by Ruth
I've been to the hospital three times in the past week, but mostly just in the waiting room.
At the beginning of the week, I went with a friend who was having outpatient surgery done. She saw me on facebook the night before and asked if I wanted to come. She said she wouldn't mind going by herself and I was like, "You're having surgery! Of course you don't want to go by yourself!" So I went and sat in various waiting rooms for about 5 hours.
While we were waiting together in the hospital lobby, a middle-aged western woman came in and talked to a nurse. "I need to see a doctor about a bite on my leg," the woman said. The nurse said something we couldn't hear and then the woman said, "Well, I don't think the gynecologist would know what to do about the bite." The nurse hesitated then said, "So you don't want a pap smear?" She led the woman away...in the direction of the gynecology unit, and my friend and I fell over each other laughing. Oh, the miscommunications!
The second time at the hospital was much shorter. Our teammate Christina was having her wisdom teeth out. When she told me about it, she was also planning on going alone. "I figured they could call a songtao for me" (the red taxi trucks). What is it with these people? I said, "You can't go by yourself!" Several other friends went at the beginning and Kevin and I came over later. I figured it might take hours but by the time we got there, they were already finished! Christina was sitting in the waiting room with swollen cheeks and a pained look. We made fun of her, caused her to laugh, and tried to get her to take pain medicine she couldn't swallow...because that's the kind of good friends we are. Kevin and I brought her flowers though, which we pointed out to her after apologizing for all the rest of the torture we were causing. I don't think she minded too much that we were making fun of her, I think it was more the problem that she couldn't talk back.
Today I went to the hospital for the third time. Kevin and I had dentist appointments. It was the fastest dentist appointment ever! Fifteen minutes and I was back in the waiting room. $50 later, we were both paid for and out the door. And no cavities. Which discourages me again from actually taking up flossing, since my teeth have always done okay without it. There's no dentists reading this blog, are there?
That should be all for the hospital visits this trip. It's not a bad hospital (they already do all their medical records on computer, kind of like America is hoping to do one of these days). Still, it smells all antiseptically weird and the colors are horrible. So hopefully no one else I know is planning a surgery in the next few weeks.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Celebration of Discipline
By Kevin
I'm done! Just finished up our development class here in Thailand. Now I'm a bit more free to write.
The last couple weeks of class have been really good. I am always challenged by our grad classes. Unfortunately, I also discovered that I won't be completely done next summer, like I'd hoped: I'll have one more session of Thailand classes before earning my degree.
I'm done! Just finished up our development class here in Thailand. Now I'm a bit more free to write.
The last couple weeks of class have been really good. I am always challenged by our grad classes. Unfortunately, I also discovered that I won't be completely done next summer, like I'd hoped: I'll have one more session of Thailand classes before earning my degree.
I know Ruth wrote on this subject already, but it bears repeating. I too have been thinking about the idea of simplifying and scheduling “buffer zones” and margins into life so that I can be more intentional about rest and things other than just work. It’s becoming clearer and clearer that my effectiveness isn’t measured by how much I do.In other words, I
Again and again in one class, we reverberated the need to “Be still and know that I am God,” which too often we disconnect from the rest of the verse: “I will be exalted among the nations. I will be exalted in the earth.” This is the reason for silence. It prepares us, even enables us, to be able to exalt Him.
A quote Dr. Gallagher shared from Deitrich Bonhoeffer really hit home: “We’re so afraid of silence that we chase ourselves from one event to the next…in order not to have to look at ourselves in the mirror." For some reason, silence terrifies us. Maybe it's because we come from a driven, capitalistic country, but we feel like we need to be doing something to occupy every minute of our day. Spending time that isn’t “accomplishing” something seems counterproductive to us. How often we forget that life is about relationship. Just like a father or mother wants to spend time with their child, and hear about their day, the Father wants the same from us. But he also wants us to listen. Without silence, it’s hard to listen.
I feel like believers (myself included) have too often bought into the Western idea that we need to be busy ALL THE TIME. The capitalistic idea that time is money has invaded the way we approach our service. We buy into the idea that we’d “rather burn out than rust out,” but it’s not healthy. If we’re not busy all the time until we’re exhausted, somehow, we see ourselves as failing. But it’s a lie. And it’s watering down our effectiveness because usually the result is we are disconnected from the source of life. No wonder the census says some 77 percent of Americans identify themselves as believers, but, when Barna asks people about their actual beliefs, only 8 percent of Americans fit the criteria most would hold as essentials for true faith.
I'm thinking about how many times someone asked "How are you?" and my instinctive answer was "I'm busy, how are you?" What message does that communicate? Then I compare my life to the son's. I'm certainly not busier than him.
It’s hitting me that I too easily pass over all the times Jesus retreated to spend time with the Father. I miss the times he even told his disciples to come with him to rest, while he was in the midst of serving people, even. We ignore the father restoring Elijah in the cave before giving him his next task.
But he knew better than we do. He knew, as Gallagher puts it, that being comes before doing. Even he had to be still and know God for God to be exalted through him.
We also forget history. “When we read the life of the saints, we are struck by a certain large leisure which went hand in hand with a remarkable effectiveness. They were never hurried; they did comparatively few things, and these not necessarily striking or important; and they troubled very little about their influence. Yet they always seemed to hit the mark; every bit of their life told; their simplest actions had a distinction, an exquisiteness which suggested the artist.” – Bridget Herman.
I'm speaking to myself here: I need more discipline. I need more rest.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
The Land of All Good Things
by Ruth
My friend Ashley calls Thailand “the land of all good things,” and she’s right. Right now it is the middle of January and the weather is warm and sunny. The trees are a lush, full green and there are birds singing. In the past week, we have eaten Mexican, Thai, Mediterranean burgers, sandwiches, pizza, donuts, ice cream…there is so much variety. We get to see people we know, people “like us,” who say strange things and don’t quite fit in anywhere.
Of course, Kevin has to go to classes during this time. Go to classes, read articles, work on group projects, write papers. I’ve already taken these classes so I am just hanging out and dabbling in a distance learning course I’m supposed to be working on. And reading. Did I mention that Chiang Mai also has several used book stores full of books I haven’t read?
The strange thing about this time is that just hanging out and not having to do a lot has been hard for me. I don’t think I’m one of those crazy driven people who feels happy about not having a spare minute of the day. But I’ve realized this semester that I don’t relax very well anymore. When I have free time, I get antsy and invariably end up using it to work ahead or clean or waste it in a non-relaxing way. I feel nervous when I’m not accomplishing something. In other words, I feel driven to prove my worth by doing a bunch of stuff.
I visited Kevin’s class last week (about “inner growth,” so to speak) which was taught by Dr. Gallagher, the same professor we had in the summer. He is a really good professor whose token phrase is (in an Australian accent), “Take it easy.” He talked about some of the same things I have been thinking about: slowing down, focusing on “being” instead of “doing,” and setting aside time for God, for family, and for taking care of yourself. He reminded us to follow our passions and consider our limits.
I view my limits more or less as a personal enemy to be overcome. I keep coming up against my physical, emotional, and spiritual limits and getting frustrated. My personal expectations are much higher than my limits. Our culture is all about breaking limits and says “you can do anything if you try hard enough,” so I don’t like to accept the fact that I can’t. Sometimes I try harder and just fall apart. Athletes must push themselves but if they push too hard, they’ll end up with injuries.
Last summer, Dr. Gallagher said that many of us act like we are in a sprint. We do and do and burn out by 30. “You are not in a sprint,” he told us, “You are in a marathon. If you don’t take care of yourself now, you will take years off your life.” Just the other day he reminded us again, “Some of you still have 70 years ahead of you!” And I thought, “Oh my gosh, that could be true!” I have several relatives who are in their mid-90’s. Sometimes I forget how young I am. Our culture is so youth-oriented, I have the idea that if you plan to do anything useful in life, you better do it by the time you’re 30 or 40. Obviously, most people live far beyond that and do all kinds of meaningful things into their 80’s or 90’s even.
So really, I do need to “take it easy.” I’ve got so much life ahead of me. I need to pace myself and take care of my health so that I can still be doing useful things at 80 and 90. Hmm, seventy more years. That kind of takes the pressure off.
My friend Ashley calls Thailand “the land of all good things,” and she’s right. Right now it is the middle of January and the weather is warm and sunny. The trees are a lush, full green and there are birds singing. In the past week, we have eaten Mexican, Thai, Mediterranean burgers, sandwiches, pizza, donuts, ice cream…there is so much variety. We get to see people we know, people “like us,” who say strange things and don’t quite fit in anywhere.
Of course, Kevin has to go to classes during this time. Go to classes, read articles, work on group projects, write papers. I’ve already taken these classes so I am just hanging out and dabbling in a distance learning course I’m supposed to be working on. And reading. Did I mention that Chiang Mai also has several used book stores full of books I haven’t read?
The strange thing about this time is that just hanging out and not having to do a lot has been hard for me. I don’t think I’m one of those crazy driven people who feels happy about not having a spare minute of the day. But I’ve realized this semester that I don’t relax very well anymore. When I have free time, I get antsy and invariably end up using it to work ahead or clean or waste it in a non-relaxing way. I feel nervous when I’m not accomplishing something. In other words, I feel driven to prove my worth by doing a bunch of stuff.
I visited Kevin’s class last week (about “inner growth,” so to speak) which was taught by Dr. Gallagher, the same professor we had in the summer. He is a really good professor whose token phrase is (in an Australian accent), “Take it easy.” He talked about some of the same things I have been thinking about: slowing down, focusing on “being” instead of “doing,” and setting aside time for God, for family, and for taking care of yourself. He reminded us to follow our passions and consider our limits.
I view my limits more or less as a personal enemy to be overcome. I keep coming up against my physical, emotional, and spiritual limits and getting frustrated. My personal expectations are much higher than my limits. Our culture is all about breaking limits and says “you can do anything if you try hard enough,” so I don’t like to accept the fact that I can’t. Sometimes I try harder and just fall apart. Athletes must push themselves but if they push too hard, they’ll end up with injuries.
Last summer, Dr. Gallagher said that many of us act like we are in a sprint. We do and do and burn out by 30. “You are not in a sprint,” he told us, “You are in a marathon. If you don’t take care of yourself now, you will take years off your life.” Just the other day he reminded us again, “Some of you still have 70 years ahead of you!” And I thought, “Oh my gosh, that could be true!” I have several relatives who are in their mid-90’s. Sometimes I forget how young I am. Our culture is so youth-oriented, I have the idea that if you plan to do anything useful in life, you better do it by the time you’re 30 or 40. Obviously, most people live far beyond that and do all kinds of meaningful things into their 80’s or 90’s even.
So really, I do need to “take it easy.” I’ve got so much life ahead of me. I need to pace myself and take care of my health so that I can still be doing useful things at 80 and 90. Hmm, seventy more years. That kind of takes the pressure off.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Getting There
by Ruth
Kevin bought a hugely-overpriced 7-Up for me in the
Getting there is half the fun.
And I thought, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Whoever came up with that logo obviously either has vastly different travel experiences than I do, or is one of those people who think that all manner of miserable, crappy situations are adventurous and funny.
I considered my past travel experiences. Sitting in airports, running through airports, getting stranded in airports, turbulent flights, long smoky train rides, long bumpy bus rides, sickening boat trips, buses breaking down, treacherous one-lane mountain roads. I was really having a hard time remembering the fun part. While Asia has more than its fair share of bad transportation, traveling in
As I walked through the
First, there was that one good plane flight with Kevin a couple of years back. That was one of the few times I wasn’t eager to just “get there” (and only partly because I was dreading
Second, although chronologically earlier, a college road trip with friends. We got lost, pulled over by a cop, and almost smashed by a semi, but it was still fun. We laughed and talked and listened to Dixie Chicks for eight hours. I guess traveling with a group of friends makes things better. Except that some of my worst ever travel experiences were also with friends. Hmm.
Since my travel experiences seem to be generally bad regardless of the mode of travel, where I am or who I’m with, I am sensing one common denominator. That would be me. I am not a good traveler. I’m a destination kind of person. The Hanings, my past teammates, described our sort of travel mode as the brain shutting down to the lowest possible functioning level and focusing on the goal: arrival.
And yet. I still travel a lot. I guess that’s because most of the time it’s worth it. Seeing family, seeing friends, visiting students, skipping out on winter to spend a month in
Monday, January 5, 2009
Wandering around Malaysia
by Ruth
Travel is always more difficult than it seems like it should be. This travel experience started out with our bus breaking down before we even got out of Weinan. I try not to be needlessly superstitious, but this didn’t seem like a good sign. Our flights to Malaysia went okay though, and twelve hours after walking into the Xian airport, bundled up in coats and scarves, we stepped off the plane into the warm Malaysian night. We had plenty of time to enjoy the night as we walked a few hundred yards across the tarmac to the actual terminal. The low cost flight obviously meant we didn’t get to use an actual gate.
I had spent hours looking up information on Kuala Lumpur so we would know where to stay, what to see, and how to get around. After losing the papers where I had written all the information, I spent several more hours looking up more information. Unfortunately, at least half of it wasn’t useful and I left out a lot of things we really needed to know.
First of all, we found out that we had arrived at the “low cost terminal” which was 20km from the rest of the airport (where the train we were planning to take was located). So instead, we sat around in a bus until it filled up and took us to the city. Once we got to the city, when we wanted to take a taxi to our hotel, we realized we didn’t have any idea how much taxis should cost. (They have meters but don’t seem to use them, and one taxi driver told us he could also make the meter run extra fast and cheat you that way.) We finally got to the hotel at 10pm, having eaten very little in the past 12 hours. We were thrilled to find that the Subway conveniently located in the hotel was still open.
We spent most of the first day in our hotel room, very small and only a small sidewalk away from a busy six-lane road – but clean and cheap! After venturing out for lunch I decided I was feeling too sick to stand any longer. The second day I was feeling somewhat better, and now I am okay. My health hasn’t necessarily made traveling easier, however.
We went up this big telecommunication tower (the 4th tallest in the world) to look over the city. Kuala Lumpur is a pretty nice city. It has a lot of interesting architecture, lots of trees, and is surrounded by mountains. The city is also very diverse. Every where we go, we see Muslims, Hindus, Chinese, Indians, and Westerners. Many women wear headscarves and long sleeves. Some wear saris and have “the Hindu dot” (really can’t remember what that’s called) on their foreheads. Some of the public transit stations have prayer rooms. We have seen several mosques, a number of Buddhist spirit houses, and yesterday went to visit a Hindu cave-temple.
Despite all the public transportation, getting around has been quite difficult. Last night we walked all around an area that was supposed to have street food and never found it. Today we tried to go to a rainforest preserve. First, we took two different trains to the outside of town. When we got off, were in the middle of nowhere – not rainforest nowhere, but industrial nowhere. This was the first time we really got stared at for being foreigners. On the map, it really looked like this rainforest place was just off the train stop. After walking and walking and walking through a maze of little streets in midday, tropical sun, we were totally lost and confused. Finally, a kindly McDonalds employee helped us out. He drew a little map and told us to take a taxi since we were still 5km away. The taxi dropped us off at the gate of the Forest Research Institute…and then we walked and walked and walked up hilly roads in the midday, tropical sun. We passed rainforest signs and saw forested areas in the distance but never could find where we were supposed to be going. Finally, exhausted and dehydrated, we turned around and walked back, mosquitoes feasting on our sweaty legs. I still don’t know what we were actually looking for or why it was so hard to find. So our last day in Malaysia basically consisted of walking around for hours and hours in the hot sun and finding nothing. But then tonight we found a Dunkin Donuts, so that makes things a little better, right? :)
Tomorrow our taxi is arriving at 3:45am to take us to the airport. The taxi will cost about as much as the flight (which was pretty darn cheap), and will probably take about as long. Be the time morning hits for real, we’ll be in Cambodia. Malaysia hasn’t been all bad, but hopefully Cambodia will be a little bit easier…
Travel is always more difficult than it seems like it should be. This travel experience started out with our bus breaking down before we even got out of Weinan. I try not to be needlessly superstitious, but this didn’t seem like a good sign. Our flights to Malaysia went okay though, and twelve hours after walking into the Xian airport, bundled up in coats and scarves, we stepped off the plane into the warm Malaysian night. We had plenty of time to enjoy the night as we walked a few hundred yards across the tarmac to the actual terminal. The low cost flight obviously meant we didn’t get to use an actual gate.
I had spent hours looking up information on Kuala Lumpur so we would know where to stay, what to see, and how to get around. After losing the papers where I had written all the information, I spent several more hours looking up more information. Unfortunately, at least half of it wasn’t useful and I left out a lot of things we really needed to know.
First of all, we found out that we had arrived at the “low cost terminal” which was 20km from the rest of the airport (where the train we were planning to take was located). So instead, we sat around in a bus until it filled up and took us to the city. Once we got to the city, when we wanted to take a taxi to our hotel, we realized we didn’t have any idea how much taxis should cost. (They have meters but don’t seem to use them, and one taxi driver told us he could also make the meter run extra fast and cheat you that way.) We finally got to the hotel at 10pm, having eaten very little in the past 12 hours. We were thrilled to find that the Subway conveniently located in the hotel was still open.
We spent most of the first day in our hotel room, very small and only a small sidewalk away from a busy six-lane road – but clean and cheap! After venturing out for lunch I decided I was feeling too sick to stand any longer. The second day I was feeling somewhat better, and now I am okay. My health hasn’t necessarily made traveling easier, however.
We went up this big telecommunication tower (the 4th tallest in the world) to look over the city. Kuala Lumpur is a pretty nice city. It has a lot of interesting architecture, lots of trees, and is surrounded by mountains. The city is also very diverse. Every where we go, we see Muslims, Hindus, Chinese, Indians, and Westerners. Many women wear headscarves and long sleeves. Some wear saris and have “the Hindu dot” (really can’t remember what that’s called) on their foreheads. Some of the public transit stations have prayer rooms. We have seen several mosques, a number of Buddhist spirit houses, and yesterday went to visit a Hindu cave-temple.
Despite all the public transportation, getting around has been quite difficult. Last night we walked all around an area that was supposed to have street food and never found it. Today we tried to go to a rainforest preserve. First, we took two different trains to the outside of town. When we got off, were in the middle of nowhere – not rainforest nowhere, but industrial nowhere. This was the first time we really got stared at for being foreigners. On the map, it really looked like this rainforest place was just off the train stop. After walking and walking and walking through a maze of little streets in midday, tropical sun, we were totally lost and confused. Finally, a kindly McDonalds employee helped us out. He drew a little map and told us to take a taxi since we were still 5km away. The taxi dropped us off at the gate of the Forest Research Institute…and then we walked and walked and walked up hilly roads in the midday, tropical sun. We passed rainforest signs and saw forested areas in the distance but never could find where we were supposed to be going. Finally, exhausted and dehydrated, we turned around and walked back, mosquitoes feasting on our sweaty legs. I still don’t know what we were actually looking for or why it was so hard to find. So our last day in Malaysia basically consisted of walking around for hours and hours in the hot sun and finding nothing. But then tonight we found a Dunkin Donuts, so that makes things a little better, right? :)
Tomorrow our taxi is arriving at 3:45am to take us to the airport. The taxi will cost about as much as the flight (which was pretty darn cheap), and will probably take about as long. Be the time morning hits for real, we’ll be in Cambodia. Malaysia hasn’t been all bad, but hopefully Cambodia will be a little bit easier…
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Southern Migration
By Ruth
And we're off! In half an hour, (hopefully) we will have started our migration to warmer climates. By tomorrow evening we'll be close to the equator. We'll probably be sweating. It's gonna be great.
First we are going to spend three days in Malaysia (Kuala Lumpur), then six days in Cambodia (Siem Reap, where Angkor Wat is, and then Phnom Pehn, visiting some friends), and then we will head to Thailand. So that gives us five flights, two buses, and four countries in the next 10 days. It'll be a little busy, but it should be really interesting too. We'll be adding two new countries to the list!
We'll be in Thailand for the remainder of the trip. Kevin will be taking classes for two weeks in Chiang Mai while I hang out and *technically* get a lot of work done on my distance learning class. By the pool or in a little coffee shop or sipping a coconut smoothy. :) We will have our conference in Chiang Mai also, and then head down to the beach for a few days.
We should have internet for a lot of the time (especially the part when we aren't traveling insessantly), so we should be able to put up some updates. In fact, if I am hanging out in Thailand trying to avoid grad work, you might get a lot of posts from me! And we'll try to put up pictures of the cool places we get to see as well.
I love having a job that allows me to spend the entire month of January in a warm climate. If I didn't get to live my life, I think I would envy myself.
And we're off! In half an hour, (hopefully) we will have started our migration to warmer climates. By tomorrow evening we'll be close to the equator. We'll probably be sweating. It's gonna be great.
First we are going to spend three days in Malaysia (Kuala Lumpur), then six days in Cambodia (Siem Reap, where Angkor Wat is, and then Phnom Pehn, visiting some friends), and then we will head to Thailand. So that gives us five flights, two buses, and four countries in the next 10 days. It'll be a little busy, but it should be really interesting too. We'll be adding two new countries to the list!
We'll be in Thailand for the remainder of the trip. Kevin will be taking classes for two weeks in Chiang Mai while I hang out and *technically* get a lot of work done on my distance learning class. By the pool or in a little coffee shop or sipping a coconut smoothy. :) We will have our conference in Chiang Mai also, and then head down to the beach for a few days.
We should have internet for a lot of the time (especially the part when we aren't traveling insessantly), so we should be able to put up some updates. In fact, if I am hanging out in Thailand trying to avoid grad work, you might get a lot of posts from me! And we'll try to put up pictures of the cool places we get to see as well.
I love having a job that allows me to spend the entire month of January in a warm climate. If I didn't get to live my life, I think I would envy myself.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Who's the palest of them all?
by Ruth
China does strange things to your self-esteem. On one hand, you are viewed as a superstar. On the other hand, you have to continually embarrass yourself in public. And that's not all.
China has definitely made me think differently about my looks. It's kind of reassuring to have people (not just Kevin) tell me I'm beautiful every other day: my students, other people's students, random strangers. I always say, "No-no-no," but who doesn't like to hear they're pretty sometimes? There is only partial satisfaction in their analysis of me, though, because they have some different standards. One of the reasons they think I'm so beautiful is because of my pale skin. Pale skin is very attractive, and the fairer the better. Instead of tanning lotion stores sell whitening creams. When my sister Anna came to visit (Anna, who was often described as a "porcelain doll" growing up, much to her distaste), they just couldn't get over her skin.
They also like my "yellow" hair (all foreigner's hair is yellow) and my big eyes. Some Chinese people don't have an eyelid crease and will actually pay to get a crease put in. They also tend to have shorter, thinner eyelashes. And this year several students have told me they want noses that are tall like mine.
So they don't believe me when I tell them that in America, I'm quite average. And that my pale skin is not exactly considered an asset. I tell them how Americans like to be tanned but I don't think they believe me. I tell them they think I'm beautiful just cause I look different, but they have a hard time grasping there are whole countries full of people who look just like me (in general, in their eyes).
When I walk into class wearing a skirt or a scarf or with a different hairstyle, my students often sigh and exclaim. I can almost predict which outfits/scarves/earring will make them sigh, and I try to dole them out accordingly. For example, if I wear a scarf in my hair and long earrings and a skirt, it's just too much. They won't pay attention to anything I say. It kind of reminds me of the third graders I taught who would be equally distracted by long earrings or a baby who just has to take a grab at the necklace.
Sometimes it's a little spooky/intimidating, a student I just met remembers the exact outfit I wore two years ago. Sometimes it's annoyingly distracting when a student interrupts a deep, profound conversation to say, "Your eyes are so pretty." Sometimes it's funny/flattering when several students come up to me after class wanting me to show them how to fix their hair. In general, it's a welcome counterbalance to "the other hand."
Especially the first year or two in China, I became extra self conscious about my body. Partly because suddenly hundreds of people were staring at me everywhere I went. Partly because I was surrounded by hundreds of girls (and, let's be honest, boys too) who were so thin they were almost two dimensional. I've usually felt okay about my weight, but really, who needs that? I had never seen so many tiny people in my life. I started feeling huge. Students sometimes make "tactful" comments, like looking at pictures they will say, "I think you are less fat than then." Thanks? And yet they still ask me for weigh loss advice. Truly baffling.
Many women think that shopping for bathing suits is bad, but they should just try shopping in China. For starters, I can automatically eliminate about 3/4 of the clothes as "I would never be able to get into that." When I bought shirts, I had to find an extra large, and pants were out of the question. My arms seem to be a full inch or two longer than any Chinese shirts. And then there's the fact that 98% of Chinese girls are pretty much, well, flat up front. They have the bodies of pre-adolescent models. I don't know why I still tried going clothes shopping. I've completely given it up this year in China, and I think I feel a lot better about myself.
My height and big feet don't help things. I don't mind being tall, but sometimes when I realize just how short some of my students are (about the height of those third graders), I started feeling like a giant. Whenever I try to buy shoes, I automatically look for the largest size available (which is around a 7.5-8) and then it's still a bit too small. When the shop keepers give me that "of course we don't have a bigger size" look I start feeling like a kangaroo.
All in all though, I am once again coming to terms with my looks. I generally ignore a lot of the stares, don't think much about the "you're so beautiful" comments, and try to avoid shopping. But I have realized that the staring sometimes still gets to me.
When everyone I walk past looks at me, my natural response is, "Something must be wrong! Is my hair sticking up? Do I have a stain on my shirt?" No matter how many times I remind myself that they are staring at me because of my skin and my hair and my shirt and my height and the fact that everything about me is different, I find it hard to quell the impulse to smooth my hair and check that everything's in order. I wonder if real superstars feel the same way...
China does strange things to your self-esteem. On one hand, you are viewed as a superstar. On the other hand, you have to continually embarrass yourself in public. And that's not all.
China has definitely made me think differently about my looks. It's kind of reassuring to have people (not just Kevin) tell me I'm beautiful every other day: my students, other people's students, random strangers. I always say, "No-no-no," but who doesn't like to hear they're pretty sometimes? There is only partial satisfaction in their analysis of me, though, because they have some different standards. One of the reasons they think I'm so beautiful is because of my pale skin. Pale skin is very attractive, and the fairer the better. Instead of tanning lotion stores sell whitening creams. When my sister Anna came to visit (Anna, who was often described as a "porcelain doll" growing up, much to her distaste), they just couldn't get over her skin.
They also like my "yellow" hair (all foreigner's hair is yellow) and my big eyes. Some Chinese people don't have an eyelid crease and will actually pay to get a crease put in. They also tend to have shorter, thinner eyelashes. And this year several students have told me they want noses that are tall like mine.
So they don't believe me when I tell them that in America, I'm quite average. And that my pale skin is not exactly considered an asset. I tell them how Americans like to be tanned but I don't think they believe me. I tell them they think I'm beautiful just cause I look different, but they have a hard time grasping there are whole countries full of people who look just like me (in general, in their eyes).
When I walk into class wearing a skirt or a scarf or with a different hairstyle, my students often sigh and exclaim. I can almost predict which outfits/scarves/earring will make them sigh, and I try to dole them out accordingly. For example, if I wear a scarf in my hair and long earrings and a skirt, it's just too much. They won't pay attention to anything I say. It kind of reminds me of the third graders I taught who would be equally distracted by long earrings or a baby who just has to take a grab at the necklace.
Sometimes it's a little spooky/intimidating, a student I just met remembers the exact outfit I wore two years ago. Sometimes it's annoyingly distracting when a student interrupts a deep, profound conversation to say, "Your eyes are so pretty." Sometimes it's funny/flattering when several students come up to me after class wanting me to show them how to fix their hair. In general, it's a welcome counterbalance to "the other hand."
Especially the first year or two in China, I became extra self conscious about my body. Partly because suddenly hundreds of people were staring at me everywhere I went. Partly because I was surrounded by hundreds of girls (and, let's be honest, boys too) who were so thin they were almost two dimensional. I've usually felt okay about my weight, but really, who needs that? I had never seen so many tiny people in my life. I started feeling huge. Students sometimes make "tactful" comments, like looking at pictures they will say, "I think you are less fat than then." Thanks? And yet they still ask me for weigh loss advice. Truly baffling.
Many women think that shopping for bathing suits is bad, but they should just try shopping in China. For starters, I can automatically eliminate about 3/4 of the clothes as "I would never be able to get into that." When I bought shirts, I had to find an extra large, and pants were out of the question. My arms seem to be a full inch or two longer than any Chinese shirts. And then there's the fact that 98% of Chinese girls are pretty much, well, flat up front. They have the bodies of pre-adolescent models. I don't know why I still tried going clothes shopping. I've completely given it up this year in China, and I think I feel a lot better about myself.
My height and big feet don't help things. I don't mind being tall, but sometimes when I realize just how short some of my students are (about the height of those third graders), I started feeling like a giant. Whenever I try to buy shoes, I automatically look for the largest size available (which is around a 7.5-8) and then it's still a bit too small. When the shop keepers give me that "of course we don't have a bigger size" look I start feeling like a kangaroo.
All in all though, I am once again coming to terms with my looks. I generally ignore a lot of the stares, don't think much about the "you're so beautiful" comments, and try to avoid shopping. But I have realized that the staring sometimes still gets to me.
When everyone I walk past looks at me, my natural response is, "Something must be wrong! Is my hair sticking up? Do I have a stain on my shirt?" No matter how many times I remind myself that they are staring at me because of my skin and my hair and my shirt and my height and the fact that everything about me is different, I find it hard to quell the impulse to smooth my hair and check that everything's in order. I wonder if real superstars feel the same way...
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Superstar
By Ruth
I have been doing far too much public singing lately. It’s not because I sing so well, but rather because I am a famous superstar. I am a famous superstar because I have a white face. Students I have never seen before greet me by name. People invite themselves over to my house. Random strangers want to take pictures with me. I run interference on my phone calls (shh, don’t tell). And I sing in public.
On Friday, I was on the school radio program, the one that blasts through the loudspeakers at 6am, 12pm, and 6pm every day. Two of my students help with the “
I did not smile and nod, however, when my student tried to invite the whole campus over to our apartment on Christmas day. When she found out we would still be here at Christmas she said, “Oh, this is a good opportunity to celebrate with your students! Just tell us the place and time and we will come to your apartment!” I gave one of those fake laughs and said, “I don’t think everyone could fit in my apartment.” When she kept pressing, I stopped fake laughing and started giving her menacing looks, which she failed to notice.
At the end of the program, she asked me to sing a song. I sang “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” (while other music was playing in the background). I didn’t mind so much because, once again, I figured nobody could really understand what was going on. When I got back, Kevin said he had understood about two words of the whole thing.
Monday night, however, everyone heard the singing as we were on stage with full volume microphones and a crowd of people before us. It was the English Department Christmas performance, and it was a big deal. Students have been auditioning and practicing for weeks, and they even told us about it weeks in advance. They had marked us down for a performance before we even agreed to it.
The stairway leading up to the third floor auditorium were decorated with ribbons and bows. Students were lined up on either side of the door like ushers, some of them my students wearing suits! They looked so cute. As we walked in, the room was already full and everyone started clapping as we made our way down the aisle because we are superstars. We were midway through the performance, right in the middle of half a dozen singers, a few humorous skits, and several belly-dancers. You know, traditional Christmas. Some of my students did a Romeo and Juliette type skit and even though I couldn’t understand the Chinese, it was really funny. Another student did one of the belly-dances, and I have to say, she was really quite talented.
My hope was that by the time our turn came, everyone would already be deafened by painfully loud speakers. Our seats of honor were of course directly in front of the speakers, and I kept my finger over my ear the whole performance to keep anything in there from bursting. The speakers were so loud and piercing that the balloons decorating the stage kept popping throughout the performance.
When we paraded on stage, everyone cheered at the sight of us. This was good, since really the sight of our white, foreign faces was the most important part of our involvement. We sang a Christmas medley in English and Chinese, and I think we sounded pretty bad. Our music started but then messed up, which was quite a bummer. We were counting on the music to help drowned us out. It was a little painful, but nobody pays a lot of attention anyway. Santa came slinking out several times to distract people as well. (He definitely did slink...talk about creepy Santa). At the end, we allowed ourselves to be mobbed for pictures before heading back home. That's where those security guards in dark glasses ushering you to your limo would come in handy.
Oh yes, and yesterday we led students in singing Christmas Carols in front of the teaching building. Only about 50 came because it was freezing, freezing cold. This time, singing in public wasn’t really bad. The students didn’t sound so great themselves (but then, they were singing songs they had just learned), but they were very enthusiastic. I’m hoping this ends my public singing spree. One week more and we’re out of here. After I have all 140 of my students over to visit next week. Such is the life of a superstar.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Happy DōngZhì
By Kevin"Do you want to come and eat jiaozi with us?" Wes asked, relatively certain that we'd say yes.
After all, today is Dec. 21 -- the first official day of winter, Winter Solstice Festival, or Mid-Winter Festival. "冬至 DōngZhì"
Even in our third year in China, we didn't realize this was a big holiday. Probably got obscured by Christmas in the past.
"It means, winter is coming," explained Lily, our Chinese tutor. She's right. It's been downright cold lately.
Lily and Cherry, Wes' Chinese tutor, came to his apartment at 2 p.m. They went shopping for materials to make dumplings from scratch for five. Around 4:30 p.m., they started making dumplings. It wasn't until after 7:30 p.m. that all of them were cooked and on the table. Cherry and Lily had insisted that we sit down and start eating while they were still in the kitchen -- after all, when you are cooking for guests, traditionally, the cook stays in the kitchen in China. But we were very American about it, so we waited and some of the dumplings got cold.
Lily explained that today most Chinese people would be eating dumplings.
Indeed, by the time we got home at 9 p.m., a roomful of our neighbors was still slaving away in their kitchen (which we can see into from our kitchen) making jiaozi. In fact, by 10:45 p.m. as I post this, they are still going strong.
"We eat dumplings because they are the same shape as ears," she explained. "If we don't eat dumplings today, our ears will freeze this winter." she explained. It seems they do so many things because the sounds of words are the same. This was the first time I could recall hearing that they eat a particular food because it looks like a body part they don't want to get frostbitten.
We laughed and sat down to eat and chat.
We exchanged the different names we have for grandparents, which made me miss Oma and Opa and the rest of my family. Ruth shared about Memaw and Pebaw. The girls shared about their WaiPo (maternal grandmother), LaoYe (maternal grandfather), NaiNai (paternal grandmother) and YeYe (paternal grandfather). The Chinese have separate words for paternal and maternal grandparents, but they explained that they also have pet names they use for their grandparents in their villages.
Eventually, we learned that Lily is an only child because in the time she was born, it was illegal for teachers to have more than one child. "If she had another child, she would loose her job."
Lily, like many in this generation filled with only children, wished that she had a sibling.
Then we learned that Cherry has an older brother who she never calls by his given name. "In our China, you never call anyone in your family who is older than you by their name," Lily explained.
"I remember one time I called him by his name and my mother punished me," Cherry exclaimed. "Now I only use it when I quarrel with him."
Cherry announced that she used to dislike having an older brother, but that the other day, he transferred 700 RMB into her bank account. "Now I like having an elder brother," she said, with a wide grin.
Cherry explained that her parents were going to have a third child, but that one of the leaders in their village noticed her mother's belly getting big. "He took her and drove her to the hospital and she had to have an operation," Cherry said, describing how close her younger brother came to being born. "It's so terrible."
"Those days in China, many things like this happened," explained Lily. "It was horrible."
I shared about my student in Tonghua, who only lived because his mother walked to a nearby village and hid until his birth (I wrote about this on my old blog, which you can visit here).
They explained how the fines for having more than one child were large when they were born, but now they're not as bad. "The fine hasn't changed, but people have more money now," Wes chimed in.
In fact, they have a classmate with seven siblings.
"Now, you can have more children," said Lily. "As long as you can afford them all."
But in spite of the economic growth in China, she said it's not easy for many families with more than one child. For example, she said, college is very expensive. Yearly tuition for students at this college is 4,500 RMB (about $650) -- still a big chunk of change in China.
We explained that families in America face similar difficulties, as college costs climb higher and higher.
"But we always think that America is so rich," Cherry said, surprised.
"But relatively, costs of most things are higher..." I began...
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Another take on a horrible event
Ruth just wrote about the same thing, but we decided to go ahead and post both of our thoughts...I'd encourage you to read hers too...just two different attempts at processing the bad stuff going on here...By Kevin
This was the news we got yesterday morning: a student “fell” to her death from a window on either the 10th or 12th floor of the main building just before 10 a.m. on Saturday. We frantically called and text messaged all of our class monitors, praying that it wasn't one of ours, knowing that whoever it was now left a line of devastated people: parents likely without their only child, friends, roommates and classmates wondering what they could have done to help, school officials trying to deflect blame.
Outside, children played in the courtyard, oblivious to the mourning going on all around them.
Slowly, each messaged back, saying that all their classmates were OK. But some were home for the weekend, so they really hadn't heard.
Although the school blocked reporters from coming on campus, we began to piece together what likely happened from students who saw it happen (we don't REALLY know the details, however, because in China, officials tend to try and keep this sort of thing as quiet as possible, knowing that they may be blamed for it and lose their job, even though, in my opinion, there's absolutely nothing officials could have done to stop it).
One student said she was studying near the pond behind the main building when she saw a shadow fall from the sky, then heard the body hit the ground with a loud thud, and people began crying.
“The body fell beside a girl,” said one student. “She couldn't stop crying.”
Another student shared how she and her roommates hurried to the scene as soon as they heard the news, only to see the bloody form of a body covered in a bloody sheet. “I wish I hadn't gone,” she said, shaking.
“At first I didn't see the blood on the wall, but then my roommates pointed it out,” she said. “I can't get the image from my mind.”
According to news reports and blogs I found using Google translate, one of which showed a photo of a sheet-covered body and others of workers mopping up blood spatter (I'd recommend NOT looking), police were still investigating the cause of death and still trying to determine the girl's identity as late as this morning, because she carried no identification, only keys, and her face was so badly mangled that nobody could identify her.
Rumors swirled. Did she jump? Was she pushed? Some said it was a senior, others a junior. Some suggested a sophomore, and at least one thought it was a freshman. “Maybe she couldn't find a job,” one suggested. Others suggested a romantic falling out, an unwanted pregnancy, or failure to get into graduate school. “There is a lot of pressure.”
But almost everyone speculated suicide.
Another Internet news report posted what it claimed was a suicide note found on the campus square:
“别人的晨读声 Morning Reading other people's voice
匆忙的脚步和我这个闲人 And I am in a hurry in the footsteps of the idlers
半死人简直就是差若天渊 People half to death if it is a vast difference
阿门 Amen
我要死了 I was going to die,
不在今天 Today, not
就在明天 On tomorrow
不在明天 Not tomorrow
就在某天 Just one day
今天心死 Today disheartened
明天身死 Tomorrow dead body
某天得到永生 One day be immortalized”
A student who saw a photo of the body said that it was “too horrible.” “They made me look at it several times,” she said. “I don't know who it was. I can't stop thinking about it.”
One class monitor said that her teachers asked her to call every student in her class at least three times yesterday to confirm that she was able to reach each of them. The school was having a hard time determining who was missing on a campus of some 15,000 students because many live nearby and go home for the weekend.
I pictured all the sets of roommates who spent the night not knowing if the one who didn't come home last night might be dead. It was a few hours before I could sleep.
By this morning, at least one student seemed pretty sure: it was a junior English major from a particular class. Not in a class any of us taught, but in one that Christina's past teammates taught. I was simultaneously relieved and horrified. “How can I be grateful just that it isn't my student. She was still valuable enough for the father to send his son for her.”
So, now I'm left numb: What do you say when a student jumps from the 12th floor of the tallest building on campus – the same building where you'll be trying to give finals on Monday? Is there anything you can say that won't sound trite and incomplete?
I wondered, is there anyone for students to talk to here.
One student explained that there is a psychology department that offers counseling to students.
“We can talk to them, but most students don't feel comfortable,” she said.
“Most of our teachers will pretend this did not happen,” another said. “They will come into class, teach, then leave. We don't know who to talk to.”
We talked with them, then played dominoes, in hopes of easing their spirits a bit, then offered to pray with them.
Walking around campus today, I felt the spirit say that I needed to just sit, listen and observe near the pond behind the main building.
Unsurprisingly, almost everyone who passed by lifted their heads toward the window the girl jumped from. The ground was still wet from cleaning crews trying to clean away the blood, but one area in particular was darker than others, suggesting a landing site. The few students I saw walk towards it took tentative steps and held the hand or arm of a friend.
I felt the father say, “This is still holy ground. I am here.”
A pair of students, seeing me, asked if I'd heard the news.
One said that she was in the building when it happened. When word spread, she looked out the window and saw the bloody body. “Horrible.”
“When you were at university, did you experience this?” she asked.
“I didn't,” I said. “But I saw dead bodies when I worked as a journalist. You're right, it is horrible.”
“It's terrible,” said one. “It seems like now everybody is pessimistic, not optimistic anymore. I don't know why.”
I wanted to shake her.
“I think that everybody's thinking about death and their troubles,” I managed. “In my experience, people try to avoid thinking about those kinds of things.”
Like I said, where do you start?
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