Perspective

There are some lessons I need to learn over, and over, and over again – and still they don’t stick.  Yesterday was one of those days where even the simplest task seemed to take on new layers of complications.  If asked, I would probably have answered, I was having a bad day.

Close to an hour after Josh left for school I got a call from him.  “Mom, the shuttle took off almost 20 minutes late and it went to Jiuzhou Port before Gongbei, so I am going to be a least a half hour late to school.  Can you e-mail Mr. Farwell (the principal) and tell him I will be late?”  I e-mailed the principal, informing him of the situation and also requesting that he let me know that Josh did, in fact, eventually get to school.  While waiting to hear back from him, I spent some time catching up on the Caring Bridge journal from a friend battling leukemia.  Her most recent entry talked about the very real possibility she will need to have a stem cell transplant.  She was waiting on the results of a blood test and if she is positive for NPM-1, and negative for FLT-3, she could continue with chemo and not need to have a stem cell transplant at this time.  

After hearing that Josh did indeed arrive at his school, and repeating –NPM1, +FLT3 in a combination prayer and mantra, I set off to catch my own shuttle to go to Jusco, a department store in a downtown area of Zhuhai.  When I arrived at the location where the shuttle buses usually wait, there were no buses, and instead I found a pink sign announcing a change in the schedule and the routes. 

There used to be two shuttles  - one that ran on the hour and went to Ziuzhou Port – with a stop right near Jusco, and another that ran basically on the half hour and went to Gongbei.  Now there was only one route, it would travel first to the port then to Gongbei and it ran less frequently.  This explained why Josh’s trip to school that morning did not go as smoothly as in the past and threw a kink into my plan.  There was no 11 o’clock shuttle, and I didn’t feel like waiting until noon for the next one. Having taken the city bus (either #3 or #69) home from Jusco in the past, I figured it would be just as simple to take the city bus there and marched over to the bus stop and hopped on #3 heading south.  I watched the familiar landmarks go by, then started to watch carefully for the stop right in front of Jusco.  I never saw it.  Next thing I knew we were heading into the tunnel on our way to the extreme southwest side of the city – Gongbei.  At this point I felt myself growing furious and frustrated.

As the bus twisted and turned along its way, I went back to focusing on “positive for NPM-1, and negative for FLT-3” and telling myself I really did not need to be anywhere today, and I would find my way back.  Arriving in Gongbei I decided to wander through the massive underground shopping area before catching a bus to travel back to the extreme NE part of Zhuhai where I live.  With the right attitude a trip through the underground can be quite entertaining.  Ninety percent of the merchandise is jiade (fake).  I checked out the knock-off Kipling bags and found a few with labels that said Kiplig.  But really, I did not have the right attitude that particular day, and decided to just find my way above ground and catch a bus back to more familiar territory.  Not surprisingly, finding my way out to the main street where I entered turned out to be a more formidable task than I counted on, and by this time I was getting really hungry, and as my dear friend Sue W. would say, “peckish.”  Eventually I did find my way back, boarded a #69 bus, and convinced myself that this one had to stop right by Jusco, because I had taken it home from Jusco many times.  Again, familiar scenery, landmark after landmark, and then I saw the Dragon Union Station!  And I knew we were back near Tangjia and somehow I missed the Jusco stopped yet again.  I got off at Hai Yi Wan Pan, walked into Park and Shop, bought two pieces of Pesto pizza, sat down on the bench outside, ate my pizza and stewed.  I had now spent almost the whole day riding buses and still had not gotten where I was going.  I had also dripped oil from the pizza down the front of my shirt, so I returned to my apartment, changed my shirt, returned to the shuttle stop and caught the 2:30 shuttle that, in the end, took me to Jusco.  My main task was to pick up a fitted sheet for Josh’s bed.  With the humidity here, and no dryers, you cannot count on anything line-drying in a timely fashion.  While none of the sales people speak English, the woman working in bedding found a piece of paper that identified items in both Chinese and English, and once we established that it was a “fitted sheet” I was looking for, I began using a combinations of mime and picture drawing to communicate I was looking for fitted sheet for a boy (initially she was handing me pink floral patterns) then clarifying it was a “big boy” after she started handing me blue sheets with various cartoon figures.  Finally we settled on a “manly” blue stripe, I returned to the bus stop and caught the #69 bus back to Hai Yi Wan Pan, and felt satisfied I had accomplished what I set out to do.  Back at the apartment, I took the sheet out of the package and discovered it was a “flat sheet.” 

At this point, I gave myself a short lecture on perspective, repeated my “positive for NPM-1, and negative for FLT-3” mantra and sat down to read the New York Times Global edition on-line.  The first thing I saw was “Earthquake and Tsunami hits Japan.”  The article had been posted 15 minutes before I turned on my computer.  It had all happened in the last hour.  Then I turned the television on and watched CCTV – the English language station.  Over the course of the evening I watched the images become more and more devastating.  I called Josh and asked him to be home before 8:30PM, because the road to our part of Zhuhai travels right along the seashore, and initially our province (Guangdong) was included in the Tsunami warning.  The warning was lifted, but I was still relieved when Josh arrived back at the apartment.

I don’t know why it is so hard to keep the big picture in view.  March 11^th truly was a horrible day for millions of people in this world.  Tragedies continue to mount through out Libya, Bahrain, Yemen and so many other battle weary nations. Journalists and dissidents are still being detained here in China.  It will be days before we know the extent of the devastation in Japan.  In retrospect, I didn’t have a bad day at all.

Potluck

This past Friday evening I was invited to a potluck dinner at the new apartment of one of my colleagues in the General Education Division.  “Potluck” also seemed like an appropriate metaphor for the faculty of the General Education division that were in attendance:  Nazul, our host, is a sociologist from Bangladesh; Victor, my upstairs neighbor, is a historian from Panama, Mat is a philosopher from the U.S., , Milen is a sociologist from Bulgaria, Ivette is a Buddist scholar, from New York City but returning to a job in Texas at the end of this term, a friendly woman whose name I don’t recall, is a Chinese language scholar, from China, but recently returning from 15 years in Australia and a few others who’s names and disciplines I don’t recall.  My favorite moment was just before we were about to eat and Nazul was explaining what was in the Indian rice and chicken curry he had prepared, and a few latecomers arrived.  Nazul said, “I was just introducing the food.”  After the food had been properly introduced, wine and orange juice was poured, toasts were made and we dug in.  Ivette had celebrated a birthday the week before and brought a lovely strawberry cheesecake so that the celebration could continue. 

Unfortunately, right about that time my cell phone rang, and when I answered it, Josh said, “Mom, I don’t feel good.”  Fortunately, the party was just two building away, and I was able to scoot home quickly.  I am not sure if it was a type of stomach flu, or some kind of food poisoning, but suffice it to say, he had a very rough evening.  By about midnight the worst of it seemed to have past and he slept quite soundly until Saturday morning.  It was a weekend of Sprite and Saltines for Josh, and catching up on grading for me. 

Both Saturday and Sunday, I did walk to Tangjia to pick up a few groceries and just get some fresh air.  I had not been in Tangjia on the weekend, and did not realize the extent of the huge market that spills over into the commercial area.  Both times I brought my camera, but only managed to take a few photos.  Walking back I thought more about my reluctance to take photos.  Here in Zhuhai, the college and university faculty are considered among the financial elite. While our apartments are modest by U.S. standards, we do live in a “gated community.” But just beyond that fence are parts of Tangjia that, to most American eyes, look like a slum.  It is not all that way, but there is significant poverty pressed right up to modest, yet working class, establishments.  

I want to take photographs because I want to remember this experience and I want to share it with others.  I want to photograph the woman on the bicycle selling chickens out of the cage on the back of her bike, and the fish venders, with plastic bins and children’s swimming pools filled with fresh fish. Or the multitude of individuals selling produce along the sidewalks in the main commercial area.  But I don’t.  I try my best to always ask permission before I include a person in a photo, and as of yet I don’t know how to ask that in Cantonese.

There are so many fruits and vegetables there that I don’t even recognize.  Today I bought strawberries, kiwi and oranges.  I need to get one of my students to go to the markets with me and tell me the names of some of the produce.  Once I know the name of something I can always “google it” and figure out what to do with it.

I often write down bits and pieces of language that inspire me.  In a collection of the best of women’s travel writing Andrea Oseas wrote, “Bring an open mind, comfort with ambiguity, and a measure of recklessness, the siren breathes in your ear, and each day will be exhilarating.”  Fortunately for me, I do not have to be too reckless to find a market full of fresh produce  - exhilarating.

The Way it Is.

As you can well imagine, living in Mainland China while antigovernment demonstrations surge across the Middle East presents some new layers of complications.  Censors have intensified the filters on Internet access that were already considered “the tightest in the world.” As most people who have lived in this area can tell you there are “special tools” to get around some of those barriers.  However, I have come to suspect that using those “special tools” to circumvent the system, together with this increased level of scrutiny that might have been responsible for my Internet repeatedly being shut down.  My top priority is to have regular access to e-mail and Skype, so I have decided to play within the rules.  Given the fact that the Internet company has my passport number on file, this seems like a prudent choice. 

I will continue to post to my blog via my good friend, Kris, who originally helped me to set up my blog and designed the fabulous logo for MAD & TAJ.  I will not be able to read the comments posted there on any regular basis.  I will have very limited access to facebook.  Hong Kong and Macao do not have the same level of restrictions and are relatively close by.  When I am in either of those locations I will find an Internet café and check in on facebook.  In the meantime, if you want to communicate with me, good old e-mail is best. (mrusinko@gustavus.edu)

This past week I was reading an article on-line about problems with soldiers being too connected (constant text messaging and Skyping) with family at home.  The battalion chaplain described the young soldiers as “the microwave generation,” implying that there is an expectation that needs, be it hunger or communication, will be met quickly. (New York Times, July 25)

While I am old enough to be most of those soldiers’ mother, I find myself equally guilty of microwave mentality.  Circumstances require that I dial it back for the next few months.  Not a bad practice under any circumstances.

 After work today I walked to Tangjia (the commercial area closest to where I live) to pick up a few items at the grocery store, and bring home dumplings for dinner.  After five pm much of the area turns into a huge farmers’ market.  The produce is quite amazing.  Very few adults in the area speak any English, but obviously the children are studying English in school because they all like to say “hello” to me.  As I become more comfortable in the area I will take more photos. 

The weather in the area is currently quite beautiful.  It is in the low to mid 60’s in the morning, and goes up to low to mid 70’s during the day.  I continue to enjoy observing day-to-day life within the apartment complex.  The buildings surround two long artificial lakes with walkways on either side, and bridges placed at strategic points.  In the morning, I see retired folks exercising at the stations that are placed next to every bridge.  This morning I saw an older woman (I am guessing in her 70’s) stretching with her leg placed as high as her shoulder on a ladder-like set of bars. One evening I saw an older gentleman practicing Tai Chi as the sun was setting. 

The apartments around the lakes.

In the early evening I hear individuals, school children I assume, practicing piano, flute and trumpet.   There are numerous dogs, of all sizes and shapes, residing in the complex.  Mornings and evenings, dogs and their owners are out getting their exercise.  There is one woman who sings while she walks her dog. 

And there are much-adored babies.  The one child policy has resulted in many caregivers for every child.  It is sometimes referred to as “4-2-1.” Which stands for four grandparents, two parents and one child.  At UIC we were warned that this configuration leads to certain “little emperor issues” with some students but I have yet to experience this.  I am thoroughly enjoying getting to know my students.  I am once again teaching a class on the role and practice of “Story and Storytelling.”  The first day that the students shared their stories, I realized that no matter how many books I read, or where I travel in the next few months, I will learn more about China from their stories than from any other source.  (And I will do my best to keep you posted.)

Still Learning to be a Teacher

Yesterday after work I took a yoga class that is offered on campus.  I arrived about 15 minutes early, rolled my yoga mat out and rested on my back.  I felt myself become quite emotional and on the edge of tears.  I realized it was the first time I had completely “let down” since arriving here.  I had not been aware of the level of tension I was holding everywhere in my body.  Because I do not want to get lost, or accidently offend someone, I find that I operate with a heightened sense of awareness at all times.  Unfortunately, the yoga teacher seemed to be a former gymnast with minimal yoga training (and minimal English) who wanted us to do extreme back flexion moves that I knew could potentially incapacitate me for weeks.  Hearing the wise voices of my past yoga teachers I did my best to stay in my own practice, and made it through the class.  In the future, I will develop my own kinder and gentler yoga practice and do it in the privacy of my apartment.

Today was a beautiful, sunshine-filled spring day here in Zhuhai.  Genie, our fabulous teaching assistant in the General Education Office, walked with me through the Zhuhai campus of Beijing Normal University (BNU), where I took a few photographs and she took a few photos of me.  UIC is directly next to BNU.  All and all it was a lovely day until I returned to my apartment at about 5:00PM and, once again, could not connect to the Internet.  In that moment, I could feel my chest get a little tighter and my breathing become shallower.  I was particularly frustrated because late Friday evening is when I try to speak with my mom on Skype (11:00PM my time is 9:00 AM her time) – and I was concerned that would not happen. 

My office mate, and upstairs neighbor, Victor, has quickly becoming an important part of my support network here.  He only arrived in August, but has a good sense of the area and speaks some Chinese.  This evening we walked to a “noodle place” in Tangjia – the commercial center of this northeast corner of Zhuhai.  Yanyan, another important person in my life here, introduced me to this restaurant earlier in the week.  My Gustavus colleague, Mike Hvidsten, taught at UIC during the 2009/2010 academic year and Yanyan had been his teaching assistant.  She is bubbly and bright and has taken me under her wing since I arrived.  Yangzhou Fried Rice has become my comfort food of choice, and once I had eaten a generous portion of that, and walked back to Hai Yi Wan Pan, I was feeling a little better.

Then, miracle of miracles, my Internet was magically working again.  

This says "Learn to be a teacher for others; act as a model to the world."

At BNU, Genie had taken me into the building that contained the calligraphy of the “motto” for the school.  It says “Learn to be a teacher for others; act as a model to the world.”  In these moments when being abroad feels overwhelming, I know I am learning lessons that will make me a better teacher.  As to acting as a model for the world – that is a little more than I am willing to take on right now.  

Strange Dreams

Last night I went to sleep in my pajamas, a fleece pullover, a long sweatshirt, Josh’s flannel pants and two pairs of socks.  I was warm, cozy and slept soundly.  I had two strange dreams.  In the first one I was at some sort of Water Park.  A former student named, Ron, was there and he wanted me to try the slide.   It was a long tube, but unlike tube slides at water parks I am familiar with, this one was filled with water and you needed to hold your breath all the way through.  Ron entered the slide feet first and reached up to hold my feet to make sure I got all the way through.  The tube was longer, and because of the water inside, slower than I expected.  I got panicky toward the end because I did not think I could hold my breath that long.  In the dream, I did make it through and swam to the surface for a breath of air.   I had to chuckle when I woke up immediately following that gulp of air.  Oh so many possible interpretations of that dream!  In terms of adjusting to my new environment, it is a long way to the other side of that slide.  

In my second dream some nasty, centipede type creature had attached itself to my second toe.  I was kicking hysterically and which resulted in the majority of the creature’s body tearing away leaving only it’s head attached.  I really have no interpretation on that one, and will just file that away under bizarre dreams.

The strangest thing just happened.  My blackberry phone, which I only use for an alarm clock, just beeped with a message, and then rang.  Both were announcements about a snowstorm at Gustavus.  The reason this is surprising is that it has been my experience up until now that my American blackberry does not work here under any circumstances.  I quickly texted Bob, and the small indicator said “D” – as in delivered.  Bob replied he was just getting off the train in Washington D.C. and would call when he got to the station.  True to his word, a few minutes later the phone rang again, and both Josh and I had a chance to speak to him briefly.  Another breath of unexpected air!

Over breakfast Josh was telling me how the locals call him “Gwailo” – Gwai Lo literally means “ghost man” and is a common way to refer to Caucasians in Cantonese.  The shuttle bus driver, “Gwailo want off?”  The Starbuck’s cashier shouting instructions to the barista, “Gwailo want caramel macchiato!”  (Yes, there is a Starbuck’s in Zhuhai.  Josh has been there.  I have not.)

The first Internet guys arrived at shortly after 9:00 AM just as planned.  After a great deal of exploration, they determined the problem was not related to the equipment in my apartment, but was a bigger issue with lines in and out of the building.  They needed to arrange for additional help to look into the situation.  (After numerous phone calls, they handed the phone to me and Jessica was on the line, and explained the situation to me.) I do not teach on Mondays so I agreed to stay home and they said they would try to get someone here today.  At 3:30PM I got a phone call saying someone should arrive around 4:00PM. 

Before the Internet went out, I had downloaded Peter Hessler’s Oracle Bones so I spent the long, quiet day of waiting in my apartment happily reading that.  I had started reading Country Driving before I left.  He is a great writer and storyteller, and I am sure I will devour everything he has written in the time I am here.  He weaves history, geography, politics and sheer hilarity into memoirs about living and working in China.

Okay, it took a good hour and half but they figured it out and I am once again connected to the world!  Maybe being cut off from air was about being cut off from the Internet.  Maybe the creature attached to my toe was about my dependency on instant communication.  Who knows?  I think this Gwaipor (ghost woman) thinks too much. 

Hui Yi Wan Pan

Our seventh floor apartment faces the back of our building, and looks directly across the street on to the back of an identical building.  Someone on the fourth floor of that building keeps birds on his balcony.  I can see three birdcages on one side, two hanging in front of the balcony, and at least one on the other side.  In the mornings when I am first moving around, someone is often out there feeding the birds.  On the first floor of that building lives a cat lady.  To the best I can tell, she has 16 cats.  Her apartment opens in to a small yard surrounded by a fence.  She comes out with all the cats in the morning, and feeds them.  When she returns to her apartment there is a flurry of furry followers that makes it difficult to count. 

We live in Parc Paros #18. A resident on the second floor of our building keeps a St. Bernard on their balcony.  Their apartment faces the front of #18 and Josh and I always talk and wave at the dog when we arrive at the entrance to our building.   Every day at about 5:00 PM two or three elderly gentlemen gather in the small lobby of #18 to play what I believe is Chinese Chess.  It fascinates me and I always want to linger and see if I can figure out more about the game.

Birds on the Balcony

 All of the balconies have two drying racks (thin metal beams with holes evenly spaced where you can insert hangers) that are suspended close to the ceiling and lowered via a pulley system attached to the wall. On Friday, I bought a drying rack to put inside the house, assembled it and figured out how to use the washing machine.  Currently I have clothes hanging both inside and outside and our apartment looks like laundry central.  When I first arrived Jessica (the kind International Ed staff member who helped us get settled, and serves as my “go-between” whenever I am dealing with language barriers) had taken a digital photo of the instructions on the washing machine and then printed the photo and translated the instructions for me.  It is a simple machine and works well, but it does not seem to have any temperature options.  Everything is always washed at the same temperature, which judging from sticking my hand in the water is cold.  It is tricky to tell when anything is completely dry because at about 50˚F I can’t tell if it is still damp or just cold to the touch.  I try to tell myself to quit whining about the cold because in no time at all it will be over 90˚F.

At UIC, I share an office with a historian named Victor.  We discovered he lives in the apartment directly above us at #18.  We also figured out that last Monday, when we had Internet installed in our apartment, Victor’s Internet quit working.  Yesterday, the Internet technicians came to fix his Internet, and once his was working – ours no longer worked.  Of course by the time I discovered this, the technicians had left the building.  I will wait until later in the day to call Jessica as I hate to bother her on the weekend.  She helps international staff but her first responsibility is to the international students and I believe she has had her hands full with that. 

Josh went home from school on Friday with his buddy, Anthony, and last night Anthony spent the night here.  When Josh texted me to ask if it was okay for Anthony to stay over, I said it was fine but he needed to bring a big blanket with him because our apartment is frigid. The forecast predicts it is supposed to warm up some this week and I really hope that is accurate.  (Of course I cannot check the current forecast because I don’t have Internet!!)

Josh and Anthony

Negotiating this 14 hour time difference has been tricky for communications with home.  Bob is currently out east for a number of meetings so the time difference is only 13 hours.  The most frustrating part of not having Internet service at this time is that this morning we had a scheduled “Skype” date.  We had very intermittent Internet service throughout Europe and Israel, but in both of those locations our Blackberry phones worked so we could always communicate through e-mail or “blackberry messenger.”  Here our U.S. phones don’t work at all, so when the Internet goes down I feel particularly cut off.  These days, I, like many others, am so used to instant communication that I begin to feel as if it is an entitlement and I have been cruelly wronged when it is not available to me.  Given the situation at hand, an attitude adjustment seems my only option. 

Happy New Year - it is the Year of the Rabbit.

One thing that has worked well in our apartment is the hot water.  I don’t quite understand the system, but it is environmentally more progressive and heats the water only when you need it.  Whatever the system, a hot shower is a luxury I thoroughly appreciate and think it is the best course of action for facilitating the above mentioned attitude adjustment. 

(Six hours later . . .)

Josh, Anthony and I headed over to the Xiangzhou area so Josh could get some of the food he remembered so fondly from his first days here and I could try to find a yoga mat.   Anthony informed Josh that the “fat noodles” included in the bowls of ramen were most likely some sort of intestine, and that ingredient quickly lost its appeal.  He is still a big fan of the dumplings.  I found a yoga mat and a few other items and caught the shuttle back to Hui Yi Wan Pan (Horizon Cove).  It was a little warmer today and while still hazy, it did not actually rain.  My Internet guys are suppose to be here about 9:00AM, and, fingers crossed, I will back in touch with the world later in the day. 

Wings

My father was 41 years old when I was born, and I was 41 years old when my son, Josh, was born.  Because my dad was a police officer he was profoundly aware of the fragility of life.  He never really expected to see his three children live into adulthood, and his parenting slogan was “I am not always going to be here, so you need to learn to take care of yourself.”  This morning, as I sent Josh off on his own to catch the shuttle to take him to the other side of the city, I realized how much of that attitude I carry with me. 

Fortunately, my dad lived to be almost 87 years old, and for most of those years he continued to take care of me in a number of ways.  Still, I take nothing for granted in life.  I hope with all my heart that I live a long and healthy life and live to see Josh well into his adult years.  Drawing on an over used cliché, I spent the first decade of his life trying to give him strong roots.  I now believe it is my job to give him opportunities to stretch and strengthen his wings.  I want those wings to carry him wherever he chooses to go in this life and recognize I could be laying the groundwork for those wings to carry him far away from me.

It is with this awareness I find the time we are spending together all the more precious.  Before we left on this journey I had joked with many of my friends that I hoped Josh and I would still be on speaking terms by the end of this year.  At home we regularly bash heads over the most mundane things - his music is always too loud, his cell phone battery dies and he is unreachable, and his diet of pizza and coke makes me insane.  All of which are typical ingredients for tensions between parents and teenagers.  While traveling together we rarely argue.  We laugh a lot and, most importantly, we take care of each other. 

Before we left in October I was speaking to my mom about my anxiety concerning the upcoming trip.  I realized the last time I had really challenged my own wings and taken a big leap into the unknown was in 1981 when I left my position as a high school biology teacher at Apple Valley High School, and moved to Tempe, AZ, to pursue my Master of Fine Arts in Dance at Arizona State.  I have most happily been with my husband (and best friend) for 26 years, at Gustavus for 23 years, and lived in the same house for 22 years.  As you can see, I am not really big on change.

While I believe in the power of words, I believe more strongly in axiom, actions speak louder than words.  So here we are.  Whatever convoluted logic got us here – I am happy we are here.