$12 Massage

One thing almost any one who's been to China can tell you: Massages are dirt cheap.* My roommate, Emily, and I frequented a local place in Wuhu (3 times total).

The first time, our coworker and friend, Linda, brought us, plus our friends Helene and Henry, to her favorite massage place. This would end up being a terrifying experience for Henry. I would like to share that experience with you now.**

We arrived in fashion (and by fashion, I mean an every day taxi), driving up to a very sketchy looking building. Luckily, Linda was standing right inside the door so she caught us before we could stand outside too long wondering if this was the right place.

We were ushered in and provided sanitized flip flops and food (noodles), and then we were separated into our gender-specified changing rooms to change into the very flattering pink pajamas you see up there in the picture.

We opted out of the shower. (We would have had to shower in front of each other, which was a bit much.) So we head to the sauna and wait for Henry to join us. And we waited. And we waited. Until finally he stumbled through the door, disheveled and looking way more stressed than when we entered. (Given that this was a place designed to do the exact opposite, we had cause for concern.)

Unlike us, who had the benefit of a translator, Henry had been alone in the male dressing room. He didn't know what the protocol was, only what the man in the changing room was able to mime to him.

So he took off his shirt. The man shook his head and gestured down. Henry took of his shorts. Man shook his head, gestured down. Soon Henry was standing alone in a room with a Chinese man and only one of them had any clothes on. Awkward levels rising.

Then he gets escorted to this jacuzzi/bath thing. Luckily no one else was in there, but Henry sat in the tub until the man told him (or rather, gestured to him) to get out of the tub and was promptly handed a washcloth to dry himself.

And, with credit to the institution, the man in the locker room was willing to go beyond the call of duty and started helping Henry dry himself by patting down his back... all the way down to his bum.

Now some of you might be going, why didn't Henry do anything? Well, there's this thing that happens when you're in another country where you don't know what's going to offend people, what's appropriate/inappropriate, and (arguably the most important factor) unable to eloquently express yourself in their language.

Henry ended up using five of these "towels".

So, not unfairly, he was pretty shaken up by the time he got to the sauna.

The massage was... painful. We requested women masseurs. We would later request men and be perfectly satisfied.***

One of the girls was completely in love with Henry, but lost interest once she learned she was older than him.

All in all, it makes for a good story.

*If you know where to go. I recommend having a Chinese friend/local recommend a place, especially in Beijing or Shanghai, where people can recognize foreigners and promptly rip them off. OR you might be signing up for more than a massage. (Just saying.)

**Don't worry, he's more or less given me permission to share this story. I'm not sure if he meant the entire internet, but that's what you get for not reading the fine print.

***Yes, I realize that could be taken in a completely different way.

(Thank you to Henry for a good blog story.)

China Is Over, But Not Done

First day of classes, freshmen swarming the campus, I'm caught up in Presidential duties to FSU's swing dance club, classes, annoying hoops that advisers make you jump through. And all I can think about it how much I want to go back to China.

I was told by my mom that apparently people outside of my three friends on Facebook. So I just want to take this moment and say "Hi" and "I'm not done yet."

There's still so much I want to tell you about, so much that I just didn't allow myself time and think of what words I wanted to say. So if you're not bored of my ramblings, I'll still post here. Plus, there's a reason why this website is called "thegirlroaming". I plan on keeping up this blog on future adventures (not to jinx anything, but hopefully next summer...).

So stick around, who knows, maybe I'll even upgrade to my own website. ;)

Climb Every Mountain! Or at least Yellow Mountain...

Yup, I climbed a mountain. And it was no small feat. In fact, it was around 5,900 ft.

A while back, my fellow teachers and I had white water rafted very close to this mountain, and ever since it has been a "must see" for us. Due to different schedules, however, we've been forced to visit in small groups. Mine was the second to Huangshan (黄山), so we got a lot feedback from the first group on what to expect, what to bring and what to see.

We were told to bring our own food and drink, because even though several stalls made both readily available, it was very expensive in comparison. Also, buy ponchos. Rest and drink water often, basically anything anyone who has ever hiked knew.

In terms of what to see, I was given a map with several attractions circled, but the NUMBER ONE thing we had to see was Ying Ke Song, or the Welcoming-Guest Pine. I'll get to that later

So our trip's beginning was less than stellar. Emily, Michael and I were supposed to leave around 7:40 p.m. by train on Sunday, but due to some unfortunate events, Michael ended up having to catch the next train... but still got to Huangshan City before Emily and I! (We were less than thrilled.) Emily and I, expecting to arrive at ~11:30, actually arrived at 1 a.m. and blearily stumbled to our hostel, luckily close to the train station.

After a very tired discussion, we agreed to skip the hostel's bus to the mountain (which left at 6 a.m.) and instead catch a later bus at the train station. That at least gave us two more hours.

We arrived exhausted and sore and maybe a little cranky with an entire mountain looming over us. Once we got our tickets (160元 with a student card) and got to the mountain with the help of a helpful and bilingual tour guide, we began our ascent.

It took ten minutes until the complaining started.

The amount of stairs was staggering. Even now as I remember them, it's a very different feeling, being at the bottom of the steps. The food went quickly and we lamented on not bringing more fruit.

Although, it was a lot of fun and we offered many of the Chinese visitors some entertainment. Emily, in a fit of frustration, sat down and exclaimed "I have no motivation to climb any more! I hate mountains!". At first everything was silent, and then the Chinese man sitting next to Emily started chuckling, followed by his wife. Michael just burst out laughing and soon everyone was in a fit of giggles. (Lesson: It is never safe to assume you are around non-English speaking natives.)

As we continued the treacherous climb, at one point I resorted to crawling up a particularly long flight of stairs, entertaining natives and tourists alike.

So after what seemed like hours and hours, we finally arrived to Ying Ke Song. The tree that we absolutely HAD to see. Was dead. And held together with cables to keep the picturesque scene you often see if you Google Huangshan. We were so non-pulsed by this tree, that we entertained everyone around who seemed genuinely excited to take pictures with this tree.

We had to take our pictures with this tree, and we had to look like we were having fun, and all of the natives thought our attitude towards the tree was hilarious. At one point, I felt the need to double check if this was the right tree, because I had been expecting something amazing, like an amazingly huge tree or this breathtakingly gorgeous tree. Not to say that it wasn't gorgeous, but the tree just couldn't hold up to our expectations.

So after that, we continued to the very, very top. It was a harrowing climb, and at times dizzying to look down. But we made it, and promptly awarded ourselves with snickers (an essential supply for a long hike), we also got medals with our names and the date engraved to commemorate our accomplishment. All in all, despite being a test of will and endurance, it felt amazing to stand on top of that mountain in the clouds. And for a moment everything was serene.

We found our hostel with relative ease, though once we arrived we were roughed up and exhausted and running pretty low on energy and enthusiasm. The hostel, despite not having keys, was extremely comfortable and we welcomed a nice warm shower.

The plan then was to wake up at an ungodly hour (4:30 a.m.) to see the sunrise, but as the alarms went off and everyone in the hostel peaked outside, we saw black rain. And instead of getting our ponchos and most likely being cold, wet, miserable and tired, we all just curled back up in our warm beds and waited for the sun.

The rain, though making us miss what probably would have been an amazing sunrise, gave way to a gorgeous day. Blue skies, light winds. And I wasn't even sore!

However, due to ill planning, our group made for home. The way back wasn't terrible, in fact, we had to take the cable car down on the east side, which made for a pleasant end.

The way back was a little stressful, as our train would wait a good thirty minutes to an hour at two of the stations we passed through. (Though one stop, we sat by this train with adorable girls who were thrilled to be across from Westerners.)

All in all, it was a fantastic experience and I would greatly recommend it should you ever be in the area. Though it is not a task to be taken lightly and one should prepare for it as best one can.

Dear Mr. Potter,

You and I have been through a lot. There are times when I fondly remember where we met, The Sorcerer's Stone was wrapped up neatly under my Christmas tree, a present that I could not fathom how much it would change my life.

I grew up with you, Harry. I met you when I was eight and graduated with you when I was seventeen. I was angry with you, I was lonely with you, I was happy with you. Some of the friends that I hold very close to my heart, you were our common bond.

I know it isn't over; that's the whole point of Deathly Hallows isn't it? Those who we have loved never leave us.

You have often been described as people's childhood, Mr. Potter. Well, I am happy to say you are more to me than my childhood, you are my friend.

Thank you, Harry. For everything.

Nicole

Swing Dancers are Universally Awesome

I'm not dead yet! Shanghai definitely left me exhausted, even gave me a little cold, but it takes more than that to keep a good traveler down.

I mentioned a few entries ago how I had this itch to lindy hop. My dancing feet needed a dance floor and so they took me all the way to Shanghai, where the Internet had led me to believe that there was some sort of swing scene. Of course, these can be pretty hard to find.

I took the sleeper train from Wuhu to Shanghai, arrived pretty bleary-eyed to my hostel. The day was spent kind of wandering around, no real plan. And soon enough, it was time for a quest.

The website had pretty good instructions, and being some what proficient in being able to point at an address I copied in Chinese and then follow wherever the finger pointed, I was able to find the general area of where the website said... but then I couldn't find the place immediately. And I was about thirty-forty minutes late (than the time the website said the dance started) and I found this bar that was completely deserted save for the staff.

And at first I didn't even want to ask.

A million questions were going through my head, "Was it an old site?" "Did the scene ever even exist?" "What if it was a ploy for this jazz bar?" "What if I missed them?" "What if this was an off week?"

I mean, I came all the way to Shanghai especially for swing dancing, otherwise I would have gone somewhere else, or even take a weekend off from traveling. (Save for the first weekend, I have been out of Wuhu for every single one.) And for a moment, I wanted to just get back on the metro, go back to the hostel and cry into my pillow.

But that is not what I came to Shanghai to do! So, I got up my courage for what seemed the umpteenth time (by this point I have traveled to Shanghai by myself, slept on a train by myself, navigated Shanghai by myself (and then with my new roommate/friend from the hostel), and sought out this location by myself), I asked the managers of the restaurant that I had found and then they directed me to the CORRECT restaurant. (Lesson Learned: Never give up when you think it's hopeless, you may just be looking in the wrong places.)

I heard the music before I saw the place, but I immediately quickened my steps. When I walked in, it was like seeing a friend I hadn't seen in ages. We were both hesitant, eyeing each other, seeing how much we changed. Do we hug? Do we kiss? Do we immediately pick up where we left off?

At first it was really intimidating, as it is when you walk into a new scene without knowing a soul. But one thing that I absolutely love about the Lindy community is that once you establish that you swing dance, you have friends.

And it was amazing to dance again.

The basic, the shim sham, the swivels! To unintentionally quote Celine Dion, it was all coming back to me. I wasn't as rusty as I feared, in fact after I warmed up, I was close to where I was when I left off. (Or so I like to think.)

Some old bad habits came out in full force, like my inability to wait. (But to be fair, I hadn't danced in over a month. How could anyone expect me to be patient?)

The scene was incredibly small. It was run by Orchid, an energetic woman who was extremely passionate about swing dancing. She had learn from a Western follow who had asked a lead to come to Shanghai for the sole purpose of starting a scene. They had left a while ago, but Orchid kept the scene alive through what she's learned by youtube and what few exchanges she's been able to attend. (One of them being Franky's 95th, which I am eternally jealous for.)

They had just that day learned the shim sham, so I got to dust off the ol' routine, helped lead and even got the honor of making the calls of "freeze", "dance", etc. during the general dance.

Everyone was just so welcoming and reminded me so much of fellow lindy hoppers in the states. We talked about lindy hop, So You Think You Can Dance, different exchanges that they've heard of (though aside from Orchid, none have danced outside of China). One girl even asked how I did my styling (though I was hesitant to teach anything because I didn't want to mess with their basic). But I did get to teach scissor kicks outside of the basic, so that was fun.

Over view: good people + good dancing = amazing night in Shanghai.

Suzhou, Zhouzhang & Hangzhou (or Where I Rediscover How Awesome Trains Are)

I think I'm just falling in love with China a little more each day. Honestly, before my adventure set out I was terrified that every horrifying thing I've heard about China would have me running back to America for familiar ground. And while there are some things that I dearly miss (certain foods, amenities, Western toilets, dancing) and am counting the days until I can take a nice, warm shower, I absolutely am falling in love with this country.

I wish I could just sit down and talk about everything about where I'm staying and what I'm doing, but once again I find myself positively ready to explode about my latest trip. So, before it gets messy, I think I'll do that.

The traveling itself made this trip special. I made the decision practically the day before and left it up to my travel mates (Jason and Armando, yes, that Armando) to book the tickets (as I spent most of Friday at a spa (story coming soon)). After agreeing on the two cities of Suzhou and Hangzhou and deciding to head to Suzhou first, we soon found out that there was only on train per day... at 12:14 a.m.

This did not excite me. I have never pulled an all nighter, but what I experienced was something very close to what I think an all nighter would be like. The train ride was five to six hours long and extremely uncomfortable. (I attempted to use Jason as a pillow, but he was too fidgety. Later he would tell me my elbows are like knives.)

So after one of the most uncomfortable nights of my life, we arrived in Suzhou, haggard-looking and silent. We stumbled into the hostel with nary a problem and aside from them accidentally confusing my passport for Jason's. (The salt on the wound is that he isn't even blond, so there really was no excuse for it.)

We took a much needed two hour nap and then struck out at 10 a.m.... or really 11 a.m. since it took us an hour to decide what we were going to do. We walked to the North Pagoda, which was relatively cheap (25 RMB). It had this amazing Buddah statue and offered some gorgeous views of the city.

After that we went to the Humble Administrator's garden (拙政园) which offered more beautiful Chinese landscape. But it was hot and humid. I was quick to take out my umbrella for shade. But it didn't stop me from getting soaked from the moisture.

We sought shelter in a museum. I can't tell you what museum. Just that it had amazing air conditioner.

Dazed, we wandered back to our hostel for a quick shower and nap and then we sought out sustenance. We ended up finding a Korean restaurant and I found some good bubble tea. The main walking street in Suzhou, Guan Qian Jie (观前街), was an impressive site. The neon and the crowds gave the street a vibrant sheen in the night, but the crowd was perfect for people watching.

The next day had us up early, breakfast at 7 a.m. and meeting the lobby at 8:10 to go on a tour to Zhouzhang (州长), the Venice of China. We hopped on a Chinese tour because it was honestly cheaper than going ourselves. (We were actually able to haggle down so we basically paid 20 RMB for the bus and 100 RMB for the entrance. The bus without the tour would have been 70+ RMB.)

Zhouzhang earns its nickname in spades. It was a Chinese Venice, complete with boats not unlike gondolas drifting through the canals. (We didn't get in one, but should you choose to enjoy a relaxing boat ride, you are given a small table for tea and if you get a woman to push you around, she'll more than likely serenade you.)

After lunch we were given a choice between two "towers". Of course, not really understanding, we just asked which was the most interesting, took their word for it and bought the tickets. This ended up being the best decision of the trip. They took us to this house that looked pretty shabby on the outside, but inside was the most amazing illusion/fun house I've ever been in.

The rooms were so impressive, as well as the paintings and the optical illusions. There was an upside down room, a sideways room, a room that made you really small and/or really big, a hall of mirrors, and the scariest haunted house I've ever been in.

We went into this room with these tables with headphones. We put on a pair each and then the room went pitch black. You could not see a centimeter in front your face and the audio through the headphones was so frightening. At first it was just something walking around, and you could feel someone walking around. And then it would whisper in your ear, and it really felt like someone was whispering. It was in Chinese, but some how that made it scarier. Haunted houses are usually pretty easy for me to laugh at... this one was really good.

That night we hopped on a bus to the near by Hangzhou (杭州) to meet Emily and Michael O. The hostel they booked our reservations at was probably one of the cutest things I've ever seen in my life. While a bit more expensive than our usual hostel by twenty yuan, it was a really charming place. Past visitors wrote on the walls in bright colors, English, Chinese, French, all over! And when we had breakfast, we got silverware! It was amazing.

The morning was spent at Yingling temple, which was honestly the most impressive temple I've been to in China. While a bit expensive (45 RMB to enter the mountain park and another 30 for the temple) the statues and the scenery were absolutely breathtaking.

After that and wandering around a bit, we ended up renting bikes and going over West Lake. A gorgeous, picturesque lake, but soooo humid!

Armando, Jason and I headed back to Wuhu that night on a train, experiencing one of the sleeper cars for the first time. It was a blast! And extremely comfortable. Only fifteen yuan more expensive, I really recommend this to get around, especially if you're traveling at night. (Though if you want to read, bring your own book light.)

My next trip is to Shanghai where I hope to find some lindy hoppers. Until then, I'll be roaming!

Nanjing Part II (or How I Became a TV Celebrity)

So, last minute, I decided to go to Nanjing again, this time with a larger group (and without Henry, though he was sorely missed). And it just deepened my love for the city.

Out of the three major cities I have visited, Nanjing is easily my favorite. (the other two being Shanghai and Hong Kong (though arguably that is not China, and I would agree with that)). Though it certainly does it's best to discourage me every time I visit.

This time, though I didn't lose my brand new camera (thank goodness), almost everything else seemed a challenge. Still, it will probably be one of the most memorable experiences of my life.

While the first trip to Nanjing was laid back, even restful, this one was a lot more hectic. I acted as a tour guide, since I kind of knew my way around. I ended up going to the Nanjing Massacre Museum again, though it offered a chance to take note on some things I miss and it's honestly the #1 site to see in Nanjing.

I really wanted to show them the top of the mountain, which had been gorgeous the first time around, but it was so foggy we could barely see the tops of the buildings. So, we looked for an antique market (which we didn't find) but I haggled for two gorgeous jade pieces, which I got down to 30% the asking price! I probably could have gotten down more, but I was so excited I just agreed. (All in all, ended up being less than $5 USD, so I call that a win.)

The shopkeepers absolutely loved haggling with us foreigners. Every time I exclaimed "tài guìle (very expensive)!" the woman seemed really excited and happy to haggle.

(Granted, not all the shopkeepers shared her enthusiasm. I tried haggling at a much more expensive place and the woman might as well have been stone.)

After a quick shower and rest, we went to the Fuzi temple, which was closed but the area surrounding it offered beautiful, colorful sites and shops.

The next day, I visited my favorite place in all of Nanjing and probably one of the most beautiful parks I have ever been to in my life.

So many people came up to my fellow teacher Emmanuel and me, it was like we were celebrities. Emmanuel got more than me and I had at least seven people approach me to take pictures.

And then the TV camera came. So there were like nine of us walking around the park and this guy and his camera man approached us asking for a boy and a girl to be boyfriend and girlfriend on camera. One of the guys immediately agreed whereas I kind of volunteered by just staying in the forefront of the group. (Not to say that I didn't want to do it, but I also didn't want to be like "MEMEMEMEME!")

We were given pieces of paper, were made to stand back to back and told to write down our favorite thing about the our significant other. Seeing as how we weren't actually a couple, this was a bit of a challenge. Finally, Hélène shouts to me what would be my dream boyfriend.

So we turn around, I showed him what I wrote ("He takes me dancing."). Now this is supposed to be a very touching moment where we (as a couple) are all lovey dovey, and guess what he says. "She's blond." Apparently that's my defining factor as person. Had he actually been my boyfriend, it would not have been a touching moment.

But then the TV guy told Armando that he had to say something else, that a lot of girls were blond, and he said that I was a nice person and that was pretty, etc. So yeah, got a good compliment or two out of it. ;)

All things considered, he wasn't my boyfriend and (as far as I know) I got to be on China TV. If I ever find the clip I will definitely post it here.

The rest of the day consisted of us trying to go to the Dr. Sun Yatsen Mausoleum (but due to an afternoon thunderstorm was closed), the adventure trying to get there in a taxi, drying off at the hostel before getting caught in the middle of flood trying to get to the bus station. The water was literally up past my knees. We tried to take one of the city buses but the traffic stopped because of the flood and we had to trek there.

We ended up missing our bus but were able to get tickets to the last bus to Wuhu (which ended up being a rest stop half way to another destination) that was supposed to leave at 7:30 p.m. but because of the flooding, the bus schedule was backed up for hours. Eventually we left around 8:30~9 and arrived safe and sound in Wuhu.

And that was Nanjing Part II.

Itchy Feet

There are two things that I irrevocably love. One, as you might have guessed, is travelling. (This blog is a direct result of that affair.) The other one is dance!

Specifically, swing dancing.

I started around January 2010, so not that long ago. And I am now getting ready to enter my third year of college as co-president of my school's swing dance club.

In my normal life I usually dance at LEAST once if not twice or three times a week. And now I have not danced in a month. I am ready to explode. And if and when I do, it may or may not be pretty.

It hit me when I was in Nanjing (for the second time with a larger group of people, story coming soon), when we were waiting for the bus and I was attempting to play music to distract everyone. I came upon Frankie Manning's T'aint What You Do and the urge to get up and dance was undeniable. I ended up shuffling out a rendition of the shim sham (click for video demo) and then I was sorely wishing for any of my companions to know lindy hop (demo).

Now, it's like I have an itch I can't scratch. I could go days without listening to my music, but now I can't stop. I need to dance. To music that I know, that's not techno club-beat music. A partner who can lead and respond.

I found a place in Shanghai. I need to go. Next chance, definitely...

I need to scratch this itch!

A Weekend in Nanjing

Weather.com says thunderstorms all night, and as how I have all day tomorrow to prepare for this week's lesson, I think I finally have some time actually write a (semi) decent entry.

While I have been planning give an update on the teaching experience, I think I'll wait until after this week to give a better picture of what I'm dealing with.

Instead, I think I'll talk about something more recent: My weekend in Nanjing (南京).

A fellow foreigner and a member of the teaching crew, Henry, was going to Nanjing and as my schedule has a longer than average weekend I decided to tag along. Which was probably one of the best decisions I have made in a very, very long time.

I have never been allowed or had the guts to take a whirlwind trip, get on a train with almost no plan (or adult supervision) and just have fun.

And have fun we did... even when we weren't having fun. (Paradox? Maybe. But it's the truth.)

The first thing I want to say is that the most disappointing thing since I arrived in China happened in Nanjing, in that I lost my camera. It was my own fault and I know somewhere out there my dad is shaking is head with an "I told you so" ready, but I was determined not to let that set the tone for the weekend. (And luckily my iPhone came equipped with a camera, though maybe not as high quality.)

But with that very depressing news out of the way (oh and I plan on finding a cheap camera to get me through the rest of the two months, so don't worry, there will be good pictures!), on to Nanjing:

(Oh, just skyped with Dad, apparently he lost his camera (my old one) too. So dodged that "I told you so".)

The first day did its best to discourage us. Not only was it the day I lost my camera, it was also when we kept on ALMOST getting to where we wanted, but we could not just go all the way. Like, first we show up at the bus station in Wuhu (yeah, yeah, go on, giggle) and tried to get tickets to the bus station (which was relatively close to our hostel) in the center of Nanjing. No tickets available. So we got tickets to the southern bus station... which very, very far away from our hostel.

Oh well, we can just take a taxi, right? Nope. I don't know what was with Nanjing taxi drivers, whether it's because they don't like to drive foreigners around or there was a system that just didn't make sense, but we could not get a taxi into or in the city. And while we didn't have ALL off our belongings with us, walking really wasn't an option. (It would've taken maybe TWO HOURS to do so.)

So how did we get into the city? We did the second thing every good mother tells her kid not to do: we got into a stranger's car. He charged A LOT more than a taxi would have (35 yuan), but we couldn't get a taxi to save our lives. Luckily we were able to make it to our a hostel eventually.

Well... first we found a print shop. Then one of the counter girls kindly walked us around the corner and THEN we found our hostel....

AND THEN we realized we didn't have our passports. Now, we actually thought we wouldn't have to... well Henry didn't. I meant to bring a copy of my passport but it didn't make it into my bag.

So after about two hours we were able to get our office to email a scanned copy of our passports and visas and luckily they accepted that. (There was talk about going to the police station to get registered. Eek!)

After that was finally sorted out and our stuff was safely in our room, Henry and I decided that our best option was to walk around, get to the bus station and buy our tickets in advance.

You'd think that would be easier in a more touristic city like Nanjing, right? Ha! It was so difficult to explain when and where we wanted to go, it took another forty-five minutes.

The sad thing? The people at MacDonald's spoke better English. (Don't judge. We desperately wanted Coke. AND THEY UNDERSTOOD US!)

But in all seriousness, despite all the whining, the first day was pretty enjoyable (except for losing my camera). Nanjing is a very beautiful city and, save for the taxi drivers, most people were very friendly.

The next day we started out going to the Nanjing Massacre Museum. (Cheery, ain't it?) Henry and I braved the metro and, for the most part (with the help of my guidebook and a metro employee and some very nice college girls) we were able to get there without much of a fuss. The girls, cousins Emily and Cindy, were headed the same way so we basically hung around them for some translation. (Emily was an English student and spoke very well for someone who had only been studying two years.)

The museum itself is what you would expect of something with "Massacre" in it's name. If you've ever read/heard of the book The Rape of Nanjing: The Forgotten Holocaust of World War II by Iris Chang, then you know something of this topic. Some parts really were horrifying (such as Japan's propaganda included stories of how their soldiers were peaceful and even giving children candy while walking down the street. Not that I'd expect them to publish how they were murdering and raping mostly civilians, but at least hint to a more gruesome war than what they were telling everyone). It was also really cool to see U.S. newspapers discussing the war in Asia (with bits about the New Deal hear and there).

I could tell why this was the number one recommended stop in my guide book. It really gave a more human feel to an otherwise alienating culture (for a foreigner at least).

That and Henry and I couldn't believe how many people were paying more attention to US than the exhibits. Some kids kept on following us around, a fourteen year old with very good English kept on talking to us about everything and asking how to say certain things while his (presumably) cousins kept on giving us candy.

(So yeah, #1 thing your mother told you to never do, we did.)

Afterward we grabbed lunch with Cindy and Emily, who brought us to a very famous (but cheap) restaurant in Nanjing where I tried the city's famous duck blood soup. (Yes, I gagged after three bites.)

Parting with the girls, we made for Zijin Mountain, specifically to find the cable car to the top. This involved us taking the metro to the wrong side of the mountain to try (and fail) to take a taxi to take a bus where we got off at one stop too late.

Eventually, we made it to the cable car (by following some Chinese guys) and had a pleasant and leisurely ride to the top. We found a park that had some pretty cool statues worked into the natural surroundings (even a really spooky cave). But we didn't spend much time, due to the possibility of the cable car shutting down and having to walk down the mountain at twilight.

The plan for Saturday evening was to have dinner at a restaurant adjacent to the hostel we were staying at. The meal itself was one of the best I've had so far in China, with duck and some sort of ribs and (of course) rice, but it turned out to be a little bit more than we anticipated. (i.e. - Instead of $9 USD it was $15 USD. The outrage!)

Still, Henry decided to jokingly haggle, which one doesn't normally do in a sit down restaurant. It started with him squeaking the price, which the waitresses found hilarious. In fact, it's really easy to be amusing in China if you're a foreigner. Henry proceeded to tell them (in very bad Chinese) that they were pretty, but that still didn't work, and we just paid the bill and left. (Though our funny encounter was to be continued...)

Walking around on Friday, we had stumbled upon a very cool bar that we agreed deserved some investigating. We found out on Saturday that a local band was going to play, and since Henry plays guitar and was in a band, he was specifically interested.

The bar itself supplied a translated menu, so we could easily order and the band was surprisingly very good. I really enjoyed the drummer and the bassist.

Later, after enjoying a few drinks, we get back to the hostel prepared to unwind in the lounge when who should we run into but two of the waitresses that Henry had failed to flirt/haggle with. (I regret to say that I forgot their names.)

One knew English very well and they seemed to have been hanging out just to try and talk to us. (Again, not an uncommon occurrence.) We talked to them beyond what was polite, but eventually had to call it a night. (We ended up seeing the one that spoke the best English the next morning at breakfast and were able to say a more proper goodbye.)

Sunday was a very lazy half-day in Nanjing. We spent our limited time in Xuanwu Lake Park, which was absolutely gorgeous. You know those picturesque photos of China's gardens? It was like being in one of those photos. Sure it was so hot and muggy that by just walking we worked up a sweat and there were a LOT of people there, the park was big enough where we didn't have trouble finding a secluded spot to just sit and take in the surroundings. The lotus lake in particular was my favorite.

Statues and very Chinese-style buildings were everywhere. There really was no mistaking the park for anything but Chinese. It wasn't trying to be American or British (which can sometimes be the case), but it also wasn't alienating to us foreigners (again, sometimes can happen). There were parts that were crowded, but then you could stumble on a calm platform where a small or large group could be walking through the serene motions of tai-chi.

We were stopped twice to get pictures with people, but they were very spaced apart and (as Henry pointed out) when else are we going to get to feel like a star? And it's not like it was impeding or interrupting our day. They were mostly very polite and very respective of our personal space.

The ride home was uneventful and it was good to be back. I highly recommend Nanjing to anyone who is coming to visit China. (Heck, I might tag along.)

Until next time, I'll be roaming.

Old Photographs

Today, July 2, 2011, my aunt Mariette Zonnenberg passed away. This post was going to sum up my past week in Wuhu, what my daily routine has been, etc. but it's so hard after hearing this news to go back to such a light topic.

When Oma asked me to write a little something for Mariette, I could not think of what to say. I have seen Mariette in person only a handful of times in the short time in which our lives overlapped. It’s hard to truly know a person when, for most of our shared time on this earth, an entire country and ocean separates us. And, I’m embarrassed to say, that I got distracted with my current endeavor in China and let Oma’s request temporarily slip my mind.

I learned of Mariette’s passing through, of all things, Facebook. Her sons, Daniel and Michael were liking and commenting posts on Mariette’s wall left by friends and loved ones who were saying their final goodbyes. By reading these, I soon discovered that I also had a few things to say.

Like I said only a few moments ago, I cannot say that I knew Mariette well, like a close sibling or a friend, but what I do know about her, I cannot help but admire her for her courage, her strength and her love and kindness.

I know she was devout in her beliefs. Any lesser person might have been frightened in her situation. But through email accounts, I could tell that Mariette was keeping her faith and her family strong and thanked God for every moment she was given.

I know she was a very talented artist. I loved it when Daniel posted pictures of his mother’s paintings. They were always so beautiful and vibrant and full of life. I could tell that a lot of Mariette went into her paintings and it was something she took particular joy in.

And I know she loved her family very, very much. Mariette loved unconditionally. And it was most apparent when she was with her family. Peter, Daniel and Michael were the lights of her life and only something as permanent as death could have torn her away from them after only such a short period of time. But I do not believe that those we love ever truly leave us. And Mariette is still with all of us.

Death does not have to be such a solid divider between us and those who we have lost. So much of us is made by what we learn from those we share even a brief time with on this earth. And it stands to reason that those closest to us shape who we are. And Mariette has touched so many of our lives that she is still here with us, even if we might not see her.

Mariette, though we never had more than a handful of days together, I was lucky to have known you and to call you my aunt. And I know you’re looking down from Heaven on all of us, smiling. Know that you are loved and missed by so many people. And I hope that one day we will meet again.

Love, Nicole.

I'm One of a Kind! (Especially in Wuhu, China)

I have arrived to the surface of the sun! I mean Wuhu, China! (Yeah, yeah, get all the jokes out now people, I have two months here and I guarantee there is only so much you can do with that name.)

I left Shanghai around 9:30 and had a pretty peaceful four hour bus ride. To my amusement they played Kung Fu Panda (in English with Chinese subtitles) the first half. As I love this movie (and its sequel even more) I appreciated it. But for the most part I watched Shanghai turn into the Chinese country, which looks as one would think it would.

I did take some pictures, but there was nothing that really screamed "SHARE ME!".

An adorable little Chinese boy who introduced himself as Alex sat behind me and we played a little poking game. He was so cute and in the last hour became really brave and would talk to me. Unfortunately, due to my very, VERY limited Chinese, I was only able to say that I spoke English and that I didn't understand him. From what I COULD understand is that he was going to Wuhu to visit his father and that he was four years old.

He also knew his numbers in Chinese AND in English! I dare anyone to find a four year old child in America (whose parents speak only English) who can do that. (My children will be able to do that.)

And then I arrived in Wuhu. One thing that I was very much aware of on the bus ride over and even more so at the bus station at Wuhu was how much of a minority I was.

I was a minority of 1. People would stare at me (and I would adamantly look everywhere but where people were) because I was not only the only person not of Asian decent, but my blond hair and blue eyes made me stick out like a sore thumb.

In Shanghai, I had two random strangers (a boy and a girl both I would guess in their twenties) come up and ask to take a picture with me. In my very brief experience with Wuhu public, someone like me is ten times more rare.

It's almost humbling. While it's not negative attention, my looks plus the fact that I can barely communicated with these people really help drive the alienation home. It's very intimidating, although some people went out of their way to say "Hello" to me and I try my best to say "Ni hao" (hello) and "xie xie" (thank you) as much as possible.

These little things seem to remove some of the awkwardness that comes with a language and cultural barrier. And if there are any rude Chinese people, they have not attempted to contact me.

Four more of my fellow teachers arrive soon and I am attempting to accomplish some laundry in the very, VERY tiny washer before they arrive (but seeing as how it has this nasty habit of stopping, it's taking longer than I would have liked). I'll probably dedicate an entire entry to my apartment (that I'll be sharing with one person). While it's not living in a dirt hut, it is very humbling for an American who can keep a house at comfortable 77*F. (It's HOT AS HADES in Wuhu! I have never been so appreciative of a fan in my life!)

Luckily I do have internet access so I will keep you updated every step of the way.

So, here's to two months in the middle of China!

An Explanation... Kind Of

Many people have called me brave for going to the middle of China essentially alone for two months. A lot of people ask me (sometimes more than once, as if expecting my answer to change) if I'm anxious/nervous/etc. Not really, I may feel excitement but nothing so negative as those other feelings.

And I also have to disagree with the people that call me brave. What I am doing doesn't require a lot of courage. At least, not for me.

I'm used to being in an environment where I don't know any one person. Growing up, I went to two elementary schools, four middle schools and two high schools. So the idea of (temporary) alienation doesn't scare me. (Besides, at least ten other people will be in the same boat and that will give us some common ground. A luxury not usually found when transferring schools half way through the year.)

As for being so far away from family/friends, I was the kid who begged her parents to send her to an overnight camp. I was the young woman who woke up the day she move would move to college and have the car packed before her family members even got out of bed. I've never experienced true homesickness. Maybe a little bit of nostalgia or a fleeting moment of wishing, but then I revel in my independence and freedom and rarely look back.

The only thing that I would agree is disconcerting is the culture that I am immersing myself in. Having only spent less than a week on the other side of the world, I can say for certain that it is VERY different in the U.S. And yet...

I'm not entirely shocked. (True enough I've only experienced two major cities that can be very tourist friendly and have yet to experience TRUE China.) I came expecting the worst. And while some things HAVE shocked me (i.e. - toilets in the ground and bare ass babies), it is nothing that other people have not warned me about.

So... no I'm not brave. In fact, I've always found people who can stay in one place, live with the same people for years and years who know them to a fault brave. It's very difficult to imagine someone knowing enough about me that they can pick me a part. In fact, to me such a relationship leaves one vulnerable to the point where it's scary.

I've rarely been positively rewarded in such a relationship (the exception being one or two current best friends), so to me it takes a very strong and brave person to open themselves up to people like that.

In comparison, being some place where you can be whoever you want to be in a strange but exciting and interesting culture where you're encouraged to learn and experience new things? That's easy.

Hong Kong: The Tour and the Typhoon

Okay, I am FORCING myself to at least begin this entry. It is now the beginning of my third day in this harbor and I really do want to share what I've been up to.

The first day was a bit tough. But even after traveling and losing an entire day and my Dad and I not really on the same internal schedule, we wanted to see the city.

I was actually surprised at how Westernized the city was. I had forgotten that it had been an English territory until 1997, so I wasn't expecting for the cars/buses to be English, or that they would be driving on the left side of the road.

Also what struck me was how English translation almost always came before the Chinese characters. In America, Europe and (as far as I know) most of South America, if there needs to be an English translation, it comes after the dominant language in the country. But not Hong Kong. (I suppose it is due to being an English territory.)

So around 1: 25, Dad and I caught a half-day tour of Hong Kong/Mt. Victoria. But not before negotiating for a tailored suit and meeting Bono:

The tour itself had its high points and low points. The first two stops I liked very much, the first being the Temple of Man and Mo and the second being Mount Victoria.

The Temple of Man and Mo was beautiful.

The Temple of Man is also the temple of Literature, Intelligence. Students often come to pray for better grades. The Temple of Mo (like General) is the temple of Power and Justice. The Hong Kong people often go to pray for health, intelligence and wisdom, writing them on red sheets of paper and/or lighting incense and placing them in bowls of sand in front of the statues.

We also ran into a very familiar street name.

Mount Victoria's view was breath taking. Though it didn't lack modern amenities.

However, the tour also stopped at two different types of markets, encouraging us to buy things. I learned from my Chinese classes that this was common practice, but was still disappointed.
The last thing we did was take a small boat tour around the Hong Kong harbor and it offered some incredible sites. One being the largest floating restaurant (appropriately named: Jumbo Floating Restaurant), owned by one of the richest men in Hong Kong/China. It can seat up to two thousand people at once.

The second day was more of a vacation. There were plans for a boat tour of Hong Kong junk boats at night (supposedly artfully lit up and gorgeous with the backdrop of the Hong Kong skyline). But due to a typhoon less than 800 km away, the trip was cancelled.

So I treated myself to a massage and got some reading done.
Now, I am in Shanghai (it took me a few days to get this entry done) and have so much more to tell you! But for now, I have to take a break. I leave for my job in Wuhu in less than 48 hours! I cannot believe it's almost here!

Hong Kong: The Journey

My last American meal.

And so, 11 a.m. EST, the journey began:

Sustenance for the harrowing journey.

And then, like a great epic, we had to pass through three gates.

We passed the gate keepers with nary a problem.

Heck yeah! Window seat!

The third gate was the most worrisome. Did our bags make it? Would we make it? So close and so much could go wrong!

But all the worry was for not as our bags and us made it in one piece.

Our hotel was a welcome site after 12+ hours of traveling in very uncomfortable airplane seats.

(Arrival time 11: 30 p.m. HKT, June 20, 2011)

The traveling was one of the more testing things I've ever done. It was the excitement of going to a country and continent I have never been before that made it bearable. I'll hopefully get to come back and do a full entry on my first day in Hong Kong (not just pictures with captions). Until then, I'll be roaming!

"Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother" Part 2

Last night I finished Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother and slept on it... and now what I was going to say is mostly out of my head. (Probably fell out of my ears while I was tossing and turning last night.)

I won't ruin the story for you (much). But Chua does eventually make peace with her daughters and the tiger.

Over the course of reading it, I talked about it to many people. A lot recognized the story of the tiger mom and usually followed that with "that horrible mother!" (Most of the time, this was someone who had only heard the rough outline, not actually read the book.)

The thing is, I don't think she was a horrible mother. A lot of the book was Chua comparing Chinese and Western philosophies and raising children. And truthfully, she points out a lot (if not most) of the flaws with Western parenting. Not to say that hers is flawless.

There is no such thing as a perfect parenting technique. Or at least, that's what I got out of it. Each person, each child is different and so is each parent. In the end, it was the acceptance that there is no one way, for Chua. Who has this to say on her website:

Jokes aside about A+s and gold medals (much of my book is self-parody), in the end for me it’s not about grades or Ivy League schools. It’s about believing in your child more than anyone else – more than they believe in themselves – and helping them realize their potential, whatever it may be.

My book has been controversial. Many people have misunderstood it. If I could push a magic button and choose either happiness or success for my children, I’d choose happiness in a second. But I don’t think it’s as simple as that; it can be a tough world out there, and true self-esteem has to be earned.

I genuinely believe that there are many ways of being a good parent. We all want our kids to grow up happy, strong, and self-reliant. But different cultures have very different ideas about the best way to do that. And we should all be able to learn from each other.

If you are interested, Amy Chua also has a twitter. Her eldest daughter, Sophia, has a blog and twitter as well.

It's easy, at least it was for me, who grew up with Western ideals and thinking, of how horrible it was for this woman to push her daughters so hard. But in the end, I don't think she wrote the book to show how her methods worked (or didn't). I think she wrote the book to show that a parent's job is a choice and how it effects the children. Chua's unapologetic about how she did it, and even says she'd do it all over again.

She was still able to salvage a good, healthy relationship. And I think that's what matters. To be able to admit when you're wrong. To be able to grow. And to be able to compromise.

At least, that's what I got out of it.

Days till China: 8

'Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother' Part 1

Today (or rather yesterday, since it is now almost 1 a.m. in the morning), during dinner, my mom gave us some belated gifts. My brother's was to celebrate his graduation from high school and going off to college (appropriately one of my favorite books: Dr. Seuss's Oh, The Places You Will Go!). Mine was a bit of a going away present before China: Amy Chua's Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother.

Apparently my mom's friends (either from work or from Bible study) strongly recommended this book once hearing that I was going to China to teach English. Curious and excited, I read the summary inside the book flaps and my interest was piqued. The book is about how a mother decided to raise her Chinese-Jewish daughters the "Chinese way".

In fact, this is how the book opens:

A lot of people wonder how Chinese parents raise such stereotypically successful kids. They wonder what these parents do to produce so many math whizzes and music prodigies, what it's like inside the family, and whether they could do it too. Well, I can tell them, because I've done it. Here are some things my daughters, Sophia and Louisa, were never allowed to do:

• attend a sleepover
• have a playdate
• be in a school play
• complain about not being in a school play
• watch TV or play computer games
• choose their own extracurricular activities
• get any grade less than an A
• not be the #1 student in every subject except gym and drama
• play nay instrument other than the piano or violin
• not play the piano or violin

I already was aware of the gaping divide in philosophy concerning how children were raised/educated between Chinese and Western cultures. All of my Chinese language classes have been taught be graduate students from China and one of my favorite parts of class was when they would impart some knowledge of their culture.

One of the things I remember from my first semester of Chinese was our teacher telling us how you couldn't date until you were in college. If your teacher found out, i.e. - seeing you holding hands or kissing, they would hold a parent-teacher conference to fix everything right away.

Another thing I remember, this time from my second semester and a different teacher, is when the kids are asked "What do you want to be when you grow up?", the kid who puts artist or teacher will get a lower grade than the kid who wrote doctor or lawyer.

There are two things about me that make this last piece of information particularly striking to me:

1. I am very passionate about education, and
2. I am very passionate about free will and creativity.

So while I can understand the want for a child to succeed and achieve their full potential, I also think that a child should be able to make choices and have fun.

I started reading the book around ten o'clock and am already half way through book. I am fascinated, horrified and (on some level) empathetic to this woman who is describing how she raised her daughters in a Chinese fashion. I can't put it down. (Which is unfortunate since I have a dentist appointment at 8 a.m., my internship at 10, and then lunch with my mom and her friend at 1.)

When I read about this woman's choices, I can't help but be a little horrified and know one thing absolutely: If Amy Chua was my mother, I would without a doubt hate her.

There is never a day, birthday, sick day, vacation or otherwise, that she does not have her daughters practice their instruments (piano and violin) one to three hours a day. When her daughters get less than an A, than first place, she buys practice books and flash cards and drills them till they are absolutely perfect. And when her daughters (usually the younger one) fight back, it's screaming, yelling, punching, biting, until Chua usually wins out in the end.

There are times when she describes the fruits of her labor, and they are beautiful. Her daughters by the age of seven, nine, thirteen, are accomplished, praised, have multiple awards and titles for their talents and knowledge. And I must admit, they are enviable.

I could go on how this brought up thoughts of my own upbringing and accomplishments, but the minutes keep going by, so I will save it for another time.

The last chapter I read, though, was about Chua's mother-in-law and her death. The mother-in-law, Florence, is a woman that I can definitely say I would have loved her. An established art critic who was the life of the party and loved life and color and experience and encouraged her granddaughters to explore and rebel and be creative, much more soothing. The girls obviously adored her. But Florence became ill, an acute case of leukemia and sadly passed away. The girls gave their own small eulogies at the funeral, and from the snippets provided I could tell that both speeches were both beautiful.

Of course, Chua shared the secret behind this. It started with a tangent of one of Chua's birthday, where both her daughters presented her a card each of her own hand. And these were what you might expect from elementary aged kids. Kind of sloppy, maybe a little rushed with a simple "Happy Birthday" written in the fold. And Chua rejects both cards, shaming her children for their mediocre gifts and asking for better ones.

When the eldest daughter says how she wanted to make a better one but she didn't have time between school and practicing the piano for three hours, Chua merely says "You should have gotten up earlier."

I was actually sick at this point. I couldn't imagine saying something like that to a child. But connecting this to the grandmother's funeral, Chua had told Florence about the event and Florence laughed in astonishment but warned Chua, "But they'll be mad at you."

Chua shared this story in order to tell the reader how she rejected her daughters' first attempts at their eulogies.

Sophia's first draft was terrible, rambling and superficial. Lulu's wasn't so great either, but I held my elder daughter to a higher standard. Perhaps because I was so upset myself, I lashed out at her. "How could you, Sophia?" I said viciously. "This is awful. It has no insight. It has no depth. It's like a Hallmark card--which Popo (Florence) hated. You are so selfish. Popo loved you so much--and you--produce--this!"

For the record, Sophia is thirteen.

Sophia took none of my suggestions. Slamming the door after I left, she locked herself in her bedroom and rewrote the speech herself. She refused to show it to me, wouldn't look at me, even after she had cooled down and changed into a black dress and black tights. And later, at the service when sophia was at the podium speaking, looking dignified and calm, I didn't miss the pointed lines:

Popo never settled for anything--a dishonest conversation, a film not quite true to the book, a slightly false display of emotion. Popo wouldn't allow people to put words in my mouth.

It was a wonderful speech. ... I could just imagine a beaming Florence saying, "I'm bursting."

On the other hand, Florence was right. The kids were definitely mad at me. But as a Chinese mother, I put that out of my head.

I couldn't imagine even having this mindset. Emotion is such a part of who I am and what drives me, that pushing away people's feelings in order to perfect a eulogy just seems... heartless to me. And to ignore her daughters' animosity.

Even though none of this should surprise me, from what I gather from class and Chinese natives describing similar situations, the glimpse into this mindset chills my blood. To me it's so cold and machine-like, no human or loving qualities at all. While Chua does reference some times when her daughters seem grateful, I can't for the life of me remember one instance as clearly as I do others.

I have hope for the second half of the book, since the cover does read:

This was supposed to be a story of how Chinese parents are better at raising kids than Western ones.

But instead, it's about a bitter clash of cultures, a fleeting taste of glory, and how I was humbled by a thirteen-year-old.

So, I think I will head to bed, and continue this when I've read more of, possibly even finish, the book.

Only Pop Music Can Save Us Now!

This message is brought to you by the awesome CD that my friend Rita made me. :)

I've been neglecting this blog.

No, no. It's true, don't try and make me feel better about it.

The truth is, this isn't my only blog. (Or at least, it isn't my first blog.) And it takes a while for a blog to feel "homey" enough to write in.

A lot and nothing has happened since I last wrote, so I think I'll just take you through bit by bit of my life this past week:

(1) I must have stared at my China visa for hours! (Maybe not consecutively, but as a whole that's a modest estimate.) I love it so much. Not only is everything translated into Chinese, but it has my name on it. My name. It's so surreal to see my name in such a formal looking document/sticker. With the duration of 60 days printed on it.

I've never stayed outside the U.S. for more than a month, much less been out of the country by myself.

When I look at my visa, it's the only time I ever feel the familiar pull of excitement in my belly. The only time where I actually start to imagine smaller details of the adventure I'm about to embark on. Like what I'm going to do, who I'm going to meet.

I'm thinking about renting a bike (since my school has that as an option) and just spend days exploring every nook and cranny.

And I can't help but smile. :)

(2) My "internship", which I work three hours two days a week at for no pay (not that the pay check would be much with those hours), but it's given me such a look into the museum world that I can't help but look forward to it every week.

The work is rewarding, if not sometimes tedious, and I'm learning possibilities of what I can eventually rise to.

I was talking to my friend Rita about what I wanted to do with my life and it all boils down to two possibilities: art director (for films or advertising companies) or museum curator. I won't go into either much, but it's nice to know that should things start to lean towards the museum world, I would not be unhappy.

(3) General life stuff keeps on happening to me as general life stuff does. And I will say that this "stuff" is why I haven't been writing in this blog. A lot of it has been really personal and concerning other people who might not appreciate details out there on the world wide web.

But I can say this: I, myself, have been pretty depressed for the past two months.

Depression and I are no strangers, though for the most part I have been able to continue with my life and eventually escape its grasp. But this is the first time where I really felt effecting my life in a negative way.

There are several reasons why this depression hit me as hard as it did, including but not limited to family illnesses, stress of classes and I got dumped.

If you know me in real life none of that is news, and if you don't know me in real life it isn't relevant.

What I want to say right now is that I'm back. I might not be better, I might not even be okay, but I'm back and I know where I'm going and I know what I want. And all of it has to do with my life and where I'm going and I'm a strong and independent woman with a whole world of possibilities in front of her.

This depression will not be gone soon, maybe even never, but I've lived through trials before and now is not any different.

I'm going to freaking China! I'm going to be starting my junior year in undergrad! I'm going to be living with one of my best friends!

The people that matter most love me and support me and I them, and you know what? I'm so freaking lucky. :)

Days till China: 22

Guess What Arrived Today!

My Chinese Visa!

It's kind of amazing how fast my trip is approaching and how little I have done to prepare for it. (Aside from the obvious.)

I still desperately need to at least come up with a list to pack as well as start setting things aside for the Fall semester.

Still, this piece of mail is another step towards what will be an amazing chapter in my life. :)

My Inbox

Today, as I procrastinate from my last exam, I opened my inbox to find:

+ My plane ticket to and from China

+ Application for my work visa

+ And a more detailed list for the clothes I'll need to work in the classroom.

It's beginning to happen people.

The (Almost) End of a (Truly Bizarre) Semester

I hesitate to start this blog now. Although, that has always been my problem with blogging in general. Sometimes I feel like I need a purpose or at least something poignant to contribute to the world wide bloggersphere. And, technically I have something to talk about. Or at least, I will soon.

Until April 28, however, I am a slave to my professors' assignments. And what better purpose for a blog than procrastination? (I ask you.)*

In relation to the title, this has been a pretty bizarre semester. An emotional roller coaster is another way to describe it. I have been going through some painful growing pains in all aspects of my life and continually am surprised to learn things about myself.

College does that. Make you learn stuff, that is.

I was honestly surprised the other day when, during some contemplation, I realize I still perceive myself as a "girl", certainly not the adult that my dad called me the last time I visited home. Every time I look in the mirror now, I take a good long look. I have changed so much even in the last couple of months, forget when I first became an authentic college student. I might as well be a completely different person.

Every now and then I think of myself a year, two years, five years ago, where I was, what I was thinking, what was important to me, and now more than ever such reflection usually calls for a few moments of quiet contemplation. So much has happened, has changed in my life and in myself. I think about what I wanted to do with my life and where I wanted to be, and how similar and different I am since then.

A lot of the time I wonder what would happen if I could sit down and talk with my younger self at different stages in my life. Mostly I'm curious as to what really little me would think, way back in the beginning of elementary school since that's the time that's most fuzzy. That, and my angry teenager self.

I wish I could go back and tell them what I know now. That what I used to think was important was so inconsequential, such a waste of my time. Or tell them to really appreciate things. (Okay, typing that made me feel like an adult.)

I still feel so much out of depth. This semester in particular has been particularly trying. It has made me reevaluate my relationships with people and what I want out of them. Even though I already knew it, it also surprised me to re-realize how impermanent almost all relationships are. While at first sobering, I came to the conclusion that this does not have to be a depressing thought.

I won't get preachy. Because let's face it, if anyone is reading this they probably quit a while back. (I still don't really have anything to talk about.) All I'm saying is that, I'm going to make an effort to really appreciate the relationships that I have now, and learn from the ones that didn't last.

Not really a new epiphany, but hey, just stuff from my brain. That's what blogs are for, right?

Days till Korea/China: 70

*My Italian lit essay might feel bit neglected, but I am over a quarter of the way done and the library is failing as my productive catalyst.