Home Again, Home Again

This Friday marked our last day of teaching our kiddos. It's been a whirlwind of emotions around here this last week. Most of last week was spent rehearsing for the final performances- Thursday night for the younger kids, Friday night for the older kids. 

On Friday we got to spend all morning playing with and taking pictures with the kids. 

Green group- these little guys have been the most
rambunctious group, and consequently the most adorable. 

All the younger kids. This is as collected of a picture as we were gonna get. 

Fifi, Rocco, and Helen. 

For my home group -purple- I bought a blank scroll
and had my kids put their handprint on it. I wrote
their English and Chinese names underneath. It
turned out to be a pretty cute keepsake. 

During the Thursday night performance, the younger kids tugged at our heartstrings and refused to let go. The night consisted of English children's songs and oh-so-Chinese dancing and singing. At the end, all of us teachers sang "Getting to Know You" from the King and I. Never was there a more relevant song to a situation.

Sweet, sweet Juno would not stop weeping on our shoulders,
he was so distraught at our departure.
If my kids are half as loving as him,  I will be content. 

The older kids performance was a bit less....emotional. First of all, we were given the task of ruining our sweet children's faces with unnecessary stage makeup- white foundation, bright red blush, and garish shades of eyeshadow. Purple eyeshadow for the girls, blue for the boys. Yes, even the boys. Even more surprisingly, there was only one boy who resisted playing dress up doll. In the words of Jessica, our poor kids looked like a mix between clowns and prostitutes.

Sadly, the older kids didn't really seem to process that we were leaving, even though we were assured that they were informed in their native language. Each "See you monday, teacha!" was painful to hear. The end of the younger kids' performance was appropriately heart-rending. Seeing the older kids for the last time was just awkward. Ah, well. I got my share of good-bye cuddles from Baby Rick.

Baby Rick. This kid is Abu from Aladdin personified. Squeaks and everything.

This weekend has been full of packing, cleaning, and trying to finish off the food in the cupboards-which has meant lots of plain ramen noodles and oatmeal. Have I mentioned how excited I am to go home? 

Four months is a perfect length of time to have been here. It has been a blast. Although participating in ILP wasn't exactly what I had always planned to be doing the fall after graduation, I know that it's improved me in irreplicable ways, and I'm so grateful to have had this experience.

Thanks to everybody for all the prayers and thoughts sent my way, and to everybody who has endured reading my rambling attempts to recount my incredible experiences these past four months. 

Merry Christmas everybody!

Pilgrims and Indians

The week of Thanksgiving, our poor kids were introduced to the all American holiday of Thanksgiving by being ambushed with a confusing assortment of turkey, pilgrim, and Indian related activities. Apart from the classic hand turkey, they were introduced to this glorious manifestation of American culture with toilet paper roll Mayflowers, pilgrim and Indian three-legged races, and adorable Pilgrim hats.

Our Thanksgiving celebration consisted of ordering a veritable feast of Chinese food from our local restaurant. We were able to gain a sense of privacy and avoid omnipresent clouds of cigarette smoke by eating in the back room, where we had a lovely session of giving gratitude before stuffing ourselves.

We have visited this local restaurant at least every other week since arriving here. At first, I felt terrible for the lady who runs the place for having to deal with orders comprised of gestures and broken Mandarin. But I think she actually started to get a little fond of us. After the first few dumpling runs, she pointed us to the dishes of food that she knew we liked, so that we didn't have to search the entire menu. We had never had any actual conversation with her, but I felt a little sad at leaving our dependable friend as Thanksgiving constituted our final supper at our little restaurant. She's a wonderful lady.

In order to include some semblance of a traditional Thanksgiving meal, I baked a pumpkin pie in spite of all the difficulties baking a pie in a Chinese toaster oven using somewhat unorthodox ingredients posed. It wasn't Aunt Susie's pumpkin pie, but I will say it was pretty dang good.

We ended our evening by kicking off the Christmas season with The Holiday, pumpkin pie, and Christmas chain assemblage. It was a Thanksgiving to be remembered.

The Kindness of a Stranger

For the past couple months, we have been doing home visits for each of our kids. Three or four of us will go to about three different kids' houses and sit there listening to the parents speak with the Chinese teachers about their kid while we were plied with strange food by our hosts, waiting for our turn to tell the parent about our experience with their child in school in the most honest, yet positive way possible.

About a month and a half ago, a few teachers returned from one such evening of home visits raving about one of the moms they met. She attended college in California, so her english is wonderful. She was so excited to practice her english with us that she invited us to go to Guangzhou or Hong Kong with her some weekend-she has apartments in both cities in addition to her Xiaolan home.

Although our Visa won't allow us to go to Hong Kong, yesterday some of us were finally able to take her up on her offer of driving us to Guangzhou for a day of shopping, fun, and touring the city. She stayed with us all day, showing us the best sites, and insisted on taking us to lunch and dinner. I was finally able to try Southern China's famous "hot pot" dish, which was surprisingly delicious. Right before the drive back home, she showed us a corner market that sold American goods, and smiled tolerantly as we terrorized the store with squeals of delight. Four months without a Pop Tart does strange things to a girl's sensibilities.

Even besides her overwhelming generosity, this mom was so sweet and normal and just a delight to talk to. It was such a wonderful day, all due to the persistent kindness of one parent. She told us that she knew how we felt, having lived away from home for four years, which prompted her outreach to us.

During our mini church meeting today with girls from two other schools, we discussed how remarkable it was to experience so much helpfulness and kindness from complete strangers. Even while wandering the street looking lost, trying to find a certain place, english speaking Chinese people will approach us with offers to help. Logistically speaking, we should have gotten into some major trouble by now, for how clueless we are about our surroundings. But we always seem to find where we're going or get what we need.

Today it was pointed out that this seemingly magical circumstance is due to the persistent prayers and heaven sent love of our parents back home. I just realized today how much parental prayer and importuning is working to guide us clueless girls barely on the cusp of adulthood here in this foreign land.

I am immensely grateful to have parents who have such faith in me and in God to send me here. I am grateful for their prayers and for the prayers of all the other families of my peers to keep us safe and happy on this magnificent adventure. They're working.

Avatar Mountains

For our last vacation of 4 days, I and seven other girls in my group went to Zhangjiajie, which is a crazy cool mountainous region that the topography in the movie Avatar (blue people, not element benders) is based off of. It was one of the most beautiful places I've ever been, it's gorgeous scenery was a nice contrast to Beijing and Shanghai. 

This trip, we decided to be extra frugal and stay at the cheapest hostel in the area. For $8 per night, we got a freezing room-apparently room heaters are considered dangerous in China- and some sketchy wall stains. Although we spent the whole weekend bundled in four to five layers, it was probably a good preparation to coming back to below zero winters most of us will have in Utah and Idaho.

After getting very little sleep on another overnight slow train filled with cigarette smoke, we spent our first day in a park close to our hostel that boasts the world's tallest outdoor, glass elevator.  We zoomed to the top of this mountain and walked around the area, blown away by the scenery.

Mirror on the top of the elevator

Beat that, Willy Wonka

Chinese hamburger!!! It was foul.

This little, old, toothless lady kept us well fed
with cheap bao zi all weekend. 

I'm happy to report that my Mandarin has improved greatly, to the point that I can hold a semblance of a conversation with a Chinese person-given enough time, patience, and enunciation. On one of the thousands of bus trips we took this weekend, I approached a group of older Chinese tourists in an attempt to get directions. They were tickled pink that I was even trying to speak with them, and would not let me out of their clutches. I was only allowed to go sit back down with my friends after finally learning the word for tour guide, and responding that no, we did not have one.

Sittin' in a tree with this great girlie next to me. 

Tsu'tey is not amused. 

The whole gang-with a rainbow of sneakers

 Our second day of vacation, we went into a different part of the huge park. Our adventuring brought us to a lovely river walk, and some ground views of the mountains. Chinese give nature sights the best corniest names. I'm not sure if they're the result of a botched Chinglish translation or an effort to enhance the magnificence of the site.

This weekend I realized that my many years of terrifying car rides with a sibling at the wheel was really just practice for the trust necessary to endure a bus ride up a series of vertiginous mountains at breakneck speed through a series of crazy winding curves. Driving up the mountain was seriously worse than the Night Bus-and way more magical. 

On Monday morning we checked out of the sketchy hostel at the crack of dawn to climb the Stairway to Heaven and experience the other wonders a different park had to offer. After arriving there, we climbed into "longest passenger cableway of high mountains in the world", which offered a splendid view of the surrounding farming villages. We then experienced the aforementioned bus ride of terror and finally reached the top. 

Some centuries ago, the native people of this province discovered this natural arch in the rock, and decided to build a temple at the end of 999 steps climbing to the arch- 9 being a lucky number.

To be quite honest-I don't remember what the locks and ribbons symbolize. 

Stariway to Heaven
I counted every one of those steps and reached 967-sorry, Mom, not in Chinese. I'm hoping I was one who counted wrong.

After the climb, we took a literally 15 minute series of 8 escalators to the very top of Tianmen mountain. The best part about this was that we had no previous knowledge of it, so it seemed like just this never ending escalator ride to an unknown place. When we finally emerged into daylight at the top, it was like we were on this island in the sky-us and 300 other Chinese 60 year olds. 

We then hiked around the mountain on this narrow ledge literally on the side of the cliff supported by who knows what. It was amazing. And terrifying. And magical.

This is our best attempt at portraying how high and steep the cliff was. 

Chinese architecture is amazing. 

What we had known about previously was the glass walkway around the cliff through which one can see the ground thousands of feet below. It was amazing. And terrifying. And magical.

The red foot covers kept the glass from getting too
grimy and gave us awesome smurf feet.

Concluding our sojourn among the clouds, we rushed back to catch our 15 slow train back home. Thankfully that was the last overnight hell of a train ride, and it was made a smidgen more enjoyable by adorable babies dressed like old men.

Wonders of the World

During our time in Beijing, we climbed atop the longest cemetery in the world, otherwise known as the Great Wall of China. That last tidbit of information our tour guide was kind enough to inform us of on the bus ride there. My apologies to the one million Chinese peasants for disrespecting their informal gravesite. 

Sorry, not sorry. It was pretty cool.

 Honestly, I was kind of expecting the Great Wall's majesty to be inflated by it's hype and mass tourism. Most of the rest of the sites we visited were slightly disappointing; however, I was pleasantly taken off guard by the simple grandeur of the Wall.

Photo cred to Jessica Parker, who lugged around her big, fancy camera all vacation. 

Our hike on the great wall began after we took a cable car to a popular starting point. The stretch of the wall that we climbed boasted the highest point of the entire Great Wall. I think I was able to actually appreciate the wall more as it was necessary to quite literally climb at some points. Due to the welcome cold weather in Beijing, we had brought coats; 10 minutes into the hike, coats were shed and people were panting. 

Like any good thing, the Great Wall is in a constant state of repair.

Scattered throughout the wall were these old ladies selling ridiculously overpriced beverages and offering contrived Kodak moments such as the example shown above. $10 water bottle anyone? What amazed me was that they made the climb to their designated area twice each day. Gotta admire the entrepreneurial spirit of elderly Chinese women. 

 On the same tour as us was quite an assortment of foreign nationalities. While climbing the especially arduous parts of the Wall, I passed the time by learning to count to ten in both Thai and Hebrew from a couple of friendly Israelis we met.

It was fun to meet and talk to this group of students at a Hong Kong International University. They were mostly from  western European countries. 

 We spent about an hour climbing to the highest point of the Wall, admiring the incredible view (hampered by some fog), trying to wrap our minds around the enormity of it all, and taking advantage of some perfect picture spots.

Global wonders call for jazz hands. 

In Xi'an we went to visit what the Chinese like to refer to as the Eight Wonder of the World.

In 1974, a poor farmer discovered one of the world's largest tombs built for a single person- the Terracotta Army constructed to protect the first Emperor of unified China, Qin Shi Huang. 10 years later, Judy Batschi was among the earliest Americans to discover said tomb. 40 years later, I marveled at the narcissism and paranoia it would take to order over 8,000 workers to craft a warrior in their own likeness, bury those warriors in your own tomb to protect you in the afterlife, and then kill said workers in an effort to keep secret the location of your tomb. Some secrets can be too well kept.

This was the first Terracotta warrior that was found in the tomb pits. 

So far, three pits full of warriors, horses, and chariots have been discovered. Unfortunately, the roof of the first pit caved in, leaving a graveyard of broken clay men. I found this first pit to be more eerie than the rest; it was like looking at corpses covered in dust, the carvings are that realistic. 

This site is supposedly the oldest brick wall ever
found in China. 

Frankly, one of the best parts of the tour was our straight-to-the-point tour guide, Lady Jaja. She had the most hilarious way of rounding up her brood of non-Chinese tourists and giving her information in the most direct and unembellished way possible. What more can you ask for?

Temples and Camels and Mosques, Oh My!

Staying in Beijing and Xian has given us the wonderful opportunity to visit some beautiful ancient places of worship. 

During our last day in Beijing, we visited the Lama Temple, a beautiful Buddhist Lamasery built during the Qing dynasty. Side note: It was remarkable how many times I sang the A.P. World History Chinese dynasty song in order to have some inkling on the relative ancientness of a certain ancient site.

Although the Temple is still in use as a monastery and place of worship, tourism had an overwhelming presence and manifested itself in the crowds of people and cameras wherever one turned. Each visitor was given a complimentary bundle of incense sticks to burn at various locations. Although we were told only to burn three sticks, there were quite a few people going ham with their incense. The resultant wall of rosemary scented smoke was a little distracting-and smothering-and it was quite a different experience from any other religious buildings I’ve been in.

While we were walking through the maze of buildings, we did see a few monks wandering about. I’m not sure where they lived on the premises or where all the other monks had gone off to. In one of the buildings, I was rounding a corner and heard the sound of a monk humming/chanting. I eventually located the source- a classic pot bellied, bald headed, maroon robed monk sitting on a stool. After a moment, his chanting was punctuated by a profound yawn, followed by continued humming. It’s always nice to see the more familiar aspects of humanity even in our holiest of men.

It was definitely frustrating not to understand what all the symbols and statues represented. I’m not sure if Buddhism is extremely complicated and contains tons of different religious figures that I’m totally ignorant about, or if Buddhism is way more abstract and less ritualized than I’m imagining. Either way, it was fascinating to be exposed to a totally new and foreign religion.






After arriving in Xi’an the following day, I continued with this theme of new and foreign religions by exploring the Great Mosque in the city’s Muslim Quarters. The Great Mosque is one of the largest and oldest Islamic places of worship in China. It’s especially notable in its blending of traditional Chinese architecture and Arabic lettering and decorations. I was initially not going to pay the 25 Yuan for admission, but boy am I glad I did!

Shortly after entering the mosque’s gorgeous and peaceful grounds, a group of Malaysian Muslims with remarkably good English approached us and, during our conversation, informed us that that very day was Eid Al-Adha, one of the two major Islamic holidays. It is also called the Festival of Sacrifice and celebrates Abraham’s willingness to obey God…..by sacrificing sheep!!!!



That’s right, in that beautiful and ancient mosque, devout Muslim men were killing sheep and hanging them on hooks in rows in order to strip off the meat and give it to the poor. After hearing about this from our new friends, I was excited enough to witness my first animal sacrifice, but I was totally unprepared for the entire CAMEL lying deceased in the courtyard. Up to that day, I had not seen a camel, or an animal sacrifice, or the slaughtering and disembowelment of any animal. Basically, we hit the jackpot. While I was watching- partly in disgust, but mostly in absorbed fascination, more friendly English speaking Muslims shared more about this holiday, their beliefs, and the significance of animal sacrifices.

Later on in our visit, we were able to witness one of the five daily calls to prayer. I loved watching all the Muslim men in the mosque gradually make their way to the prayer hall (for lack of a better or more correct term) and prepare themselves to worship. It was different than what I had always imagined the frequent calls to prayer to be, and it was a wonderful sight to see.

All the people we met there were so kind and devout and accepting. The place was beautiful and the people were beautiful. I wish we could have stayed longer in the Mosque, but street vendors and our rumbling stomachs called.

This is purportedly one the four original sundials left in China. I'm going to need to brush up on my sundial reading capabilities.

Aren't round doorways the best?

Besides little old men with canes and kufis of course.

Sacrficial pictures below; viewer discretion advised