Sheepish Gratitude

One of the bright points during the transition to cold weather was our

opportunity to try out our "cold weather gear." i must preface this by

explaining my preparation (or lack thereof) the last time I spent a

year teaching in China.

Last time I was almost completely caught off guard for the winter

conditions in China. In case you didn't know, the Chinese don't

believe in central heating and air (or maybe they do, they're just to

money concious to consider it an efficient use of energy). Most

buildings are poured concrete structures with tile or concrete floors

and single-layer glass windows ( as I noted I. My previous post, the

cold just creeps into your body from the walls and floors).

The Chinese also have some interesting views on winter weather. "Wear

more clothes (usually pronounced like 'closes')" and, "drink more hot

water" are two expressions they learn and remind each other of from a

very early age. Evidently, these two mantras promote good health

during cold months. However, "heat the building" and "stay inside" are

not a part of tbis philosophy. Instead they adhere to another

expression, "breathe more fresh air" to keep from getting sick or

catching a cold.

The end result of all these combined views of cold and health

contributed to my experience in the classroom. Frequently, once class

begins I close the doors a d windows to the room, so we can at least

be warmed by bodyheat (everyone keeps their coats, scarves, hats, and

gloves on during class). That is, until one student gets up in the

middle of class and announces "we need more fresh air," and opens the

windows allowing the cold wind to gust in and the heat to escape, all

at their classmates approval.

My previous firsthand experience of this was miserable. I had only

packed a couple of hooded sweatshirts and a light jacket for the

winter months (fortunately I received some baselayer undershirts and

warm socks from my family in the mail for Christmas, and a fellow

teacher let me borrow his spare carhart jacket).

This time however was much better. Rebecca and I invested quite a bit

in a variety of merino wool baselayer, shirts, and sweaters. I am

convinced this material (merino wool) is God's gift to people who

travel in winter. It's light, easy to pack and layer, and WARM! Every

few days was like Christmas for us as we unpacked (and sometimes cut

off the tags!) of these warm items that we packed in the heat of

summer. It was definitely a high point among the dulling chills that

winter provided

Weather Affects... (yes, "affects" is intentional)

It stormed pretty hard last Monday. A thunderstorm blew into town like

nothing I had ever seen before. Our friends, Stan and Juliane were at

our apartment with me when suddenly, the sky turned green, then dark-

it was about 3:30 in the afternoon. I've always been told a green sky

means tornado weather, but I'm pretty sure this one was a result of

rain mixing with the smoggy haze of pollution.

The rest or the week was a cold, dreary mess of winter rain. It really

took its toll on morale around our house. Getting up early for work

was hard, and getting out in the cold was harder. We spent more time

thinking about the central heating we used to enjoy back home, as well

as travellng everywhere in our cars- only being exposed to cold and

rain long enough to walk the driveway or parking lot to or from our

cars. Instead of taking those things for granted, our focus had

shifted to doing eveything we could to keep dry and warm.

The cold seems to just creep into your body from the concrete walls

and floors of the buildings, regardless of the layers of clothing you

have on. When teaching, you often see and hear students- bundled in

their warmest attire- stomping the floor to shake away the cold,

clutching their glass or plastic tumblers of hot water or tea to

protect their hands.

The weather coupled with the shortened days of winter definitely takes

a toll on those of us softened by the luxuries of our American

creature comforts.

Death and All His Friends

I taught about Halloween. It's quite interesting learning the true

history of a holiday I remember as mainly kids, pranks, and candy.

Putting an objective spin on it was equally illuminating while sharing

with a 165 chinese college students. It really sounds like a crazy

holiday, and it probably looked even crazier with me drawing

scarecrows and Jack-o-lanterns on the board. By the end of it I had

hunched over and stumbled like a zombie, cackled like a witch (which

caught them completely off guard--they're naturally pretty skiddish),

and popping my collar to look like Dracula. I wrapped up the class by

sharing a scary story about a killer on the loose. I'm sure most of

them left with a higher heartrate and bloodpressure than they came with.

The class actually began pretty solemn, and it was probably my

favorite part. I asked them to share death customs with me, so we

could compare and contrast practices. Those who had experienced death

in their family revealed much about their philosophy of life, as well

as some insight into their faith, or that of their family (many

mentioned Buddhist monks, reading Buddhist scripture, or Taoist

practices of their family). I also shared typical Western Christian

practices, including the feeling of happiness for the departed loved

one who has realized the hope of their new life. Contrary to popular

opinion, or even Chinese suggestion, the majority of my students

practiced some rite or ritual that indicated a belief in the afterlife.

We continued by discussing the tradition of "Tomb Sweeping Day" and

how it was similar to All Saints Day in Christendom-which eventually

evolved into "All Hallows Eve." There was some surprise (admittedly

from myself as well) about how the two cultures both showed honor for

the dead in the afterlife.

While the class ended with my goofy, scary story (which was  presented

during the day with wide-opened windows beaming in sunshine), there

was a sense of mutual respect shared in how both of us aren't so

ridiculous in some of our beliefs and practices afterall.

The thin ice of content was tread in the classroom that day, but

hopefully to the benefit of everyone.

The Grand Tour

We waited for almost two weeks without much contact from our foreign affairs officers, neither Frank nor Joy. We hadn't heard when or our classes would officially start, but we knew school officially started with registration on Sep. 6. (I should point out that the school had stressed we arrive no later than Sep. 3-so we came on Aug. 27 just to be safe). We had no idea what kind of classes to prepare for, if we needed to begin assembling lesson plans, curiculum, or what. This made my teacher of a wife a bit nervous having never experienced such short notice in the US.

We eventually received an email indicating we would have an orientation meeting the tuesday (Sep. 8) following registration. We were picked up in a bus, where we met the rest of our Western colleagues who all lived in our building. The first half of the day was orientation by our Foreign Affairs Office, explaining (often in a painfully formal manner) the rules of our school, expectations, and other useful information. They even had the local chief of police

share some registration laws, as well as scooter and bicycle road rules (I speculate he mainly wanted to practice his English, and had prepared a speech accordingly). The morning concluded with a tour of campus and free lunch, followed by a tour of the campus museum on the 16th floor of the library-elaborting the history of our new school and

how they had contributed to Chinese scientific posterity. The day concluded with a very brief meeting with the actual English department, where we received our class assignments and schedule. And just like that, our day was over and we weren't expected back on the Xiasha campus for almost two more weeks. This is standard operating procedure in China.

The Apartment

Still under the influence of jet lag, we awoke the next morning to our new apartment.

Grocery-barren and gloomy, there wasn't much to say about the small, two bedroom flat. We had actually been given our choice of the available apartments in the building the night before, but according to Chinese standards of choice. We were allowed to investigate the third floor apartment, but then were informed that the phone was broken and some of the appliances need to be replaced. So we went up to the fourth floor to check it out, but Frank and Joy were hesitant to give us our choice of either of the two apartments available on that floor. We were getting discouraged due to the gradually increasing numbers of stairs we were going to have to ascend. Finally, we walked in to the fifth floor apartment Frank had "gotten ready" for us, and agreed (after getting the hint) that this was the best choice for us. They happily accepted our decision and proceeded to show us that they had put new sheets on the bed and some food in the fridge (a package of orange-flavored muffins that tasted pretty good, a carton of milk, and some oranges).

The apartment was supposedly "remodeled" over the summer, but that doesn't seem to have been more than a fresh layer of powder-coat paint on the walls (which left everything covered in what appeared to be chalk dust) and some newer pieces of furniture (which was probably the nicest thing about the place). We were happy that all the appliances looked to be within 2-3 years new, and almost everything worked exceptionally well (aside from the heating element of our water cooler-which we wouldn't need until winter). The most disappointing feature of the entire setup was one heating/air unit (no they don't have central heat and air) in the whole place, but it was situated in the bedroom, and we were provided with a fan, so we engineered a method of circulating air to most of the house. We were definitely happy about the western toilet. An electric water heater supplied hot water to both bathroom and kitchen water supplies--a feature I was lacking in my previous Chinese apartment.

Waking up that morning (circa 4:30 a.m.) we still didn't have internet, nothing was unpacked, and the walls of the apartment were barren--hardly a warm welcome to a new day. Before sadness overtook us, we laced up our shoes and went for a nice walk exploring our surrounding neighborhood with the sunrise. There were older people congregating in a nearby park, practicing tai chi, others were walking their little dogs (most of them looking like little dust mops on leashes), and farmers were bringing their fresh produce into the city on cycles that looked like pickup-tricycles. As the sun broke over the tops of the buildings and traffic began to build, we walked holding hands, excited about the prospects of making a home out of our new, drab little apartment in this funny, and seemingly backward culture.

The Arrival

We made it. After months of planning, getting married, traveling to see family and friends, we made it. Here, wherever Hangzhou China is, seems so far away from worrying about how we'll pay student loans in a few months, how we'll sell our cars, making sure all of our earthly possessions are okay in a non-climate controlled storage shed in Henderson and a million other things. Now it's all on the other side of the planet, left behind with our family, close friends, Laila (our energetic yet obedient Weimerainer), and Chickfila milkshakes. After an overnight layover in Toronto (thanks to Air Canada's rescheduling of flights), we touched down at the Pudong International Airport in Shanghai mid-afternoon. Our waibon (foreign affairs officer), Joy, came to pick us up, so we parted ways with our traveling buddies Kevin (my old roommate), Kris, and Michael (my sister and brother-in-law). It's strange leaving people you love not knowing where any of you are going nor how to contact each other except by email--and that without knowing if/when you'll have Internet access. (we referred to it as the radio silence on the dark side of the moon)

Joy is a very bubbly, energetic individual that has amazing English for a waibon. She welcomed us heartily--even hugging Rebecca, not a cultural trait typical of Chinese--and showed us to our car at the pick up curb. It was a newer model Volkswagon Jetta, which would have been great except Joy wasn't driving (she doesn't have a license--which is common among Chinese). So we had another woman who was a professional driver for our university, as well as the three of us,two hardshell Samsonite suitcases and to military duffelbags stuffed to capacity--in the Jetta. Both tiny Chinese women refused to let me help out of courtesy as they attempted to arrange 200 pounds of baggage, with enough room for the four of us. The end result put both Chinese women up front with Rebecca and I stuffed in the back, divided
by a wall of duffel bags, and two Samsonite hardshells hanging out of the trunk (plus our carry-on backpacks resting cozily in our laps). It was a long two hour ride to Hangzhou listening to the history of Hangzhou and our new university, all the while fighting the first stages of jet lag.

It was dark when we got into Hangzhou proper, and we were ready to stretch our legs, drop our bags, and sleep. However, that's not what our new hosts had in mind. In the course of our conversation, they had learned that I was fond of noodles, so our determined to find me some noodles before we retired. The driver was a Hangzhou native and relayed through Joy that she new a good place close to campus. Wearily we tried to politely decline, but realized it was in
the best interest of our new diplomatic relationship to accept, at which point we were met by Joy's colleague Frank, who also served as one of our FAOs. They ordered us pickled bamboo shoots and some sweet and sour fish--a dish that looks worse than it tastes. Poor Rebecca had a rough first experience with Chinese cuisine as they accidentally
brought her out a noodle dish she did NOT order, topped with dried fish (not fillets, full fish- bones, scales, and all!) after making it through dinner in a jet-lagged stupor, they delivered us to our apartment, only for us to realize that it was NOT located on the campus where we would be teaching, close to our students and friends teaching at other universities. Instead, we were in downtown Hangzhou, with no sense of direction, no one to make contact with, and no Internet. So we did the only thing we knew to do at 8:30pm on our first night in Hangzhou. We went to sleep.