optimistic that after rehabilitation sessions, he will be able to return home at some point, maybe after a month or two.  This is a much better than anyone expected in the beginning.

            My mom has tales to tell of all the nurses: the tough veteran, the newbie, the handsome dark Spaniard, the down-to-business gal.  Each has his or her own personality which makes the day pass more quickly for my mom.  She observes this-and-that about each one of them. Even though the newbie is still learning about dealing with ICU patients, the over-all quality of care is exceptional.  We are very fortunate in that.

            My brother has already gained a great deal of respect among the doctors and nurses for his desire to understand everything that is going on.  And news has traveled fast about his profession.  He was stopped last week in the hallway by a hospital worker who wanted advice about a legal matter. 

           My brother is a very kind, affable guy.  I have no idea what he told her but I’m sure it was helpful. 

            He’s probably now endeared himself to the entire ICU ward. 

            Union Hospital has an email card service which my high school classmate told me about.  My father was a high school history and civics teacher for over 25 years in our Marshall community.  He is well-loved by all his former students so she sent around the notice to many of us alums how to send an e-card.  These are then distributed by the chaplain’s office at the hospital.  I’ve already given it a go to see just how well it works.  I’ll get reports from Priscilla, my mom, on if it’s been received or not.

            Computers certainly are Godsends in many ways.

            In the meantime, stay tuned for Mid-Autumn Festival news.  Our overcast skies are not going to allow us to see a full moon tonight but if the rain holds off, maybe Little Flower and I can join the students on the sports’ field for moon cake eating.  Last night on our 10 p.m. walk, we spotted quite a few couples hugging and cuddling on the field’s  lawn.  There were also clusters of dormitory mates snacking on potato chips and their own moon cake piles.  If we have a good showing tonight of the same people, I’m sure I’ll have plenty of opportunity to get rid of my small hoard.    It’s more fun to share with others than to stay at home.  I’m sure LF would agree.  The more people there are, the more begging she can do and the more moon cakes she can eat.  No one can resist a cute, eager, whining Chihuahua.  Little Flower should have quite a few birthday dessert helpings this evening, that’s for sure, and some extra birthday pounds to go along with them! 

            Reports yet to follow of our Sunday Mid-Autumn Festival evening.

 

            From China, wishing you a Sunday’s Ping An (peace)

 

           

           

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A Day Of Mooncaking

Posted on September 13, 2008 by connieinasia

 

            Despite the my previous entry, I actually am quite fond of Mid-Autumn Festival.  There are a variety of reasons but I’ll just explain my top three.

            First of all, I chose this day as Little Flower’s birthday.  I never have been sure exactly when she was born but it was somewhere around Mid-Autumn Festival.  Making it her birthday, complete with her very own mini-moon cake (yue bing)  to eat, topped with a candle, and sometimes a party of well-wishers, was meant to be more fun for those coming than for the two of us.  I did it to break the monotony of students’ lives here and give them stories to tell their parents back home.  

            Last year, Jalin and I celebrated LF’s birthday, intending for her to enjoy her one little moon cake by herself while we sampled a whole lot more. As it turned out, we weren’t attentive enough to our moon cake feast piled on the coffee table.  When both of us went out to the kitchen to get drinks, we returned to find LF had gotten herself onto the table and eaten our entire sample tray!

            That was certainly not on her diet.  It took her several days to slim down again to her normal weight.

            The second reason I like this festival has to do with last year’s announcement.  For the first time, the Chinese government proclaimed Mid-Autumn Festival a national holiday.  In other words, we’re not supposed to have school on that day.  Last year, at Sichuan University, I also had the day off along with everyone else to celebrate the rising of the moon and the family togetherness of this Chinese traditional day.  This year, the new holiday falls on Sunday with universities, high schools and grade school  kids having Monday off.  A three-day weekend!  What a way to celebrate.

            That would be us, too, except our school leaders decided they would cancel Sunday classes only but we’d continue with the usual all-day Saturday and Monday lessons.  Since there are never classes on Sunday, I really don’t consider that much of a holiday.  Those teachers having to teach on Saturday, a regular school day for us, are really quite miffed. 

            So much for a day off.

            And last of all, I enjoy this day because it’s my opportunity to appreciate others in a Chinese way.  Since everyone gives me moon cakes, it’s my turn to reciprocate in kind.  It’s such fun to cruise the many department stores and see what boxes they have to offer: the prices, the sizes, the many different kinds, and the beautiful wrappings.  Selecting just the right box for which school leader is truly an enjoyable task. 

            This year, I picked up 15 boxes of moon cakes for the English Department heads and the school administrators.  On Thursday morning, it was my turn to descend upon them in their offices. I presented my presents, giving my thanks for their care and concern for my well-being over the years.        It’s not often a foreigner does this on a Chinese holiday.  I love the looks of surprise on people’s faces.  Rarely do school leaders receive moon cakes from teachers or others and this just makes my gratitude all the more special.

            Then we have others in my daily life here: the 30  English teachers in our department, my neighbors, the swimming pool staff, the shop keepers I often visit, or members in the church.

             All along the alleyways and side streets, we have those who pile mini-moon cakes out for purchasing.   Choose your many flavors, have them weighed and for a reasonable 10 to 12 yuan a pound ($1.45 – $1.75), you can treat dozens of people for Mid-Autumn Festival.  

            Yesterday, it was my great pleasure to do this at our English Departmental meeting, the swimming pool, the school’s front gate guards, my neighbors below me and the taxi driver who drove me home with my stash of goodies. 

            Come Sunday, the same will happen at church which is the official Mid-Autumn Festival day. 

            Although I teasingly ridicule China’s moon cakes, I have to say over the years they have actually grown quite tasty.   Sure, some people don’t care for them but to be honest, quite a few do.            New flavors and specialty items have appeared on the moon cake market now.  Banana, chocolate pudding, custard, strawberry, pineapple and even ice cream moon cakes have recently been invented for the modern world.  Moon cakes from Macau, Hong Kong, Taiwan and Singapore are now found in the Mainland, touting their own distinct flavors, shapes and fillings. 

            In fact, the lovely box bestowed upon me by the school is from Macau, the moon cakes inside carrying messages such as “Share the Delicacies with your family” and “Famous for its high quality” not to mention the more sentimental note, “On festive occasions, more than ever one thinks of one’s dear ones far away.”

            I’ve never had Macau moon cakes before so this should be quite a unique Mid-Autumn Festival gift for me.  Little Flower I doubt can differentiate between the cheap stuff and the expensive.  Even though it’s her birthday, she’ll get her usual miniature yue bing  that’s from the alleyway sellers.

            And this year, I’m making sure there are no abundant samples on the coffee table for her to gobble down.  During this holiday, there’s going to be only one family member breaking her diet this year.  That’ll be me, not the dog.

 

            From Luzhou, here’s sending you an early Mid-autumn Festival greeting topped with our usual “Ping An” (peace)

           

 

 

 

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The Moon Cake Disposal Dilemma

Posted on September 12, 2008 by connieinasia

 

Note:  My below essay appeared in last year’s Christian Science Monitor’s Home Forum for Mid-Autumn Festival.  I share it with you today with tales and photos tomorrow of how I personally have been celebrating this upcoming special day, falling on Sept. 14 (Sunday).

 

It’s a fight to get through the lower levels of the Mouer Department Store.  The entire population of our Yangtze river town seems to be here. I press in close and peer over the customers, sampling and discussing some item of great importance.

 What’s the big draw?  China’s Mid-Autumn Festival is nearly upon us, and with it comes the yue bing, or moon cake.   

Mid-Autumn Festival is a night of reunion for the Chinese.  Friends and relatives gather outside under the full moon to enjoy each other’s company and share the traditional Mid-Autumn Festival dessert, the moon cake. 

Much like our Christmas fruitcake, the moon cake is not really a cake at all.  It’s a heavy mass of pasty substance, the size of your palm, encased in either a soft dough or flaky crust.   Fillings abound, such as hard-boiled egg yokes, shaved dried beef, sweet red bean paste, coconut, minced walnuts, sesame seeds and pine nuts.  

Each year, thousands of yue bing make their way into every shop, grocery, market and department store across the country.   And each year I’m in China, it seems thousands find their way into my home.

I have been teaching English in China for nine years and never have I been able to escape the bombardment of yue bing.  In China, moon cakes descend upon the foreign teacher with a vengeance.  In my small apartment on the campus of Luzhou Vocational and Technical College, the moon cake pile is rapidly growing, much like a persistent fungus.   

             “We want to share our culture with you!” my students and colleagues call out as they thrust into my hands boxes and bags of this festival snack food.  Even the school administration officials get in on the act.  A formal visit to my home brings them laden with regional moon cake specialties presented in ostentatiously decorated boxes. 

            I appreciate their kindness but at the same time, I am at a loss what to do with my nightmarish hoard.

            Strangely enough, like the Christmas fruitcake, moon cakes are somewhat of a joke.  My beaming well-wishers proclaim them “delicious,” but when the Chinese are questioned, their responses are not so complimentary.

            “Too sweet,” my students frown.

            “Too fattening,” my colleagues declare.

            “Too many!” my friends groan.

            So while it seems everyone gives these things away, no one really likes to eat them.

            I have found this especially true on the campus of our college.  Many of the students are from poor farming families.  Due to money constraints and their distant countryside residences, they can only return home at the end of the semester.  Their Mid-Autumn Festival night is spent with their classmates.  Everyone camps out on the school’s sports field to watch the moon roll slowly across the starry sky. 

            Two years ago, I joined them in hopes of getting rid of my moon cake stash with a give-away.  Little Flower, my Chihuahua-mixed pooch, accompanied me on the distribution rounds. 

            Each cluster of students we approached broke into applause. 

            “Welcome!  Welcome!” they shouted, making room for us to sit in their circle. 

            By midnight, all the students had been visited and all the moon cakes were gone.  I would have considered the evening a success except for one small matter.  While the students had gleefully snatched up the goodies I brought, after one or two small bites, they tossed the remaining yue bing on the ground.  The next morning, when the dog and I went for our campus walk, I surveyed in horror the neat and tidy field now littered with “my” moon cakes and all the individual wrappers they had come in. 

            Little Flower benefited the most from my magnanimous spirit.  Her belly grew twice its normal size due to her gorging on what the students had discarded.

            Now I am once again confronted with the moon cake disposal dilemma.  The prankster in me is being pulled toward the ancient Buddhist temple, located across from our school and overlooking the Yangtze River.  I imagine myself standing on the temple’s outer walls, raining moon cakes down on passing barges and fishing sampans as they slowly cruise by on festival night. 

            “Mid-autumn treats from Buddha descend on worthy river vessels,” media headlines read.

            Of course, that’s just a foreign teacher’s humor.  But if reports do surface of a mysterious moon cake shower across the Yangtze, you’ll know who’s responsible.

 

           From Luzhou, Ping An (peace) until tomorrow!

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