I'm the tallest on the court.

Post from October 21

Dongda holds an annual basketball tournament in the Fall for the faculty and staff. Being staff and tall, it is assumed that we participate. There was an impressive amount of hype about this tournament, enough to intimidate me, and make me worry about letting the entire department down. ...bagh...

The teams are first divided by departments and then by gender. The tournament spans 3-4 weeks, depending on how well we do. No pressure, but the English department had a nine year winning streak that was broken last year. They don't want to win that badly.

We have a coach. Kind of. Heidi understands about 20 percent of what he says, and I understand almost nothing. When verbal language ends, body language begins. With violent hand motions, trial and error, and help from the Chinese English teachers, we deduced that we are to stand under the basket, wait for the ball, and just shoot, per our coach's instructions. Flattering, since my entire life I have been a point guard, if that. Coming from Dutch, tall West Michigan, my peers were always the desired posts while I waited for a chance to pass the ball to them. (oh please pick me!!)

I am also the one picked for the jump ball. As it ensues, I jump much higher than my 'almost as tall as me' counter part as I tip the ball towards our basket. I am not tooting my own horn, here. It is a simple fact that sports and athletics exist almost 100% more in the U.S. educational system than in China's. That makes me a basketball expert. And also, due to the fact that I run regularly and my hips come up to most of the other women's rib cages, I am one of the fastest ones on the court as well. These are sociologically and physiologically sound, as well as a depressing contrast when I know my basketball ability compared to some of my friends' basketball abilities back home. oiy.

These games have GOT to get on tape. It's amazing.

Passes are chucked backwards over one's head, towards one's basket, without any regard to an open team mate. Dribbling is up by the chin, or too low so that the one in possession has to chase after it. Guarding could be retitled as 'mauling,' and shooting... well... IF it happens, it might hit the rim.

I HAD SO MUCH FUN.

But I do have a few suggestions to those who manage and determine what motions the referees use to signal a violation in basketball.

Number 1. No scratching. This is proven by the red lines on the neck or arm. Referee makes a motion like a cat snarl or a swipe like Wolverine, and gives the ball to the victim's team.

Number 2. Four eyes down. This call is made when someone's glasses get hit off of their head. I caught pairs of glasses three time in the first game. I guess securing one's means to a visually fulfilling life is not emphasized unless one plays more than once a year. Maybe. Referee extends hands and closes eyes, with a lost and confused expression on his/her face, as if he/she were blind. The ball is given to the other team.

Number 3. No climbing. This offense merits vigilance on the referee's part, especially when taller, sturdier foreigners are given the ball. I am not a tree. I am not a tree house. My calves are not footholds, and you may not swing on my neck. Referee raises his/her arms in the air resembling a tree blowing in the wind. The climbee is granted a free throw.

We are in the midst of the tournament. Our first game was 10-4, us, and our second game was (get this) 6-2, us. (AWWWWW YEAH.)

It's so fun. I can't wait for the next game this Saturday, and I'll keep the blog posted on the results and antics of the Dongda, Female, English Department Basketball Team. (DFEDBBT)

RAT

Post from October 9

www.photoblog.com/somewhereinchina

You need to read this rat story. This blog above belongs to my friend and fellow teacher at Dongda, Brett. He and I had an encounter with a small rodent. I was there for only 15% of the story, albeit the most dramatic 15%.

Scroll down and you'll find the story with a title.

Enjoy!

Shenyang

Post from October 7

Populations of largest cities by the administrative area populations:

Shanghai- 18.9 million

Beijing-17.5 million

Guangzhou- 15 million

Shenzhen- 13.3 million

Tianjin- 11.9 million

Chongqing- 32.4 million <-- (!!!!)

Now, to pale in comparison, the six largest cities of the United States by populations:

New York City- 8.4 million

L.A. - 3.8 million

Chicago- 2.8 million

Houston- 2.3 million

Phoenix- 2.6 million

Philadelphia- 1.5 million

can i get a whooooaaaaaa.....

we are itsy bitsy.

Now my original intent of putting the city populations up on my blog was to preface my update with these comparisons to show that I visited a HUGE city for National Holiday. And since Shenyang, the city I visited, has a population of 5 million, I thought without a doubt that it would make it on the ‘top 5 list’ for population size- not at all. and even with a ‘grace’ sixth spot, giving that city one more chance to claim some fame in my momentous post, it didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell when considering the other cities on the list.

However, it is still larger than every other city in the U.S. except NYC, so... my mind is still blown.

The reason for the travel is that we have had a couple national holidays. China just celebrated Mid-Autumn Day Festival the week prior to National Holiday week. These holidays are not always back to back, as Mid-Autumn Day follows the lunar calendar. But this year it fell right before National Day, or October one, so for the Americans, it felt like Christmas and New Years in a temperate climate. kindof. but not really at all, because, well, it's China. (shrug)

I graciously received this vacation, welcoming it with open arms and a violent night of food poisoning.

Fuuuuuun.

First I had a somewhat dormant cold for about two weeks that finally decided to show its full rage on the last day of classes. After sleeping that off and almost beating it fully, I ate some bad lettuce, and BAM got slammed with Mao's revenge on a thin layer of Chinese virus. (Can I say that?) The formidable lettuce was just a small part of a Mexican meal we made for American food night. (Yeah, I know. Just keep reading.) It was good to be with other teachers, and the food was amazing, complete with our [i]American[/i] dessert: Apple crisp.

All who ate left full and content.

But my full got fuller, my contentedness got confused, and then my fuller got painful, the painful became writhing, and the confused figured out what was happening. ...you know the movie, Alien? I felt like something was going to split open my stomach and crawl out. It truly felt like there was something in there, I didn't know what, but it had a life of its own.

My Alien struck three times... little bastard. 2:30am, 4:45am, and 8:30am. But the chaos was over almost as quickly as it began, and it didn't kill me like the actual Alien, [i]fortunately.[/i]

In fact, I was still able to travel to Shenyang less than 8 hours after the ...events... took place. But compared to the internal and sometimes external violence I experienced the night before, a short train ride to Shenyang was no. big. deal. These trains are palatial when stacked against economy class in an airplane; the ride is smooth, you have a big seat that reclines to a decent degree, and an impressive amount of leg room. Thank you, China. You're forgiven.

Upon arrival, Heidi and I were met by a senior student at Dongda. Her family was so hospitable- they picked us up, treated us to Peking duck, (I just stared longingly at the glistening slices of duck and savory plum sauce as my stomach digested plain sesame crackers and Coca Cola) and gave us their queen sized bed to sleep on for those four nights. Heidi and I were so grateful- it was better than our own living arrangements! Our student friend took us around the city, showing us Shenyang's Imperial Palace, a Korean music and dance performance- this was the most aesthetically pleasing performance that I have ever seen in my life, and probably ever will see- and last but not least, the shopping.

Now 5 million people in one city requires a large amount of franchises and shopping centers. Apparently.

AWESOME!!!

Honestly, I'm not a big shopper in the states- I'm in, I'm out, and I'm done. But since being in China, European and American clothing stores, American restaurant chains, and even American made cars, are beacons of light that give me a shameless amount of comfort and warmth. Advertisements that made me eyes roll, I now admire nostalgically. Restaurants that I avoided like the plague at home, I now visit with a sense of deep longing fulfilled. oiy... I wonder how I'll react to the U.S. when I return. I might go crazy and indulge in every little thing I see and smell...hmmm... noted for future reference: temper cravings... America probably isn't going anywhere in the near future, and neither are Starbucks and Dairy Queen...

Reconciling my own internal ethical turmoil caused by the West pouring into Chinese culture will have to go on hold for now... long live the blizzard.

Chinese hospitality blows every other type of hospitality out of the water. They dote and spoil and take care of you better than your own grandmother would. I am constantly impressed with how my students treat me, and am trying to tailor my own sense of hospitality to theirs. Chinese hospitality could be taken right out of a book that I admire with my whole heart. Amazing.

This post has gotten lengthy, so I'll wrap it up. Our hostess and her family were amazing. Our Holiday was well spent in Shenyang resting, visiting, and getting to know our student friend even better. I am no longer sick, and my cravings for a frappuccino have temporarily subsided.

Life is good. :)

Spider

Post from September 25

I'm not normally afraid of spiders. Yeah, they have eight legs and move creepily around and movies have been made about arachnophobia, yadda yadda. But the spiders I have encountered and maimed/killed in Michigan have been, at most, a little squishy when squashed. After the deed is done, I shudder, make a gross noise, and move on with my life.

I was walking up my aforementioned apartment stairs the first week of being here, and paused quickly to catch a glimpse of Dongda's soccer field, only to have that smooth, green expanse be interrupted by three heee-uuuge silhouettes of spiders. I bet you each leg on these beasts were at LEAST an inch long-maybe more. And, when thinking about arachnid body ratios, the bodies were probably large enough to dissect without microscopes. I don't even think I can call those spiders. They are... rodents. yes, small rodents.

So once I got over my shock, I logged that moment away, so as not to forget that that size creature exists on our campus. Alright (head nod). Life goes on.

So we three teachers at Dongda run a weekly event called English Corner. It is a sort of club meant for any students that are interested in practicing their English with the American teachers. We have different activities, themes, games, and topics for discussion each week. English Corner is really great, for it allows us to be more relaxed and candid with our students- not just the English students, but other grades and majors as well. We hold English Corner on the fourth floor in the foreign teacher's office after dinner, so it is dark by the time our activities are over.

One night after English Corner it was raining pretty heavily, so we were jumping puddles on the dimly lit sidewalk, ignoring wet socks in our wet shoes as we were heading back to our apartments. I heard my phone ring as I was approaching a lake in the sidewalk, and proceeded to answer it while concurrently looking for another path that wouldn't give me clammy feet. The phone call was one of my students asking about some homework, and as I was answering her question I saw my opportunity for a higher path, right between two trees.

I take an energetic step up onto the curb, unabashedly taking another step in between the two trees, while still talking to my student. But within that second step, I felt this delicate but strong, bungee-like substance stretch as my face melded into the strands, as they folded around my head, almost to my ears- while never snapping or breaking. That spiderweb was so taught and strong that I felt as though it could have propelled me backwards if I had let my feet leave the ground.

I squealed. I squealed right through the phone into my student's ear, but for the moment I had forgotten that I was even on the phone, because the BEYOND urgent concern was that the spider logged away in my memory was somewhere on my person- or worse, on my face. oh sick sick sick... I don't think I've ever shaken my body like a long-haired golden retriever stepping out of the water before, but that's what I did. After a good ten seconds of that, I regained a little bit of composure.

I apologized to my student for potentially making her eardrums bleed, hung up, and then slowly snuck up to the pair of trees to find out where the enemy was. THERE IT WAS. Little stinker was just chillin right about where my forehead threatened it's death trap. I stared it down, but it seemed pretty unfazed by the panic and emotional chaos.

Recovery for that incident was a lot more than a shudder and a gross noise. It involved a happy movie and lots of ice cream consumption followed by a thorough inspection of every corner in my apartment.

People walk much quieter over here.

This blog was posted on September 16 as well.

My apartment complex is conveniently located right next to campus- so close that it takes me 7 minutes to walk to my classroom in the English building. So close, infact, that when the freshmen are doing their military drills eeeevery moooorning on the neighboring feild, yelling '1,2,3,4!!!' in Chinese, with barely a rhythm to the phrase, but enough of a beat for it to irritate my neurotic anticipation for a tick/tock of a clock while i'm sleeping, I can hear it.

Sigh... but the minute I turn the corner out of my street, and see all of the bright eyed freshmen in their military garb, and seeing them see me, stare, and maybe attempt a shy smile, my irritation dissipates. They are all so excited and eager to be at university, to learn the school song and to belong to something that widely upheld by society. Fascinating.

But for the sake of my blog title, I must clarify that the loud counting is during marching, not walking. Those are two, VERY DIFFERENT, gaits.

My apartment building is also made entirely of cement. When singing, I appreciate the reverb possibilities. I haven't asked my neighbor's how they feel, due to the still large rift in verbal communication, and I don't really want to know what they think.

When walking in heels, the click clack makes me feel quite professional, as well as brings me back to my elementary school years where Mrs. Ofpoff would stroll around the hallways in her pumps. Although, I don't really want to imagine myself as her, really, ... so this reference, I think, only pertains to the sound it makes, not the person I feel that I am- to clarify.

When raining, the air feels damp and full of musty moisture, a sensation and smell that gives me the urge to walk around barefoot wearing my bathing suit all day at a cottage on a lake.

When walking at night, however, it is dark. No really. I think, I think it's more than dark- it's negative dark. Like, if dark were neutral, or zero, then our stair well is a negative 6 or something. I truly think that light isn't just absent, every trace fragment is sucked out of the air, as if there were millions of tiny black holes all over the walls. It proabably takes an hour of daylight before the depressed air can regain neutrality and one can see their hand in front of their face again.

So imagine that level of darkness as you are making your way down some uneven stairs with your hands full- full of the leftovers from the food you just ate at the fun dinner you just had with your team mates that you are loving and loving to get to know. Now imagine trying to focus your pupils on something in that thick, despairing darkness- ANYTHING- to gain your orientation back, while concentrating on counting the stairs you can't see, and being unable to remember if there were six or seven stairs on this stretch. (You memorized them yesterday.)

You hear Heidi's breathing behind you, but that's it. You are carefully, tentatively, turning the corner.

Out of the corner of your eye emerges this round, pale, image, resembling a face, but with straight edges around it, like a distorted tiki-torch.

You inhale a sharp breath as you feel your heart stop and your eyes grow wide. In a flash, your imagination dumps EVERY single horror movie memory out in front of you from a secret bag it had stored in the recesses of your brain, and then sneers at you! Heidi behind you has no IDEA what happened, so she imitates your reaction with gumption and fervor, creating a panicky scene, almost complete with leftovers on the walls and floors and two Anglo-Saxon female bodies laying next to each other, in complete shock. (That last part doesn't happen though, starting at the food everywhere.)

As you both try to make sense of this image, frozen in fear, realizing your escape options don't exist, and trying to recall every defense move you learned in PE class, but you only come up with "I don't have my rape whistle on me!"... the image evolves to a head, with a neck, long hair, wrinkles on the forehead, all black clothes on, resignation in the face, and an unimpressed eyebrow raise directed at you and Heidi.

Seventy-year-old Chinese women should wear bells on their shoes.

First Point of Contact

Blog post from September 16.

This is an email that I sent August 30. It is hard to believe that it is now Sept 16... my WORD time moves fast, and my language skills aren't keeping up with it... bagh.

another update to come. But stories first!

~linds

This is pretty poorly organized, but I'm brainstorming right now, so I'm writing out of the right-side of my brain.

Life is plugging along. Classes start tomorrow, and I'm just finishing up brainstorming my complete syllabus for my classes. I will be teaching six classes, three of sophomores and three of freshmen. The Sophomore class is titled, "Critical Analysis Through Film." It was originally an audio-visual film class, but I'm tweaking it with the huge amounts of creative freedom and hands-off authority we're all experiencing. The school loves us and respects us, but we are also jewels on their crown, to a large degree. They care about the classes we teach, but value our nationality and language skills more... if that makes sense. We have so much opportunity to hang out with the students, build relationships, help their english (esp the Seniors studying for their NUMEROUS national exams...) and also enlist eager students (of which there are MANY) to tutor us in Chinese. I love QHD (Qinhuangdao, pronounced 'sheen-hoo-ung-dao). I love any new place that I need to figure out, so I'm having a blast. The students are great, too. I'm already falling in love with the personalities and vivacity I see in them. So fun. The language... bagh... I'm just starting to distinguish different words in conversations, instead of having it all seem to be a garble of soft, gentle syllables that seem to be more of a proverbial pillow for my cochlea than a language i could one day speak. Heidi just gave me some Chinese tutorials in paper and video, so I'm on my way to intelligible one to two word phrases. However, thank you, hello, good bye, I'm sorry, and the numbers can get you pretty dang far...

I am at my school, called Dongbe Dashwu (??), or Dongda for short, or Northeast University of QHD. Options.

Today (Sunday) was very good. Just plain good. I can't get over how much joy hanging out with our whole group gives me. The music is excellent, the discussions are respectful (so far) and it simply fills me up. OH and guess what. Ok, I'll tell you. My friend, jared, who is with ELIC, is Kara and Peter's wall-mate at one of our other schools. How uncanny. Seeing him was great; I heard him before I saw him- it is now a very strange thing to hear american english outside of our little group, so hearing him in the hallway perked my ears RIGHT away. :) Always good to see another Knight.

I am somewhat settled in. The floor is painted black (I'm no emo kid, so this isn't a good thing) and the person before me was quite the... mmm... slob? ...to put it nicely. So, it's been a lot of work cleaning it up and finding more furniture, but now I'm on to decorating!! Brett and I met downtown (solo taxi ride, thank you very much) and we found some paintings, a mirror, and other 'homey' stuff. I'm now taking a break from brainstorming for my class and checking my email very hesitantly, and am pretty anxious to hang those paintings on the wall during my next break.

Anyway, that's what is on my mind in this particular moment. ...mmm... i love QHD. I love any new place that I need to figure out, so I'm having a blast. The students are great, too. I'm already falling in love with the personalities and vivacity I see in them. So fun. The language, you ask? bagh... I'm just starting to distinguish different words in conversations, instead of having it all seem to be a garble of soft, gentle syllables that seem to be more of a proverbial pillow for my cochlea than a language i could one day speak. Heidi just gave me some Chinese tutorials in paper and video, so I'm on my way to intelligible.

Now that I've mentioned them both, I suppose I should 'introduce' them to you. Heidi and Brett are my fellow teachers at Dongda. Heidi is from Seattle, and is returning this year for her second year to the same school. She is so helpful and patient with my sloooooow Chinese learning curve. (there is just NO reference point with any language I am even remotely familliar with!) The closest thing I can think of is my music training and my pretty decent ear... but even then... yikes.

Brett is originally from Maine, and has been living in QHD for the last year and a half. His Chinese is about intermediate, which is impressive every time he picks up the phone or talks to a cab driver, and it also gives me hope that I can one day be at least that good... but whoa....

We three are getting along pretty well. We generally really like each other, but our strong attachment to each other is compounded by the fact that we are the ONLY Americans/white people on the campus, and three of fewer than 100 westerners in this decently large city... this is no Beijing, that's for sure.

Yikes, I'm tired. Jet lag is still a struggle. I'm not waking up at 3am anymore, which is good. 5am makes me feel less nocturnal, but I would prefer to have the circadian clock catch up asap. There is no charm in waking up at 5am. sorry, dad... :)

ok, back to preparing for class.

i am consolidating

My most recent online purchase (there aren't many) is a VPN, or a 'virtual private network.' This ...thing... (cue obvious technological ignorance HERE) allows me to jump the firewalls in China to access facebook, blogspot, youtube, or anything else that could potentially disrupt the harmony in China. (They don't know about me, yet.)

SO. I now have the ability to use my former, and preferred, blog from blogspot. My former blog posts on photoblog will be transplanted to 'my verbal doodles' and I will put a link in the photoblog blog for any wayward, confused blog users.

This is a simple update symbolizing a momentous occasion in lindsay's communication saga.

Are you as excited about it as I am? Because you should be.

That's all for now, but more to come soon :)