Time to play

Short and sweet:


1. Christmas was great--just a relaxing time with the other American teachers. Lots of food, movies, games, and loafing--just as it should be.


2. My gracious thanks to those of you who have given money for the orphanage. I have continually been moved by the love and kindness of those around me--friends, family, students. It's amazing how He works through anyone to accomplish his tasks. The outpouring of kindness and love from my students, most of whom have no...religious "convictions" (shall I say?), has been incredible. They have not lived in the climate of religiosity like most of us, yet that has not stopped them from giving selflessly: giving money, knitting hats and scarves, donating clothes and school supplies, and even helping me organize a fundraiser. Amazing. They are filled with love too.


3. Now for the best part: I'm going away for a while. 


Two months, actually. 


Yup, I get a two-month winter vacation. Not bad. Do you know what else is not so bad? I'll be spending that time with some good friends in Indonesia and Thailand. After spending New Years in Bali, we'll visit Java, Sulawesi, and Malaysian Borneo (basically the most beautiful place on Earth. Amazing jungles AND amazing reefs/ocean life. Remember the "Jungles" episode from Planet Earth? Remember how most of the episode was shot in Indonesia? Yeah, that's where I'm going!). 


After Indonesia, we'll head to Chiang Mai, Thailand, and then a bit more wandering near Bangkok and southern Thailand.


I don't think life get's much better. I am so excited.


Of course, these means you will hear nothing from me for two months. But rest assured, I'll have about 3000 photos to share when I return. So look forward to that. 


Until later.

The best night of my life

There comes a point in one's life when he realizes life doesn't get any better. For some, maybe it's when they get married, or have their first child. For others, the day the Cubs win the World Series (which will be soon, I promise). For me, it came tonight: Christmas caroling in China.

There were nine of us American teachers spreading the Christmas cheer, wandering from one dorm to the next, standing outside as we sang Christmas carols to our students inside. 

 Braving the -9º  weather (that's ºC, not ºF, folks), we sang for about an hour and a half. Some of the taller, lankier, less-appealing members donned Santa suits.

The best part of the whole evening was the reaction we got. Unbelievable. Probably the most joyful and happy thing I've had the privilege to experience--I just wish I could capture even a fraction of the experience for you. Alas, I'll try anyway: upon our arrival to each dorm, we announced our presence with an angelic horn (uh, or a trumpet that one of the other teachers accompanied our singing with). Like little foxes popping out of their cozy little hole to investigate the odd sounds they just heard, the windows of the dorms would fill with the faces of the eight curious occupants inside, peeking out from behind the closed curtains. Soon the windows would open and the girls would all be piled on top of one another, positioning for a good view. As we sang, scores and scores of students watched from their windows, waving and yelling "Merry Christmas!" as we sang. 

And then they came. Crowds of curious, happy, laughing, surprised, happy, curious Chinese girls poured out of the dorms once they realized we were there to stay for a while:

This is just of fraction of the audience at this dorm. Moments later, we had a crowd about three times this big encircling us. It didn't take long before the word spread and students emptied from other dorms too. Fortunately, this was our last stop, because we were swamped with picture requests. My Santa suit was something of a novelty, so you can imagine the picture requests with "Santa" were more than I could handle--but I loved it. The students loved it. They were so excited, and so were we.

It really was (and still is) indescribable. The students (pretty much 100% girls, since the campus is 90% girls anyway and the boys don't generally seem to care as much about these sorts of things) were so happy and excited to see us. They loved our Santa hats. They loved my Santa costume. They just couldn't believe what they were witnessing. I really felt like a rockstar. 

We even had groupies for a while. These students followed us for a bit before the cold was too much for them.

 The students also brought gifts when they came out to see us. By the end of the evening, we all had our hands full of things the students had given us. This isn't a rare thing either--the Chinese will give gifts all the time, usually food of some kind, and it's often spontaneous. Whenever I run into students walking around campus and they have some kind of food (usually an apple or orange) they will always give it to me. Always. This is one of the more endearing things, in my opinion. They just give. They give and give. It doesn't matter if it's the only one they have left--they will give me that last orange if they see me on the path to class. And so it goes with this caroling: the girls brought us gifts of food. I love it. 

 Here I display a few of the gifts I got: s sucker, some glow-sticks, and yes, a carrot. The oranges I also had received are out of view. 

I can't wait to do this again tomorrow (and neither can the students. Word quickly spread about our musical escapades and the whole campus is abuzz. They will be ready for us when we come again, since tonight we caught them off-guard). It's a little frustrating that I can't fully convey the experience through this blog. Just know that this has to be one of my greatest memories, and not just for China. This is one of my greatest memories, ever. I will not forget this, ever. 

Ever.

I think what I loved about it all was the pure joy and elation that the students showed. They were so happy to see us. They couldn't wish us Merry Christmas! enough times. When we sang "Jingle Bells" they all joined in, since that's really the only Christmas song they know, and I was so excited to be sharing this part of Christmas with the students. As Christmas is still very foreign to China, the students are always excited to learn more and participate in celebrating with us. They love learning about American holidays, and it has been a joy to share Thanksgiving and Christmas with them. Ah...

I'll stop, because I'll just keep going if I don't.

Can you tell this was an experience that I enjoyed just a little? 

And now on to other Christmassy things.

Earlier this month, I invited some of my students over to my apartment to help decorate it for Christmas. In my naiveté, I assumed my students would be eager to learn about how Americans decorate so that they could then decorate my apartment just like I normally would at home in the States. They had other plans: 

 The Christmas tree I made. Yup. Nothing but yarn and parts of other, non-Christmas trees. Who says I can't be crafty?

After the students have had their way. They even made a star to go on top. 

According to my students, the firework-looking explosions hanging from my ceiling were for sale in a local shop, marked "Christmas tree." Naturally, when they purchased the items, they assumed a Christmas tree is what they bought. I set the record straight. 

 You see the various paper creations the students assembled and hung from the yarn. Quite the collection of paper and its various artistic uses.

The traditional "balloon face" that I enjoy making each year. Oh, this isn't a part of your Christmas decor? That's a shame. The nose and freckles are hearts and butterflies with my students' names written on them.

No, the decor is not of the traditional variety, but I like it. Bright colors and flashy, shiny things. Very Chinese. Very. And that's why I like it. I'm in China, so I might as well have Christmas with Chinese characteristics.

 In these two pictures, my students are gazing at the pictures on my computer. They are enthralled with any and all of my pictures. My one regret in life is that I didn't have a video camera to record their reaction when they first came to my apartment, since I have scores and scores of pictures hung around and they were amazed and excited at the sight. They entered and immediately set about discovering every picture, followed by a chorus of oohs and ahs. They also traveled in clumps, which is another favorite characteristic of the Chinese. They will clump and cluster--squeezed next to one another because personal bubbles don't exist here--and stare intently and curiously at anything that isn't Chinese. These photos demonstrate the clumping well. 

More Christmas things:

I did my final lesson on Christmas. I taught my students about both the cultural traditions (i.e., Santa, elves, et al.) and the original, true story of Christmas. At one point I had them drawing pictures either about Santa and his ilk or about the Christmas story. I decided that you needed to seem some of them yourself:

Artistry and concept ranged from the rather skilled...

...to the not-so-skilled...

...to the, ah, abstract:

Some boasted rather liberal interpretations of the Christmas story:

Others chose a more modern take:

A few others:

 The indispensable yet highly under-represented Elf Mice and North Pole Starfish.

 Timeless Santa

Avant-garde Santa

Minimalist Santa

Floating baby Jesus 

Why the single curly hair?

 Not really sure

My favorite picture. Possibly disturbing, always thought-provoking.

Without blabbing for pages, I will say that I've enjoyed this Christmas season despite it's non-existence here. Not being surrounded by Christmas on the street, in the store, or while watching TV has made it difficult to "feel" Christmas, but it's been a fine experience. I actually don't miss it so much--at least the commercialized parts. I do miss snow and carols and advent, but in their stead I get these drawn pictures, my home-made tree, and mobs of students asking for pictures with me/Santa. You can't buy things like that. 


And my students have been so wonderful and generous and loving and great during this time. Many have given me gifts for Christmas, some of which have been very thoughtful. They care so much for me, and I really love them--they're my little darlings. I was very sad to teach my last lesson, knowing that I will not be their teacher again (unless the school decides to keep me as their teacher next term and not assign me different classes....which I really, really hope they do). With one class (and not so surprisingly my favorite class), when I had finished the lesson early and dismissed them with about five minutes before the official end of class, they just sat there. They didn't move. They didn't say anything. They just....waited. They were so sad that it was all over and didn't want to leave. I had just told them that this might be our last lesson together, ever, and they were visibly upset. I explained multiple times that I was finished early and they could leave, yet still they did not move. So I just let them stay there. I didn't say anything, and neither did they. We all just stayed there...but it wasn't awkward. It was really special. 


I won't forget that either.


And I won't forget this Christmas. It's been full of unique and entertaining experiences, most of which I'll never have time to write, but you can always know that I'm having an amazing time every day. I know this post is long (well, I guess they all are), but there was just so much I couldn't not tell you. Plus there's a bunch of things I just wanted to get into the blog before I go on my two-month winter vacation. (Yup. More on that later.) So please excuse this long ramble of a post as I try to formulate some type of closure, now that my first semester in China is already done. 


That's nuts. I hope life slows down just a little...because I'd like China to last just a little bit longer. 

This one's for the kids

I go to Beijing every month. 

No, I haven't seen the Forbidden City. Or Tiananmen Square. Or anything famous, really. 

They're great sights, and I'm sure someday I'll see them--but I don't go to Beijing for those things. Every month, I join a group of other American teachers to visit an orphanage. This was one of the ideas of another teacher from my program; she was in China last Spring for a short trip and worked closely with this particular orphanage. She was so moved by the experience that she decided to move to China as an English Teacher so that she could spend more time at the orphanage. This is why she came to China for the year.

That was a pretty clear message to me--that a place, that the experience there was so powerful that she would spend at least a year living in a (very) foreign country to experience more and give more. When she told the other American teachers in our program that she'd be going to visit each month, I figured that was something I needed to be a part of. 

So here I am, after three visits, feeling the way she does about the place. (Maybe. I don't know--I'm not her. Whatever.) I've gone each month, I'll be going again in a week, and I'll continue going until I leave this place or die or both (yes, both). 

Our first visit in September was my first visit to an orphanage of any kind. It made me wonder why I had never done it before. Laziness, probably. Or indifference. Or maybe it's just easier to "deal" with difficult social/national issues and problems when you're in someone else's backyard.

I vividly remember the first visit, especially seeing the incredible joy that filled the children when they saw and recognized my teacher friend who'd been there in the Spring. They ran to her arms. I'd never had a child run into my arms before, and seeing that scene was powerful to me. I instantly realized why children--especially Chinese children--are so beautiful (and sometimes stinky, but still mostly beautiful). They had such joy and excitement. And they wasted no time--we played right away. We played games. We laughed. We ate food. We did all the things children should do. They are happy children because they are loved. 

Sadly, this does not appear to be the norm. I fully realize that the problem of neglected orphans extends beyond China, as orphanages in any country are depressing places to be sure (with many notable exceptions of course), but Chinese ones seem to have a particular brokenness. My discussions with others about their personal experiences have painted a desolate picture, but it's hard to gauge; I haven't seen any truly disparaging scenes with my own eyes, and I may never see such things. As a foreigner (and thus, de facto judge of Chinese civility, humaneness, and dignity), I have to suspect that some things shown to me will be veiled. The challenge is always knowing which things I see and experience genuinely, and which things have a foreign-friendly facade of aesthetics and morals. My visit to a different "orphanage" in Qinhuangdao this last Saturday was a mystifying experience, mostly because I have reasons to believe many of the children--the suspiciously happy and well-dressed children--weren't actually orphans. I have a strong inkling that there's a whole secret world of orphanages that someone of my status will never see. 


But maybe I'm wrong. I must admit I am speculating, so I should be careful. I will say, however, that many Chinese orphans are often not technically orphans--their parents just don't want them. Many are rejected by the parents because they have a physical or mental condition. Others suffered debilitating or distorting accidents or diseases. I won't pretend to know what cultural or societal reasons would compel a person to reject their own flesh and blood (nor should you), but I can assume that being rejected by your parents has to be one of the most agonizing experiences a child might endure. 

Yet despite that, these children are filled with joy. They are loved, and they are cared for. At this particular orphanage, they receive mostly children with mental and physical conditions, largely because this Beijing orphanage is known for the incredible love and care that the children receive, not to mention a relatively high adoption rate. It is certainly a special orphanage in this regard. While it is not the only orphanage in China to provide such (relatively) positive environs for orphans (albeit still quite nominal), it is of a rare quality--few exist like it. And I think I can say that for almost any country, not just China. Regardless, it is a mixed bag: these particular children are in the best place possible for them as far as orphanages go, yes, but what about all the other Chinese orphans? Especially the ones with mental or physical conditions? What will they do? What will happen?


I know a few answers. I know that once a child turns a certain age (14, if I recall), he or she comes under the legal guardianship of China. That's a euphemistic way of saying the child will be taken from the orphanage and put into a "labor preparatory school." That's not the name, but I don't really know what else to call it. It's a place where a child can be turned into a factory drone. 


My mind is tempted to make lots of accusations. Accusations about this country, this government, these people. I'm angry about this. I'm confused. I'm bewildered. But I can't (and won't) allow myself to blame or hate. I can't allow myself to point fingers. I must remember that 99% of the people in this country are incredibly kind, gentle, and loving. I must love the few people who would treat a child like a disposable commodity. (And I will quickly point out that every country has big problems in one way or another, not just China. I'm certain that other countries also have this issue with desolate orphanage conditions and parents abandoning children. I'd bet similar things happen in the U.S.--to a different extent, perhaps--but it's not just China with abysmal conditions.) 


My first step is to understand. I've gleaned some understanding from the orphanage director, and other teachers, and I will continue to add more to my experience. I am curious, and somewhat apprehensive, to see what I discover. It helps me to remember that everyone, everywhere has problems. The U.S. has some pretty big problems too that make me frustrated and sad. China has many wonderful and beautiful things. I must remember to discover and ponder both. It also helps to think about the kids. They are proof that He exists. I see their smiles and forget (as I think they do too) that they are orphans. It doesn't matter that I don't know enough Chinese and they don't know enough English. It doesn't matter that I'm from the U.S. and they are from China. There's something ineffable about the moments there. 

Perhaps these pictures can say more than I can:

This is my favorite little girl--she calls me "big brother."

Probably the cutest thing I've ever seen. (Kristin, another teacher friend, is there on the right.)

Tim, teacher friend, with the rambunctious boy known affectionately as "Bruiser."

My favorite little boy. I snapped this shot looking down as he clenched my legs. You can't buy things like this.

Same boy. Look at that smile. 

I am discovered with my camera. Curiosity ensues. 

Bruiser beckons me to come play with him. I oblige.  

I am starting to fall in love with China. It has problems, like any country, and I will sort them out as best as I can. This post isn't meant to bash China. It's meant to engage the abysmal circumstances. Every country has them--I just happen to see China's because I live here. A Chinese person living in the U.S. would certainly have some troubling things they could blog about too. But really, this post is about the kids. They are in need, and I'm going to use my blog to help. 


Here's the part where I ask you for money. 


For Christmas, the other teachers and I want to get gifts for the children, mostly because they have nothing. Also because they have nothing. Some of the gifts will include proper winter clothing, other gifts will be toys. But we need your help, and more specifically, your money. I won't beg. I won't plea. I won't be mad if you don't. All I can do is ask. So please, consider a gift to these children. 


If you'd like, you can send money to me via my PayPal account since this is infinitely easier than any other way. This does require that you have a PayPal account yourself, but setting one up is quick and easy and simple and good and really? you don't have five minutes for the kids? and it's useful because you can use your new account for lots of other things too. When sending money through PayPal, you'll be asked to include the recipient's email. Just put my gmail address (justin.crull@gmail.com) and you're all set. 


Should you desire, you can also donate to the orphanage directly by going to their website. This money wouldn't go toward Christmas gifts, but it is always needed because the orphanage is not state-run, meaning all funding comes from private sources. Perhaps this is a way you can give in the future? Think about it. 


It has been a changing experience to visit these children each month. They are a reminder that life is still beautiful and full of worthwhile things. They are a humble reminder that I'm pretty darn fortunate to have the things I have (thanks, Dad and Mom...and America). They are a reminder that I have no right to complain. And they are a reminder that the best things in life, the most powerful and beautiful things, just might be the least of these. He was on to something, that one guy. You know what I mean. 

Welcome Foreing Teacher to our school

No, that's how they spelled "foreign" on the banner.

I noticed it hanging above the entrance while we were taking pictures in front of the building. The kids were still milling about, some making last-ditch efforts to gain my attention--or at least to get the candy I had in my pocket. I can't say I felt used, although there isn't a better way to describe it, really. 

I should back up.

Two weeks ago, the head liaison (and quasi-friend) from the Dept. of Foreign Affairs at my school asked me if I could do him a favor. "A friend of a friend is opening an English school, and he wants a foreign English teacher there." I knew where this was going, but I thought it'd be an adventure, something I knew I could tell friends and family and therapists about later. So I said yes. 

In China, this means several things. It means I'm doing my liaison friend a favor, because his friend is helping his friend who is helping his friend. It also means that my liaison friend's friend is getting a favor from me, because his friend's quasi-friend is helping his other friend. I'm helping this friend too (the friend of the friend of the quasi-friend) because I'm going to be at his school. Simple. 

This is called guanxi. In short, it's the complex network of relationships established between businessmen, officials, coworkers, and acquaintances in China. Basically, it's how you get anything done, particularly in the business world. Your success in China depends on good guanxi--it's all about who you know and how you use it. And it can get thick. Complex. Intricate. Need a visual? Just take a look at this picture below:

It's a picture of the central metabolic pathways in humans (yes, nerdy biology reference). I chose this because I can think of little else in this world that displays a more complex, incomprehensible, convoluted set of connections. This is the sort of mess I imagine guanxi might look like if it were mapped out (and then multiplied a few hundred million times). Or perhaps this other picture gives you the idea:

Again, another nerdy biology reference (the connections in some bacterial protein-DNA genomic pathways, I think). You get the point--guanxi is an impossibly elaborate web of connections. 

Another thing you should know about the request to "have a foreign English teacher" at this school is that it perfectly illustrates a common Chinese mindset: as long as it looks good. No matter if it's built on mis-representations or shoddy workmanship or lies--if it looks good on the outside, it doesn't matter what it's like on the inside. And you see this manifest itself everywhere. All these new apartment buildings, everywhere, are empty--but at least it looks good for "progress" to have lots of new buildings constantly popping up!... This building is five years old, but looks like it's 20 years old inside, but no matter! We just painted the outside... Tackle the major civic and social ills? No, let's pour all our time and money into redoing the highway, again and again. Foreigners use this road!

And so it goes with that school. Never mind I've never been to this English school, nor heard of it until two weeks ago. Never mind I teach college students in a class of 20-30, not 10-12-year-olds in a group of 100. If there's a foreigner there when the parents come by, it'll look good. Why it seems that no one will question these sort of things, I don't know. Hey, what happened to the foreigner? Wasn't there a foreigner who was going to be teaching here? (The response: What?! What gave you that impression? Because the first time you came here to this new English school you saw your child being taught by a foreign English teacher? You assumed that meant the teacher worked here? Your mistake!)

I'm used to it though. That's why schools all over the country (including my college), from primary up to college, hire foreign teachers like me. You think it's because they want us to teach their students English? Maybe. Often it's mostly, if not entirely, about looking good. A school has a good reputation--swagger, if you will--if it has foreign teachers. But it only has to "have" them. That doesn't mean they care about what or how the foreigners teach. Sometimes I feel like a show horse, but I don't care. I came here to build relationships with students, and that's exactly what being a teacher here allows me to do. And to be honest, I like having complete, absolute autonomy in my classroom. I can do anything I want. Anything. (But I still take the job seriously, of course. I'm hitting those students with some knowledge.)

So back to Saturday morning, that day of the favor. The man who owns the school and his friend (the friend of my liaison friend) picked me up at my apartment building in a van and drove me the 30 minutes to his school. 

Mr. Shi, the friend of the school owner: "So you were told about the two hour lesson you'll be teaching, right?"

Me: "Ah, no. No one told me that." Even after I had explicitly asked my quasi-friend what I'd be expect to do. When I did, he gave me a wishy-washy fizzle of an answer. But I'm not surprised that something like this happened. 

Let me elaborate. Many Chinese (or at least from what I've seen) have this incredible knack for not really explaining, at all, what certain favors or requests entail. Things like this. Things that would normally require significant preparation. Many Chinese also have a knack for asking people to do things on the spot. Things like sing a song in front of 300 people, or, in this case, teach a two-hour lesson to a group of 100 10-12-year-olds with no preparation and zero experience in that area of teaching. I don't get it. I just don't. And I feel like it happens a lot to foreigners. Maybe I'm coming from a very biased perspective (well, not maybe. I am coming from a biased perspective), but I sometimes wonder if many Chinese have this misconception that foreigners can just simply do anything at any time with no preparation required (which we can't). I've resolved to learn a repertoire of songs I can refer to when I'm asked to sing for a group of people (which happens all the time. The Chinese LOVE singing. They love, love, love it. Specifically, they love asking others to sing for them. Even more specifically, they seem to love asking foreigners to sing to them). I've learned how to read group dynamics and can usually gauge when I'm in an environment that will yield singing requests. I've also learned to pre-empt such public singing disasters by clearly explaining up front that I will not be singing, no matter what. 

Look, I like singing. I do. But not like this. Not an impromptu solo without accompaniment in front of a large crowd, most of whom wouldn't fully appreciate "Let It Be"--or the one verse that I can remember, at least. 

I digress. Back to the van:

Mr. Shi: "Yeah, you'll be teaching a group of students. Not a big problem. Just talk to them. Maybe you can play games."

Me: "Ah, ok. How old are the kids? And what's their skill level with English?"

Mr. Shi: "They're 10-12 years old. Their English is, uh, maybe it's only a little. Like maybe what you'd have after just a little bit of English study. Maybe two years? Something like that."

I assumed it was too much to ask that I'd have time to prepare. My mind raced to think of what I might do, but my wealth of teaching topics is geared toward college-age students in a class of 20-30 students. Will they have paper and pens? Will I have a blackboard? Will I even have a classroom? 

The answer to these questions was no. I walked into the medium-sized room and found a group of children who had been waiting just for me. All fears aside, I was excited to see 100 or so Chinese children cheering and smiling at the sight of a foreigner. They kind of went nuts--in a good way. I felt like a rockstar. Kids are the best, ever.  

But then everyone was watching me, waiting for me to do something. Fortunately, one of the teachers soon approached me and informed me that she had a few plans. Unfortunately, those "plans" were as follows:

1. Teach the kids some words.  

2. Teach the kids some sentences. Maybe about food?

3. Teach the kids colors. 

4. Play a game where you point to colors and the kids say the correct word. 

5. Teach them some words for body parts. 

6. Play a game about body parts, like the one with the colors. 

7. Teach them some new words. Maybe about sports?

8. Play a game: act out the sport and have the kids guess.

9. Break

10. Repeat the words and sentences from before.

11. Sing the ABCs.

12. Take pictures with students. 

The whole time I'm standing in the middle of this crowd of mystified children. Is it really a foreigner? How will my excitement, confusion, joy, and/or awe about this foreigner be manifested physically or verbally? What should I do with this?

At first they listened and repeated, awe-struck. Then they settled back into the normal habits of childhood: short attention-spans and a need for attention. Those that didn't check out and migrate to the outer edges of the blob of children inched ever so close to me, desperately hoping I'd chose them to be the volunteer in the game. Their earnest looks, coupled with their silent but powerfully inquisitive gazes, made it difficult for me to remain focused. I'd have much rather just stared at their beautiful little faces. 

This was the moment I decided that Chinese children are the most beautiful things I've ever seen. All hyperboles aside, I can't believe how cute this kids are. There's something about a tiny, silent, deep-eyed little Chinese girl staring back at your that makes you believe there is nothing wrong with the world. 

But then the ugly side reared it's head. 

During the break, "questions for the foreigner" gave way to "get a signed piece of paper from the foreigner," which gave way to "crowd around the foreigner in hordes," which gave way to "push and shove and do what it takes to get to the foreigner." I was surrounded by scores of loud children, some of them pulling my arms and shirt, each holding out a piece of paper for me to sign--or that's what I had assumed. I figured they wanted me to write something in English, and so I did initially with noble intent: "Hello! My name is Justin. It's nice to meet you!" To meet the needs of this horde, and because I couldn't possibly write that much legibly while I was being jostled and pulled at, I quickly shortened my words. Sixty-seven children now have a piece of paper that reads: "Hello! Justin." 

Reflecting on this moment, I am a little disappointed. The peaceful, beautiful innocence of their faces and demeanor quickly gave way to a darker side, an uglier side. Shoving, elbowing, and pushing became the method of choice for so many. Where did their softness go? Who were those yelling little kids crowding around me? A lack of civility isn't quite how I'd describe it, but I wonder what else would. Are children even old enough to exhibit civility or the lack thereof? Why did these children so quickly surrender their better selves? Where does one learn this behavior? Is it learned and then it eventually takes over a natural disposition to be gentler? Or are we naturally this rough and only defeat it by learning to live gently instead? 

Maybe I am just saddened that someone so young, someone too young to act like a selfish and cold adult, was exactly that (ah, except for the adult part). But I suppose it doesn't always matter what ugly looks like. Ugly is ugly. 

After the "lesson" finished we knocked out a few pictures of me with the kids (which will probably end up on all their promotional publications or something), I was given the brief tour and said goodbye to the kids. I wouldn't say they were sad to see me go. More like, they were loud to see me go. I just heard lots of yelling. And some renewed attempts to get my autograph...and a few attempts to snag the leftover candy in my pocket I had from the games earlier. 

I don't regret the experience. I did enjoy it and I learned a lot, especially about these types of schools, which are fairly common in China. I'm always looking for insights on the Chinese psyche as well, and this experience was certainly a mind-full. It's amazing what things you can learn when you spend enough time living in a place. Even so, the complexity of the Chinese people and their culture is still such a mystery to me. I find myself constantly asking "why?" Things never make sense. There's even a saying: If it doesn't make sense, you must be in China. You wouldn't believe how often I think of that. 

And despite its grand mysteries, its perplexing attitudes, its mindsets, behaviors, and smells, I can't leave. I won't leave. There is something about this place that keeps me coming back for more. Yes, things are frustrating and annoying and aggravating sometimes, but that's just the way my life is going to be while I live in another country. And for every one of these difficult moments, there are just as many wonderful and amazing moments. Skimming through this post, and through previous posts, I realize that a sometimes cynical, pointed, or snarky tone emerges. (Only sometimes, right?) It may seem that I only write about the crazy, strange, upsetting, frustrating things. I suppose that's true. I don't spend so much time writing about the normal experiences. The experiences that don't paint China as a sometimes nutty and backwards place. I should do a better job, but let's be honest--that doesn't always make for the most interesting or humorous writing. And when you experience the crazy things I do in this country, you have to write about it. It's therapy. 

So I say "Meh" and move on. It's part of living in China. It's part of the adventure. 

Reasons never to hire a car service in China

1. You will probably have a near-death experience.

2. If you don't have a near-death experience, you will come close.

3. Either way, death will be on your mind most of the trip.

I reached these conclusions recently, after experiencing most of the above. Let me tell you the tale.

We (a group of American teachers/friends) were headed to Beijing for the weekend. We'd normally take the train, but due to station renovations, the only two train stations in Qinhuangdao are both closed until next Summer. Nice one, boys. Way to leave the 2.7 million people in our city essentially stranded.

Anyway, we were searching for an alternate way to get to Beijing, since the train (you know, the primary mode of transportation for 99.9% of the city, the easiest way for moving the most people, the best way to get to anywhere from Qinhuangdao...can you tell this absolute lack of planning and foresight is a little frustrating?!) was not a feasible option. We had heard about a car service that could take us to Beijing for about 115 RMB a head--only about 20 RMB more than the train would have cost. Not bad--or so we thought.

The car service, and the cars, were illegal, which is to say they weren't registered, the plates were fake, and they certainly weren't allowed to be charging people for rides. And we should have known. Some of our Chinese friends had warned us the car service we solicited was probably illegal. We weren't exactly sure what this might have meant, but we thought it'd be "fun" to do anyway. It'd be an adventure--the kind of thing we could tell our children someday when they told us they wanted to travel abroad, and we'd be reminded of the days when we were young and adventurous. We'd have time to pen the first draft of the story from our hospital beds. 

And these hospital beds would be full of folks like us since this sort of thing--the illegal car service--is very common in China. Everyone knows these services exist, but no one seems to do anything about it, nor do they seem to care. It's like getting music from your roommate's computer and putting on your own. Tons of people do it, no one seems to care, and there's virtually no one "out there" to stop it. 

So anyway, here we are (the eight of us) hopping in these two cars, moments away from what could only be described as a near-death experience...prolonged over 6 hours. Words cannot describe to you in sufficient detail the conditions of this journey, but let me lay out for you the broad dimensions and I'll let you paint the whole picture for yourself:

1. Traffic laws in China don't really exist. Sure, they exist on paper (I think), but let me ask you: is a law really a law if no one enforces it? That was a leading question. No one enforces anything regarding traffic laws--or at least that's the case for the multiple police cars we just absolutely flew past. But maybe they were busy. One police car was busy littering, another car was busy using his lights/siren (probably) for the sole purpose of going faster than the situation necessitated. I'm convinced that the only laws of Chinese traffic are the laws of physics, which is a nerdy way of saying that the physical limits of gravity, aerodynamics, and thermodynamics are the only forces keeping vehicles from achieving what their operators would hope and dream.  

2. Drivers have various skills.

3. Drivers operate vehicles of various maneuverability, safety, and stability.

4. An unsettlingly high number of drivers will maneuver, without ration or conscience, to the point of the road that they see fit, regardless of anything behind them or to the side of them. Cutting others off frequently is only a natural part of driving.  

5. Higher speed does not equal higher risks. It equals not letting anything in life hold you down.

6. Safety apparently ranks among the following on many drivers' list of worldly concerns: running out of cooking oil, running out of toothpaste, getting a paper cut, oversleeping. 

7. Hired drivers must, must simultaneously do two or more of the following: smoke (what, you think it matters that they have paying customers?); talk on a cell phone; listen to music that can only be described as the strongest known evidence for arguing we live in a broken and completely fallen world; talk to the passengers.  

I'll spare you the details, but I will say that I've now had a near-death experience. Twice. (Don't forget the trip back from Beijing.) Near the end of our trip to Beijing, when my adrenaline had run out and I lost the ability to fear or feel pain, I reached a point of acceptance. Like, hey this isn't so bad...it's kind of like Mario Cart. You can just fly around and it doesn't really matter if you almost hit stuff. It doesn't really matter how crazy things get--as long as you get there as quickly as possible. Watch out for bananas!

On the way to Beijing, our driver did slow down, and even stop, for three reasons: 1. When traffic was at a stand-still for 20 minutes because of an absolutely terrible multiple-vehicle accident that, without any doubt in my mind, killed probably everyone involved (and yes, we saw the completely obliterated vehicles. No, we did not see the people involved, for which I am glad. Seeing those bodies would have emotionally scarred me for life); 2. When we hit the notoriously awful Beijing traffic, which was a large reason why the trip took six hours and not three like it should have; 3. when we went through the toll plazas. Without paying. 

That was kind of fun, I'll admit. Maybe because it gave me something exciting to think about other than death. It's fun to vicariously break the law too. And this wasn't the "slap on the wrist for you! Just pay the 50 cents online within two weeks, no big deal" kind of toll skipping. This was the "we will arrest you if we catch you" kind of skipping. Well, maybe they wouldn't arrest us for skipping the toll, but they surely would have when they discovered the cars and the car service were illegal. Exciting.

Aside from more toll hopping, the trip home was much less eventful...save the last 20 minutes. These last 20 minutes were perhaps the closest to death I've ever felt in my life. You see, we hit some fog. Bad fog. The worst fog I've ever seen in my life. The kind of fog that gives you five feet of visibility. The kind of fog that makes a normal person stop the car and say, "Of course I'm not driving in this!) And of course, we keep on truckin'. At a reduced speed, yes, but truckin' nonetheless. Not to worry though, because our driver had "done this plenty of times before." My chief concern wasn't so much that we'd run off the highway. It was that we'd smash into the back of one of the many trucks in China that have no working tail-lights. (Lights are a luxury, really. An option. They might be useful in some situations (e.g., night), but not all the time. And that's headlights we're talkin'. Tail-lights are really for the straight-and-narrow goody-goodies. The "weak" fellas.) 

Retrospectively, I can recall that my fear at this time progressed through several stages, leaving me with the following thoughts: 1. I might get hurt; 2. I will get hurt--if not physically, then certainly emotionally; 3. No, I will be hurt physically; 4. Actually, I might die; 5. I will die; 6. Somehow, I didn't die.

So we got our adventure. And hey, after therapy, we can learn to laugh about it. Looks like my first visit to a Chinese hospital will have to wait.