connie's space

Tales of My Absence

           The rain poured down last night in buckets, just at the moment I was about to head out the door to pick up Little Flower from her babysitter’s home.  I’d have gone earlier in the day but Mrs. He wasn’t off work yet so no one was home.  Due to the storm, I had to postpone the LF pick-up until this Friday morning.

            That rain yesterday evening was a welcome relief to the sticky humidity of August that hit me as soon as I exited the airplane here in Chengdu.  Whew!  Illinois hadn’t been much better.  It was leaving one steamy sauna and landing in yet another.  Not too pleasant. 

            Rebecca (Zhang Ou), my house sitter, had taken excellent care of Little Ghost while I was gone.  She thoroughly enjoyed being here with her friends, watching movies and hanging out, but wasn’t exactly used to keeping an apartment clean.  University students in China are not as independent and able to be on their own as much as our U.S. students.   Parents look after them during summer months, doing all the cleaning, washing and meal preparations, so Rebecca had some difficulty knowing how to actually keep such a “big place” (her words) in proper order.   I had showed her all the cleaning supplies before I left but I should have had a tutorial on what to do with them.   Basically, no dusting or sweeping of floors had been done in a month. 

            Bless her heart, she apologized that she hadn’t done very well yet remedied that by helping me tidy up after I arrived.  It didn’t take long with two of us scrubbing down floors and getting up the filth accumulated after a month.  No hard feelings and the place was satisfactorily put together in no time.

            Rebecca had some interesting stories to relate after our cleaning session had ended and we were able to sit for awhile.  I had left for the States before she arrived in my place.  When she came in that Friday afternoon, Little Ghost was nowhere to be found.  She looked for her everywhere.  She called for her.  She searched high and low yet no kitty. 

            At that point, 21-year-old Rebecca burst into tears, thinking she’d lost the foreigner’s cat.  She worried it had escaped somehow when I had walked out the door or managed to slip through some hidden window opening that led outside.  One plan was to call my former dean, Cathy (Li Xiaolian), who is a good friend of mine, and have her  call me in America to inform me about the cat.   

            But Rebecca had a much better Plan A which won out:  When in doubt, call your mum. 

            Thus a sobbing Rebecca phoned her mother to ask what to do.  Her mom calmed her by telling her to first check with the neighbors (the Yangs) and maybe they knew something about the kitty.  Rebecca immediately ran next door where Jalin and her parents suggested she leave food out.  Little Ghost was at home but probably hiding.  When she’s hungry, she’ll appear.

            Rebecca did as they suggested, then sat anxiously waiting  for LG to appear.

            It took awhile but, sure enough, she saw a white face and furry body make a food appearance around midnight.  She could at least get some sleep that first night, knowing she hadn’t lost the foreigner’s cat. 

            Rebecca said it took a couple of days for LG to get used to her but eventually, everything was fine.  LG made up to Rebecca and all her friends coming and going.  This included my Luzhou students (Diana and Agnes) who stayed for a week while attending a Sichuan University conference to prepare for a huge English language contest near Beijing.  LG also enjoyed the company of an 18-year-old high school graduate, the son of Rebecca’s mother’s friend, who likewise stayed here for 10 days.  He was taking English language classes at Sichuan University in preparation for his freshman year abroad in the States.  According to Rebecca, he really loved LG and even allowed her to sleep with him at night, quite unusual for Chinese who never allow animals in the bed with them. 

            While Rebecca and company took care of LG, Little Flower had her own adventures with Mrs. He and her family.

             After I trudged up the 7 flights of stairs to her apartment this morning, I could hear Little Flower barking eagerly at my approach after I called out to her.  Mrs. He flung open the door and there was my very happy little dog, a lot plumper than I remembered her being.  Mrs. He, her daughter and husband all have a habit of giving too many snacks to whimpering, pathetic-looking hungry pets.

            LF also doesn’t get much exercise with Mrs. He’s family.  Since there is no elevator and they live on the 7th floor, treks downstairs to the outer apartment garden area are limited.  Usually, the dogs just  use the restroom on the apartment’s rooftop balcony. 

            LF was certainly ready to go home.  She quickly jumped into her carrier and waited there patiently while Mrs. He and I did the obligatory social chit-chat before it was time to depart.  We have made arrangements for a farewell dinner sometime in the next few weeks before I return to Luzhou.

            After LF and I returned home, Little Ghost greeted us by pouncing on the dog and then tearing around the apartment, happy to have her playmate back.   LF had a bath and nail clipping, then it was a walk around the neighborhood to see all my Chinese friends.  LF trotted along, enjoying her visit with the international foods’ store staff, the bakery helpers and finally the hotpot restaurant owners who gave her a chicken leg to chew on.  Everyone was happy to see our return and said how much they missed us.

             It was a good feeling to be back in my China home among all my Chengdu friends.  It will be hard to leave them soon but for now, I’m going to enjoy their company to the fullest.

The Hourly Countdown to The Olympic Games

            Now that the apartment is clean, the animals settled back into their normal routines,  my noon swim is finished, and primary groceries purchased, it’s time to address the greatest excitement of all today:  The opening ceremonies, just hours away!

            Everyone I meet has had the same thing to ask: “The Opening Ceremonies start tonight at 8 p.m.  Are you watching them?”

            On my taxi rides around Chengdu today, the drivers and I were discussing the Olympics.  One driver was lucky enough to be off tonight while another was proud to point out his taxi was equipped with a small TV screen above the dashboard.  Those two will definitely not miss out on the fun.  My other drivers, however, were stuck in their taxis, driving people about.  They’ll have to watch the re-runs along with many others who have night jobs.

            On our walk along the streets, LF and I spied our usual family-run convenience stores, lining our small alleyways, busily positioning their TV sets on top of high counters for a better viewing.   Even the store across from my apartment complex gate had dragged down the family’s huge color TV to watch the games as they take care of customers.

            At the swimming pool, the locker room attendant ladies were disappointed that they’ll be missing a lot of the games because they don’t finish until 10 p.m.  By the time they return home, it’ll all  be over.  Only one woman was smiling happily.  Her shift ended at 6 so she’ll have plenty of time to settle down for the opening ceremonies this evening.

            As for myself, I’ll be next door with Jalin to watch the grand show on her family’s TV set.  It’s a lot bigger than mine and will be more fun sharing the moment with others. Her parents already have a small TV in their store where they can also see, along with the rest of China, this spectacular event. 

            Needless to say, we’re all very excited to be able to witness China’s exciting 4-hour affair unfold before us live.  There’s to be a very special bit included in the dance routines about the Sichuan earthquake.  For those of us here in the earthquake zone, that will be an especially poignant moment.   

            One thing’s for sure:  Seeing the Olympics in China will certainly be something to remember. 

            Sorry you all can’t join us in America.  You’ll most likely be getting everything second-hand, a full day later.  It’ll still be just as impressive, though.  Enjoy!

           On that last upbeat note, from Chengdu, here’s wishing you “Ping An” (Peace) for your weekend.

           Tomorrow, I will be returning to America for three weeks in order to apply for a Chinese work visa.  These visas can only be given outside of the country, thus the return to the States. 

            Being a person who enjoys planning ahead of time, I’ve had my week mapped out very well to get things done a little at a time so as not to be rushed. 

            First, I found a house-sitter who will take care of the flat and also Little Ghost.  Rebecca (Zhang Ou), a Sichuan University student, was the one who helped me with apartment hunting last year.  She’s a biology major but her English is excellent.  Last Sunday, she came for a visit so we could go over all the quirks of the apartment and details of taking care of kitty.

            This certainly beat staying in the dorm during the summer or returning to her hometown where there wasn’t anything to do.  Having all the comforts of home, not to mention thousands of movies from my pirated DVD collection to watch, is a big deal for a Chinese college kid.

            The only concern Rebecca had was staying by herself.  This worry also spilled over to her mother who thought I was living in a run-down, poor area of the city (which I certainly am not).      Chinese young women are not as independent as Americans.  Having people around is a comfort so Rebecca planned on having some friends stay with her.  As it turned out, two of my Luzhou students are attending a 1-week English orientation program at Sichuan University. Both had done excellent in a provincial English competition and their reward was a scholarship to an English camp in another province.  First, however, they had to attend the orientation in Chengdu but had no place to stay.  Since my apartment is huge, with two beds and plenty of room for guests, both Diana (my three Muskateer girl) and  Agnes (another of my former students) will be staying with Rebecca while they complete their program.  After that, Rebecca will invite more of her friends to hang out with her.

            We’ve already had a number of phone calls this evening, just making sure everything was in proper order for her arrival tomorrow afternoon.

            Little Ghost is easy enough to care for but Little Flower is a bit more bothersome.  Because she would never allow a stranger to take care of her, especially in her own territory, this evening I’ve dropped her off at her babysitter’s home. 

            For 7 years, Mrs. He (huh) has looked after LF whenever I leave for the States.  Her husband is a businessman and she is the vice director of the Sichuan Center for International Peace and Development Studies.  I’m not sure what that all entails but it’s a high-level government position.  Her daughter, now 20, is ready to begin her third year as a computer major in a Chengdu university.

            Mrs. He has a small male poodle and the two dogs get along splendidly.   Of course, it usually takes LF a few days to get used to her new environment. Usually, she stays huddled in her carrier and refuses to come out, even to eat or use the toilet, but eventually Mrs. He and family win her over. 

            Whenever I leave their home, it’s a very unhappy, panicked LF whom I hear whimpering and barking at the door but upon my return, all that’s forgotten.  Mrs. He then gives me the rundown of all LF’s happy times she’s enjoyed with everyone, including her romps with Huan-huan (the poodle) and her play sessions with her daughter and husband.

            Yes, my well-planned week was moving along quite nicely.  House sitter and animals taken care of,  gifts bought, visa documents in order, suitcase just about packed, an early night in

expected  . . . .  and then came the explosion.

            At midnight, as I was about ready to turn off the lights and call it a day, I heard a huge bang.      After racing to the kitchen windows, I peered out to see crowds of people in our red light district pouring out of buildings into the street.  Because my windows don’t look directly onto that area, all I could see were the heads of hundreds standing along the sidewalk and in the middle of the road but I couldn’t make out anything else.

            Not about to miss out on a neighborhood event, I grabbed my camera and quickly made my way clear around the block to find out what all the commotion was about.

            By the time I arrived, perhaps 15 minutes later, the police were there keeping the crowds back.  Two fire trucks were also present and firemen were moving about in front of the building opposite mine.  An ambulance slowly inched its way to the front of the crowd while I did the same. 

            The Yang’s convenience store is on this road so I stopped in to talk to Jalin’s mom and dad about what had happened. They said there was an explosion but they had no idea what it was. 

            Sure enough, after making my way through the growing number of spectators, I saw what was causing all this commotion. 

            One of the shops along the street had exploded, the security guard door blown clear across the street with glass and bits of metal everywhere.  The inside was completely charred with not a single thing left inside.  As the firemen cautiously entered to inspect it with flashlights, we all wondered the same thing:  Was anyone inside?  Could they have possibly survived?    

            There was no fire or smoke, just a burned out, one-room shop and (thankfully) not a single person inside.  Nor were the apartments above the store damaged, although the fire department quickly evacuated the building to make sure this was an isolated incident and wasn’t about to happen again.

            Although nothing much was going on, no one really wanted to leave. 

            Being a very humid, sticky, hot night, our midnight awakening made this a great time for an ice-cream run.  The convenience stores started doing an incredible business with the spectators.  Net users, prostitutes, sleepy residents and others were cooling down in this wicked night heat with the help of popsicles, ice cream bars and drumsticks purchased from nearby shops. I noticed Jalin’s parents’ store freezer was emptying fast, along with all the other business owners’. 

            After about 45 minutes, I called it quits but people still haven’t quite dispersed yet and it’s almost 1:30 a.m. 

            I suppose tomorrow, we’ll all know what the explosion was about but I might very well be headed to the airport before then.  Nothing like a little mystery and intrigue to occupy my thoughts on a very long, long flight across the Pacific ocean.   That as well as a big "bang!" send-off.  

            And on that last note, I’ll call it quits for these wee morning hours with promises to update you all from time-to-time before my return to China next month.

            As always, here’s wishing you “Ping An!” (Peace) for your upcoming weekend.

              I eagerly waited for a pick-up after dialing the number Jason (Li Ke) had given me.  It was his mother’s cell phone number, the only way I could contact her as she was staying with her daughter in the hospital.

            “Wei (Hello?)” I said in Chinese when I heard a voice answer.  “Wo shi . . . (I’m . . .)”
            I didn’t even get to finish.

             Dai Wei Chun, Jason’s mom, excitedly called out, “Connie Laoshi! (Teacher Connie!)”

            Jason had warned her I’d be calling to make arrangements for a time I could visit Li Xiao Juan, Jason’s 26-year-old sister who had finally had her heart operation 2 days ago.

            Jason’s sister was born with a congenital heart defect, a small hole in the heart which was only detected about 5 years ago. This needed to be repaired and repaired as quickly as possible as it was only getting worse.

             Because of all the procedures the doctors have been laying out that could be done, Jason wasn’t exactly sure what was going on.  His distance from home only allowed phone calls to explain what was happening during the past 3 months and these he relayed to me.  There was talk of open-heart surgery and this is what I previously thought would be done.

            However, a decision was made instead to use an implant to help close the hole.  I had no idea what that entailed so I looked it up on the Internet.  Here’s what I found, in very simplified terms:

            The doctor finds a small hole in the heart. This hole is called a patent foramen ovale (called a PFO) or an atrial septal defect (called an ASD). It is between the right and left atria (upper chambers) of your heart.
            The doctor wants to close the small hole using an implant. The implant looks like two small fabric umbrellas, one on each side. Over time, the tissue around the hole grows into the fabric and the implant becomes a permanent part of the heart.
            A cardiologist uses a catheter (small, narrow tube) to place the implant in the hole. The procedure is called a transcatheter hole closure. This is used  instead of open heart surgery.

            This  operation is fairly non-evasive.  The patient is awake, an incision is made in the groin or neck (the groin for Li Xiao Juan), the catheter is threaded through the vein to the heart and the implant (two fabric umbrellas) is released to plug the hole.  The patient needs bedrest for awhile, receives blood thinner and antibiotics for infection, but other than that, he or she is free to go home after a few days in the hospital.  In China, however, this procedure called for Li Xiao Juan  to stay a week in the hospital.

            After talking to Jason’s mother, we agreed that today in the afternoon around 3:30 would be a good time to visit.  Chinese hospitals have no visiting hours as people constantly come and go.  This is because, as I mentioned before, it is the responsibility of others to care for the patient’s needs (food, clothing, cleaning) and not the hospital staff.  Jason’s mom was staying during the daytime while his father was working.  At night,  Mom went home and Dad came to stay with their daughter.  Jason’s sister shared her bed with whoever spent the night.  Bed-sharing with patients is also common practice for care-giving relatives in a Chinese hospital.

            Although I could have gone to the hospital by myself, I was fortunate enough to have two of my three Muskateers on hand to accompany me: Rich (Wang Yun) and Diana (Ding Yan Bin).  Although Rich had finished his college courses last week, and even returned the 6-hours by train to his hometown, he suddenly realized he’d forgotten his medical textbooks which he wanted to review during the summer.  Thus he made a second trip yesterday back to the capital city to retrieve them from his dorm room.  Diana, being only an hour away, came (naturally) because of  Rich.   This would be their third time to meet under my watchful eye, making me wonder if I’m the chaperone or the matchmaker.

            With the Huaxi Hospital address and the room information in hand, we headed off by taxi to visit our patient.  As is customary in China, I brought fruit with me for Jason’s sister.  I purchased bananas, pears and peaches but was then told by Rich that bananas are considered unhealthy for those who’ve had operations.  I almost left them behind until we remembered she might have visitors.  They could eat the bananas even if she couldn’t.

            I’ve been to many hospitals in China but never one in a capital city.  Most were small town or county hospitals, which I can say were not exactly the best facilities.  But Huaxi was brand new, a large complex of clearly marked buildings with a lovely park cradled in the center.  It even had elevators and air-conditioning, which was nothing I had ever experienced years ago in China.  This was a state-of-the-art medical facility and entering it, I truly felt Jason’s sister was in the best of care.

            On the 12^th floor of the heart recovery unit, we found Jason’s sister in Bed 16 along with 6 other patients.  Each person had a simple bed with a hard mattress, a chair and a small bedside table with a cabinet underneath to store things.  A bathroom-washing area was also included in the room which everyone shared. No showers, however, as showering is considered unhealthy for those who are sick. Sponging off only are the orders doctors and nurses give to patients.

            We only had a bit of a problem in that Jason’s mother went down to meet us at the front entrance when we went up to the room directly. She had no idea where we were so she called Jason, thousands of miles away, to call me and ask me in English where I was.  Of course, she could have called me directly to speak with her in Chinese but she was worried that maybe I’d not understand.

            After Jason called me (from across a province), I then called his mother (downstairs) to return to where we were (upstairs) sitting with her daughter. 

            Ah, the blessings of having a cell phone!

            We visited for about an hour, sitting on the edge of Li Xiao Jian’s bed and chatting away in Chinese while the other patients looked on in wonder at her foreign visitor.

            I told funny stories of my American family and my experience in the big earthquake. Jason’s mom showed us the X-rays of her daughter’s implant.  (Patients take their X-rays with them when they go to different departments, rather than have the hospital keep these for them where they might get lost or misplaced.)  She also thrust bananas into our hands and carefully peeled a peach for each of us, which we quickly gobbled down. It was getting on dinnertime and we were hungry.

             Jason’s sister told us how relieved she was to have the operation over with.  She explained the doctors told her to rest for 6 months before going back to work or doing anything strenuous, thus she’ll be at home all this time recuperating. She’ll have four check-ups during the next two years, after which the heart should be fully healed with the aid of the medical procedure she just had on Monday.

            It was quite an amazing thought to think that medical science has advanced to this stage, where open-heart surgery no longer is necessary for such cases as that of Jason’s sister.  And even more amazing to realize that China, in such a short time, has now developed the ability and know-how among its own medical professionals to do these operations in such safe, sanitary environments.  This was definitely not the case 14 years ago when I first came to China. 

            Although hospital policy forbade us from taking pictures inside, we did manage one very quick snapshot of me and Li Xiao Jian before the nurse stepped in the door to chastise us.  I debated not breaking hospital rules but I wanted at least one memory to take back with me. 

            Now I have a visual memory and I’m not feeling one bit guilty for having broken the rules to get it. 

            I now have next month to look forward to when Jason returns from school and invites me to his home for a home-cooked meal.  By that time, his sister will be feeling much better and our picture-taking session won’t be placed under restrictions.  We can take as many as we want, and that’s exactly what I plan to do.

From Chengdu, sending you a blessed “Ping An!” (Peace)

             Today was probably not the best day to go gift shopping for my American friends.

             The bright sun roasted everyone, with temperatures hitting the 90s once again and the swimming pool crowded with those wanting to cool off.  Taxis were impossible to get due to the  hundreds wanting to escape the heat by not bicycling across town.

             I actually had no choice but to enter into the traffic jams this afternoon.  Today was the third, and last, vaccination appointment for Little Ghost at Dr. Q’s clinic.  Since his animal hospital just happens to be a short 20-minute walk from where I wanted to do my Chinese gift-shopping, it only made sense that I planned to buy presents today. 

            So around 3 p.m., LG and I headed off in a taxi clear across town for her shots and my buying spree.  The traffic was horrendous and it took us 40 minutes but we made it. 

            After LG was taken care of, I left her in her carrier at Dr. Q’s and headed off with money and empty tote for the best Chengdu Chinese shopping place in town:  Antique Flea Market Row, located on a wide main street between Du Fu’s Cottage park museum and the Qing Yang Gong Doaist temple.

            I found this flea market seven years ago when a friend took me there.   It hasn’t changed much since then although the shops have upscaled a bit, not to mention the prices.  It’s located next to one of the many quiet canals that run throughout the city and boasts a display of nick knacks any tourist would be overwhelmed, and overly delighted, to view. 

            There are two narrow rows of shops crowded with a lot of, well, stuff.  The old and the new; the real and the fake.  Here you can find traditional Chinese jade and Tibetan jewelry, embroidered silk fabric from ancient and modern times, hundreds of hand-painted scrolls, Chinese stone name chops made to order, old Chinese money, Chairman Mao paraphernalia, delicate porcelain vases and bowls, silk-screen embroidered pictures, 19^th century wooden furniture and stone sculptures from China’s numerous dynasties. 

            It’s an odd array of jumbled junk but here you can find great bargains and definitely treasures for your American friends or even yourself.

            I had gotten a late start so when I arrived around 4 p.m., many of the small shop owners had already closed up for the day.  Others were flopped on stools or bamboo chairs, their hand-held fans going at full speed as they tried to stay cool on this very slow, stifling hot business day. 

            Usually when a foreigner shows up, and especially as I was the only customer in sight, I’d be accosted by people pulling me toward their wares, snatching up items that might interest, offering prices, and refusing to let me go.  But the unbearable heat, and the fact that my spoken Chinese proved me not to be just another easy-mark, left me pretty much on my own. 

            Although I knew exactly where I wanted to go, it was hard not stopping from time to time just to check out what was being offered.  I really enjoyed the man with the Chinese chops.  Mr. Wang, the owner and chop carver, pulled me in after showing me some of his work.  For $15 and up, he could carve both English and Chinese names into granite chops (seals) of all sizes and shapes.  He could even do designs, such as dragons, pandas, bamboo, phoenixes and other Chinese symbols.  Making and designing chops is not only difficult to do but very few people know how.  It’s becoming a lost art so if you can find someone who does it well, best to take advantage of him or her.

            While chops were a possibility, I stored that bit of information away for another day.  My main goal was to reach Mr. Yang’s scroll and picture cubicle.  I had purchased a few items from him years ago and last month, when I happened to be in the market with NPR’s Art Silverman, I told my artist friend I’d be back next month.  Today was the day.

            Mr. Yang’s scrolls are not the best of the best.  He’s not a famous artist but just one of your basic traditional Chinese picture painters. Still, it beats anything I could ever dream of doing.   

            There were a lot of scenes to choose from:  Pandas, fuzzy Pekingese pooches, tigers, frolicking children, traditionally dressed court women, bamboo stalks, brightly colored flowers, jagged mountains cradling  temples and snaking rivers dotted with fishing sampans.   So difficult to choose when every one was different and unique in its own way. 

            He even had small pictures of water colors as well but the problem with these was the framing.  While he charged only  $1 for each, back in the States, it would cost $20-40 to have one matted and framed properly.  His small scrolls, however, come conveniently rolled up and ready for hanging as soon as they are opened. 

            After choosing 12, we had a short bargaining session to get them down from 40 yuan ($5.70)  to 30 yuan ($4.30) each.  These same scrolls, not even hand-painted but badly printed, I came across in the Chengdu tourist shops for $14. Those created by unknown artists, such as Mr. Wang, sold for $30 and more. 

            As a foreign tourist, if you’re taken to such a shopping trap, $30 would seem reasonable but if you’ve lived here for awhile, you’d know that’s quite outrageous. 

            As I wandered back through the rows, my purchases in hand, I couldn’t help but wonder how much all this traditional Asian stuff would sell in Beijing, where the Olympics are soon to take place.  Thousands of overseas’ spectators and tourists will descend upon the capital, eager to buy something Chinese.  I can just imagine the killing those sellers will make by overcharging these overzealous, excited visitors to their country.  Many foreigners won’t even bother bargaining and will end up paying ridiculous prices for cheap, mass-produced artwork sold as originals or even antiques.

            But then again, if you’re pleased with your purchase, whether you’ve been secretly cheated or not, does it really matter?  You’re happy, the seller’s happy and if you’re buying for friends or relatives, they’re also happy.  Win-win situation all-round.

            In my opinion, that’s a very healthy, positive outlook to embrace when you’re visiting another culture for the first time.   I hope our Olympic spectators take this to heart so they can have a good experience in China and not feel taken advantage of or abused by the locals.

             If you live here, however, best to be an informed consumer.  Be wary, do your comparison shopping, learn to bargain well and definitely buy from those you trust.   Following those guidelines, I’d say for me, today’s gift-buying was a success:  I’m happy, Mr. Yang’s happy and I know my friends and relatives will certainly be happy.  

            Win-win situation all-round.

From Chengdu, “Ping An!” (Peace) to you and yours as you enjoy your week  

             The past three days has had me busy preparing for a class party.

            At the end of every term, I think it’s a nice idea to have a gathering of my classmates in my home as a final farewell before we go our separate ways. Last year’s party was a joyful one as Christmastime had arrived, my class was full of young university students from many different countries and we had grown fairly close over the semester. 

            This semester, however, our group dynamics were a bit different.  We had many older men, mostly from Korea and Japan, with a sprinkling of young Thai girls and a couple of aloof European college guys.  The earthquake dropped my class from 22 down to 8 since quite a few went home so we combined with another intermediate level class to reach a total of about 18 all together.

             Only about 10 of us attended classes on a daily basis.  The rest came and went according to how they felt.

            Despite the rather distant relationship we all had, I still felt it would be nice for a Saturday get-together, especially as Friday was our last class day.  It gave me a great excuse to clean my apartment and an even better one to actually bake something from scratch if you have the right equipment.

            Ovens in China are rare but in most department stores, a person can purchase a table-top oven about the size of a small TV set.  Costs range from $45 on up and, while small, if you enjoy baking, I’d say the purchase is worth it.

            My oven was a gift from a former Amity teacher who returned to her home country.  She’d had it for 4 years before giving it to me.  I’ve had it for 7 years now so it’s had 11 years of great use.

             I only use this oven for Christmas baking or other special occasions.  Mostly, it sits atop the refrigerator and gathers dust until it’s time to pull it down, set it up on the kitchen table and get busy flipping through tried-and-true recipes which can be made in China.  I’m fortunate to have the International Store just around the corner where I can purchase butter or margarine, chocolate chips, powdered sugar, vanilla, cocoa and baking chocolate. 

            Butter and margarine used to be impossible items to find in China but within the past 3 years, I’ve seen them crop up in average chain groceries like the Trust-mart.  They are Chinese brands, however, and while the taste is fairly nasty by itself, in cooked items, they’ll do just fine.

            The only problem with having a small oven is that it takes a long time to make anything.  I spent two evenings preparing chocolate chip, peanut butter and chocolate truffle cookies.  When you can only bake about 10 cookies at a time, it’ll take awhile, believe me.

            For the party, as always, I enlisted the help of Jalin (my 14-year-old neighbor girl) and her friend, Angel (13 years old).  The last time I had a class gathering, I handed out hand-drawn maps of how to get to my place.  Of course, some got lost.  Jalin and Angel’s job had been to go find them after they telephoned for help.  The two also poured drinks and assisted with clean-up afterwards. 
            In exchange for all their hard work, they excitedly had pictures taken with the handsome foreign guys (two Germans and 4 Thai young men), practiced a bit of their English, and taught the Thai girls some Chinese party games and songs. They also ended up taking home quite a few of the goodies that were left over, including the cut-out sugar cookies which were quickly their favorites. 

            Last semester, I knew the party would be a success but with this group, I had no idea about.   When Saturday evening came, and no one but Jalin and Angel had yet showed up 45 minutes after the appointed 6:30 start, I wondered if this was such a good idea or not.

            7:20 finally brought a small group to my door after Jalin went after them.  They’d walked past the apartment complex entrance and were several blocks up the road.  By 8 p.m., everyone who was coming had arrived, including one of my teachers, Ms. Guo (gw-oh) and her new boyfriend. 

            As soon as she entered my apartment, all the Thai girls immediately burst into  squeals of delight that she had brought her special guy friend to meet them.  In fact, he was the only male among all us females (a total of 10) which made him quite the VIP.

            As is the custom in Asia, flowers or fruit are good hostess gifts to bring.  Ms. Guo chose a lovely bunch of fragrant yellow lilies as her gift for me.  Flower shops in China are along every street and the prices, compared to the States, are very cheap.  Lilies run about $1.15 a stem (3 blooms) and roses are about 50 cents each.  Yes, they do have a wonderful smell, unlike those we purchase in the U.S. florist shops.

            The Thai college girls and one older woman from Singapore went for fruit, which I was very grateful to have as I hadn’t bothered with more healthy choices for the party.   Fruit gifts are meant to be shared right away with others so I sent Jalin and Angel off into the kitchen to prepare those items for serving, one being lichee and the other apricots. 

            The most popular in-season fruit now is the lichee, which is actually quite famous in Luzhou where (they say) the best lichee are grown.  Lichee is a tree fruit about the size of a ping-pong ball.  It’s encased in a rough, thin, bark-like covering which you easily peel away with your fingers to reveal the juicy, watery, white, succulent middle. There’s a pit so be careful if you bite down on it.

            Lichee now is at its plumpest but soon, as the next few weeks wear on, the size of the fruit will become much smaller. We buy lichee in tied-together bunches with the stems still attached or singly, just with the fruit itself. Currently, bunches sell for about 5 yuan (70 cents) a pound.  The loose fruit lichee is a bit cheaper because the selections are not as nice.

            While my Asian classmates brought the traditional Asian hostess gifts, my American classmate Hanna did what most Americans would do:  She prepared more goodies. 

            Her rice-crispy treats were probably the hottest item on the table.  Because no one had ever seen these before, they were a bit hesitant by their gooey appearance. Hanna and I had a bit of work ahead of us prying the sticky squares away from one another and off the foil they were placed on.  I admit, if I didn’t know what they were, I’d have been wary of them, too.  But after everyone politely tried a bite of one, their faces lit up and the room filled with exclamations of, “Hao chi!  Hao chi!” (Very good!  Very good!). 

            Second and third helpings had Hanna’s treats gone within 30 minutes.

            By 9:30 p.m., people were ready to go.  We had numerous group pictures taken, with the help of Ms. Guo’s male companion, and then said our farewells. 

            So after three days of cleaning the apartment, baking and decorating, was it worth it for such a small crowd?   Take a look at our party pictures and judge for yourself.

            From Chengdu, here’s wishing you “Ping An”  (Peace)