I so wish I’d had a pair of green dragon shoes when I was a kiddo. In 6 short weeks I’ll be coming back to the states for good…for now anyhow. Regardless of the ever-frightening job market, I’m confident I’ll be able to find something, anything to do with teaching.
For now, I’ll just have to content myself with these ridiculously cute dragon shoes for my niece and nephew.
Happy Monday!
Two days ago a student called to ask if I would like to tutor her calligraphy teacher’s daughter. Having been forewarned about this person by a colleague who has had to field strange texts from this 40 something year old single man, I was prepared. I replied by saying that I was booked with students and that my time was almost up here in China. I had hoped that she’d get the gentle nudge and leave it at that. But no…instead she asked if I would speak with her teacher and almost handed over the phone.
“Jaime can you speak with my teacher? He wants his daughter to learn English.”
“No, I am busy and the term is almost over. I am going to America soon.”
“Oh…he is here, can you speak with him?”
“Is this the same man who has been talking with your other teacher?”
“Yes.”
“Then no. He seems odd and inappropriate. I do not feel comfortable speaking with him.”
“Oh, I am sorry. Will you teach his daughter?”
“No.”
I left it at that. Only…the problem came back to me. My student, apparently not understanding the gentle ‘no’ gave my phone number to the man I just told her I was not comfortable with. Perhaps he pressured her, perhaps she did not understand my subtle ‘no.’ Perhaps she did not care. Either way, she put me in a very awkward position this morning as I received the following texts.
Crazy Mr. Lv: Hello Jaime, I want to you learning english. Are you free?
Me: Who is this?
Crazy Mr. Lv:
Crazy Mr. Lv: I’m Mr. Lv, I want to exam doctor degree of china art of university. Do you help please.
Me: No. How did you get my number?
Crazy Mr. Lv: from your school my student, do you mind?
Me: Yes I do mind. I do not want to tutor you. I have no time and feel very uncomfortable teaching single men.
Crazy Mr. Lv: I hope let us make good friend. I am study calligrapher.
Me: NO! I do not want to be your friend. I am angry. Go away.
Crazy Mr. Lv: Think you good morning.
I sound like a mean old hag, but I’ve recently discovered that being direct is often much easier on you in the long run…especially if you are a single young woman in a foreign country.
I feel bad saying it, but most of the time I don’t eat Chinese food. Tuesdays and Wednesdays are probably my two favorite days of the week - despite the full teaching days and exhaustion that inevitably follows. On these two days my co-worker Chris and I head out to the Food Street - affectionately called either ‘snack street’ or ‘snake street’ by those who cannot pronounce ‘snack’ correctly. We head over to one of two Indian/Pakistani food places - situated in a concrete block reminiscent of a garage with a roll-down door. The whole affair is truly creepy - I feel like I’m in part of “Silence of the Lambs” on dreary days, “Little Shop of Horrors” on sunny ones.
However, the one-man kitchen, barely large enough for a full-sized stove, pumps out delicious and spicy Indian food. My particular favorite is the spicy Ghost with veggie and chicken, but like a drugged fiend, I’ll take whatever I can get here. Tuesdays and Wednesdays have made themselves fully visible in my ever-growing physique…I didn’t know that layers of fat could actually cramp on you while sitting. But, I just can’t say no to any of it, my mantra instead goes something along the lines of ‘to hell with it! I’m going to eat EVERYTHING I can see while I’m here.’
EAT ALL THE THINGS!
We’ll just leave it at that.
Every Thursday and Monday - my two days off incidentally - I head over to the local pasty shop - Left Bank of France. This is one of a few places where I can find almost authentic french bread and coffee that won’t make me gag. Of course, now that my French Press coffeemaker is growing mold out of neglect, I have been forced to go here out of necessity. The coffee isn’t so bad, and the girls behind the counter have even begun trying to speak English with me - it’s quite funny really.
“Mei se caffe,” I ask with much confidence. It’s about the only drink I can order in Chinese.
“Oh, Mei She caffee?’
“Ugh, ugh,” because most things are guttural I’m learning.
“Rude? Binde?” she asks rolling her r’s like a Spaniard.
Hmm…binde = brr = cold, so rude must be hot by this process of elimination. “Rude.”
Chinese bakeries make the most interesting confections. I’m always impressed when I walk in - one day it was a Chinese tank with a star on the side, one day a giant pig cake, a barbie cake, and today…a BREAST CAKE!
This is by far the best thing I’ve seen all week. I had to do a double take and whipped out my camera to take a photo. Naturally, the proud chef stood by, watching me like a hawk. Realizing I was about to take a picture of a cake made to look like a very full bra, he laughed, pointed and waved to his buddies in the kitchen.
Oh China.
Every Friday I meet with several other foreign English teachers for an afternoon lunch of Chinese-ified pizza. Overpriced as it may be, it’s nice to have English-speaking company, especially when I don’t have to sit and translate poorly articulated Chinglish into real English.
However, just around the corner from this booming, bustling business center in Chashan - Tea Mountain - where I have classes, there is a great walled-in expanse of undeveloped land. Jutting out in the background are the new apartments where, if I had decided to stay on another year, I’d be living. Was this some undeveloped land for housing? Was it land for a future shopping mall addition? No, silly! It’s a trash heap!
Thankfully I’m not going to be here in the fall, and thankfully I won’t have to endure the burning smell of trash at 6 a.m., 3:45 p.m., and 10:30 p.m.
Oh China!
One of my teaching acquaintances has this FABULOUS tumblr site for creative writing ideas and prompts. I must admit that I’ve used these many a time in a pinch and have elaborated on several for lengthy writing assignments. This one in particular touched home for me today as I begin to think about heading back the states in July. While contemplating my existence I kept ruminating on two questions:
Just how the heck am I supposed to tell the story of a year?
Holy Cow…is this how Chinese people see me?!
465
While enjoying my weekly trek to the foreign goods store, I happened upon this man dutifully pruning back the trees. Up high in the tree, on a branch I wouldn’t trust my cat on, climbed a man, pulling and hacking branches off the trees.
Just another day in sunny Wenzhou.
They’re American…I swear!
Dearest China,
You have somehow managed to put one of the most horrid words in the English language in an almost funny context.
Thank you,
Sincerely,
Concerned US Citizen
5pg:
skipping rape
(via sirnathandouglashunt)
There’s Mary Kay pink…and then there’s PINK! Judging by how much these rich Wenzhounese men like their pink shirts, pink shoes, pink bags and pink…pants, this was the only logical next step.
For what it’s worth…this is probably some man’s car. I like to know there are some men in the world who aren’t afraid of the color pink!
So…many who know me, know that I have almost zero desire to have children. Part of the appeal of being a teacher is that I get to hang out with ‘youngsters’ all day and then go home to my quiet, calm, tranquil home. It’s not that I don’t like kids, because I do, but I have no desire to have one of my own - we’ll put it this way - I’m a much better auntie than I would be a mother. I mean…when given the option of moving to the other side of the globe, I dropped my cat off on my grandparents’ door and left. I think he still harbors some resentment.
Anyhow, what I love about kids (other than not having them in my home) is their sheer spontaneity. Tutoring 9 - 14 year olds in my apartment every Saturday and Sunday has taught me quite a bit of patience and how to truly laugh. These kids are quirky, slightly misbehaved and are almost completely uninhibited. One asked me last week, “teacher, why you don’t have a boyfriend? You are old.”
While my tutoring students are no longer phased by my obvious foreignness, the kids on the street outside my apartment still are. It’s not their fault really, because China is such a homogenized society (meaning everyone looks similar); they can’t help staring any more than their parents can. Depending on my mood, it can bother me, but such is life.
Last night I was in a good mood as I stepped out into the warm May air. We’ve had a series of nice days with cool evenings. I haven’t had to turn up the air conditioner yet, so I was content to enjoy the Wendi Lu nightlife as couples strolled up and down the street, window-shopping while wearing their children out before bed. One child in particular caught my eye. About 3 1/2 years old, and perhaps 2 1/2 feet tall, this kid - in a BRIGHT CALTRANS ORANGE T-shirt - stopped himself in the middle of the sidewalk, swinging his arms, daring the passers-by to come within his two-foot air space.
I kept a distance, making sure to walk out of his way, but like a bear to honey or a raccoon to trash, the little heathen found me! As I was side-stepping to get out of his arm-trajectory, he began intercepting my path. Still swinging his arms, he turned his body towards me and SMACK! The little pest clapped my huge foreign thigh with both his hands, and unremorsefully looked away to his next victim.
“I’ve just been molested by a child?” I quickly thought. Rather than dwell on it, glare at the kid, or confront his parents (who probably goaded him into it), I simply shrugged it off and walked on. There was no way this little monster was going to ruin my good mood and nice evening.
Kids…they do oddest things!
(Source: donwu, via sirnathandouglashunt)
My life is now almost complete. I’ve defied death on several occasions, once skydiving, once crossing the street in Wenzhou, and now having braved the Hangzhou streets in a metal frame on wheels.
And yes, we did drive on the wrong side of the road for a good portion of the trip.
Another enlightening travel talk with David leaves me searching for ways to make it to Li Jiang in the Yunnan province. Perhaps a trip through the Three Gorges on the Yangtsze. For now I’ll simply have to sip my tea enviously, imagining myself on a small reed boat with a gorgeously sun-tanned and muscled Chinese man showing me the sights.
Sigh…
Poster c. 1930; Butterfield and Swire Co.
Picture of the eclipse on May 20, 2012 over China.
(via overpackedunderpaid)
Birdie birdie in the sky…
Thus began the poem of a 9th grade boy; I remember it because the poor bird ended up dead – decapitated or dead in some other fashion. Thinking it was this young man’s way of dealing with inner issues of violence or some odd – if not creepy – fascination with dead things. Teenage boys are a complete mystery to me. Regardless, I gave it little thought until nearly a year later.
Deep sleep is a dream, it’s one of the best things I can get in this loud country, and it’s incredibly difficult to find. I’ve taken to sleeping with earplugs, and when those aren’t readily available I’ve made do with the air conditioner blasting and piles of clean clothes on top of my head. Anything to drown out the endless cries of babies, dogs, cats, calls from the trash and rice guys, front door bells, frying foods, the screams from my one floor up, two doors over neighbors and the inevitable honking horn language that infiltrates my apartment on a daily…hourly basis.
I awoke on Saturday too early, the light only barely filtering through my curtains into the room. “Oh no…” I thought with a groan, my arm fruitlessly searching my desk for the spare earplugs I usually have laying around. No luck.
By this time I was almost awake – something I do not relish before its natural time. 5:15 a.m., when I’ve allowed myself to sleep in until 7 a.m. is not a natural time. Insert bird – what had woken me up? None other than the delighted (loaded with sarcasm) tweeting of a lone bird outside my window. I’m sure the darned thing has created a nest atop the air conditioner unit outside my bedroom window. I hate birds.
Most people I know think they are lovely creatures, signs that you really are in a natural and beautiful setting. I however, have a quite tenuous relationship with them. They are sneaky, flying rats in my opinion. Whilst living in Portland, our gardens were routinely riffled through by these beasts with wings – almost as bad as dragons if you ask me! And, on top of everything, no matter where I go, where I live or how many pre-emptive strikes I make, there is always a lone bird who’s made it his mission to disturb my sleep as much as possible.
That’s it! They’ve found me in China and I’m going insane!! Aghshaha;aoigha;ogh;adgjs;agjsd;adshg;oaihgoaihg;kjsnd!!!
“Birdie, birdie in the sky…”