Ma La Girl Adventures: Hot Pot At Home

Ma La girls like hot pot. I had a hot pot dinner party at my house this past week, with spices I brought home from Chongqing. (I saved the wrappers and I'll be taking them to the Asian market to see if they can order more for me.)

Here is the food table, next to the eating table. In China the plates of food for hot pot come out on a multi-tiered cart, but because I don't have one of those, I used a card table. There are meatballs, little smokies, lotus, rice sticks, quail's eggs, noodles, squids, and two kinds of tofu. (We also had golden mushrooms and chicken pieces but those were already on the table.)

Here is a shot of the table set up. I bought an induction cooker to use in my apartment, because that's the kind of cooker I had in China and I found I prefer it to the convection cooking more popular here in America. I used it that night for the hot pot; not only is it portable to the table, but inductions don't get hot like convections so no one was going to burn themselves. It worked really well.

Hot pot tables in China are built into the table, like this:

I wonder if they would be considered a fire hazard here in America, due to the open flame below the table? I'll have to ask the next firefighter I see. I'd love to build a hot pot table for my house.

 The small white bowls on my table are filled with the sesame oil/garlic/cilantro/msg mixture you dip the cooked food into before eating. They all loved it!  I was really happy to be able to share this part of Chinese culture with them, and of course eat deeleeciours hot pot.

Just the smells of hot pot brought back so many memories! My most memorable hot pot was when I ate bull penis, and my second most memorable was eating it at 4 AM with friends after leaving a club. I knew I was a real Ma La Chongqing girl when I could eat hot pot at 4 AM.

The Girl Who Wanted Her Voice Heard

You might have heard that China doesn't allow people to express their opinions about the government publicly and doesn't allow freedom of speech.

This is all true.

One of my great disappointments in learning Mandarin was realizing no one was saying anything really worth overhearing. People won't express a contrary opinion publicly, so they don't say anything opinionated at all. Casual conversations flow about food, fashion and money and not much else.

Which is why it was so shocking when I was judging a Shanghai Education Press-sponsored, city-wide high school English speech competition, and one of the girls opened her speech in the crowded auditorium by saying, "Our hands built the buildings that fell during the earthquake; our hands made the milk that killed the babies." (Referring to the tens of thousands killed by shoddy building construction and the tainted milk scandal hushed up because of the Olympics.)

I was floored, and shocked, and nervous for her, all at the same time. People in China do not say such things. At least, not publicly. I glanced down the row of judges (I was the only foreign judge) and saw a line of non-responsive, impassive faces. Which meant they were shocked, too.

This was a girl who had to have known she would not win the competition saying such things. It couldn't be done. And she said them anyway. What will happen to this girl, and others like her, who despite being told repeatedly to silence their voices, want their voices heard? I don't know.

But I will never forget that girl.

I have often hoped that if I had any success as a Peace Corps teacher in China, it was in creating a space for my students where they knew they could say anything, any contrary or adverse opinion, with no fear.

_____

Not everyone wants their voice heard. For a long time, I did. I had a chance that girl doesn't have. Maybe for that reason alone, because I could, writing here has been of value.

Here's what I'll be doing in my future: I will love, and be loved, even more than I do and am today. I will reunite with treasured close friends and make new ones and see where life takes us. I will find the place I can settle down and feel at home. I will struggle, as we all inevitably do, and I will find joy. As Robert Frost said: "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on."

Chinese Beer Garden Aficionados (Video)

A big part of Chinese culture is sitting at night at a beer garden; this activity starts after dinner and often goes until the early morning hours. The beer gardens are located outside restaurants or sprung up on sidewalks next to food tables and carts. It is common for the sidewalks in my city to be lined with beer gardens.

Beer gardens aren't a weekend thing, they're an everyday activity. As I have mentioned here before, it takes so long to do anything in my part of China, there isn't an expectation to do more than 1 or 2 things per day. For the Chinese in my city, sitting at night at a beer garden with family or friends is a really important part of daily life. Chinese culture is structured around relationships; this is part of building them.

Most volunteers took to this custom quickly and easily. The video below is not only a good example of the atmosphere of these places (notice the blue stools we're sitting on), but also of the amount of free time we had on our hands every day; I mean, do you have this kind of conversation unless you have A LOT of free time?? Or as R. succinctly put it: "We did nothing but sit around and talk nonsense for two years! No wonder readjustment [to America] has been so difficult!"

This beer garden had a mug of swizzle sticks on the table; every time you ordered a round, they removed a swizzle stick for each drink. At the end of the night, they counted up the swizzle sticks for your bill. It was a great, low-tech way to keep track of drinks in a place where tabs don't exist.

(The movie they're talking about is Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.)

So This Is Life

After the roller-coaster that was life in China, life back in America can sometimes seem a little...plain.

Not bad. Plain.

So this is life now: work hard, go to bed early, get up early, meditate, read, study, make time for friends, talk over the internet with far-flung well-loved friends, make vacation plans, work on art projects, watch Community, shop for food, do laundry, clean, Netflix in bed, cook, do all of these things many times all over again.

It's a good life. I'm adapting to life here in the American Western desert, but it sure does take some getting used to.

I've met some fun people here and I'm reminded again that 99% of people in this world are good-hearted and kind and worth knowing. I'm now able to accept I liked those not-so-good guys in my past because I didn't believe I was worth more than how they treated me. It's hard to admit that, but overcoming it has made a big difference in my life. Kind and steady beats jerky and exciting any day of the week. This is truth. The guys who have taught me this are decent, as well as sexy and exciting. (Yes, it is possible to be all three.)

Having said that, I don't think I have much else to say these days. Maybe it is the winter blahs. Maybe it is because I have been writing here for four years (!), and probably it is time for me to do something else. Maybe because this week, the volunteer who replaced me at my school died. (Very sad and tragic.) It has made me reflective of what my life has meant so far. And what it will mean in the future. My birthday is this month, a good time for a new start for me. I'll never delete these posts, because people read them and email me for advice about China or the Peace Corps and this makes my day!  I'm not sure what else I'll say here. But these things I've said, they were very important to me. Thanks for listening, and commiserating, and sharing.

Many of you have been silent readers. Thanks to you too, for taking the time to listen.

As we say in China, 再见！

Youngest and Oldest Kids: Adventures of the Chongqing Nanny

I get along well with youngest children; most of my best friends and men I've been out with are youngest kids. I'm an oldest, so perhaps it's just an easy paradigm to fall into. My second year, most of the new volunteers assigned to Chongqing were guys. (New volunteers arrive every July; because we serve for two years, you serve with a different group your first and second years.) And almost all of them were youngest children.

Because I'd already been in Chongqing a year when the new volunteers arrived, I was happy to take on the role of 411 if they needed it. I told them about getting around the city and food and shopping and whatever else they needed to know. But then I started getting calls from restaurants, asking me to talk to their server to order their dinner. One of the girls sometimes called me and she was always "Hey, can you help me out? I've tried and it's not working." But the boys were like, "Hi, order my food, 'k thanks bye." I started to get annoyed by the boys. I started to feel like I wasn't their friend, I was their nanny. On the one hand, it was flattering they thought I knew so much. On the other hand, I'm not your mom. It's funny now to me how easy it was for us to fall into this pattern, because both sides were willing to take on the role of youngest/oldest. (Yes, I am stereotyping-- not all youngest or oldest kids act like this. But we did.)

I finally told them I felt like their nanny, not their friend, and I didn't like that. They started making an effort to make sure they knew I was their friend first, nanny second (haha), balance restored. Even now I sometimes still get emails asking for help with something Chongqing-related. I'm happy to help out. And they taught me more about being very laid-back, carefree and fun-loving. Youngest and oldest: it's a dynamic that works.

Happy Halloween! Hope you have a great time. Be safe! Here's a picture from last year I don't think I've shared before. He didn't know what to be for Halloween, so like a good nanny I took him in at the last minute, gave him my Chinese silk dragon robe, cut off the sleeves of this t-shirt, blew dry his just-washed gym shorts with my hair-dryer and gave him a (make-up based) black eye. I also taped up his hands but it disappeared by the time this picture was taken. I had to rush him past the guards outside my apartment because at the time they were still housing swine flu quarantinees in my building. But look at him: would YOU mess with this boxer? I still love the memory of us trying to get a taxi in our Halloween getups. Crazy Americans.

Fish Sellers and My Block in Chongqing (Yangjiaping)

I’m going through pictures and videos I took while in China, and I’ll be posting the ones that I think share a lot about what it was like to live in China and Chongqing and that I hope will be of some interest to you. They’re all short videos, 2 minutes or less.

This first one was a common sight on the sidewalk at night; small sidewalk restaurants sold fresh fish pan-broiled in hot spices with veggies. As you can see, there is a basin of oxygenated water keeping the fish alive. You pick out the fish you want and the guy weighs it on the scale; you pay by weight. As you can also see, the fish was flopping around too much. It really shocked me to see this the first few times, and then I got used to it. When he chucks it down the sidewalk, he’s throwing it to the person who will cook it. I know we think it’s gross to kill and eat meat on the spot, but without access to good refrigeration, this was the safest way to eat meat in China for a long time, and now it’s tradition.



This second video is of the block where I lived; it begins as I step through the main gate where my apartment was located, and continues to the end of the block. The thing I remember most is all the noise of this street. This was during the lunch/naptime block, so there were fewer people on the street.

This block is where I caught buses to go to the train station, bus station and to V's house and the entertainment/shopping district of Shapingba, where a few other friends lived. (I had to cross the street and walk a ways further to take buses to R.'s and T.'s homes.) This block is also where I bought beauty items, tea drinks, street snacks and other misc. items. Crossing at the end of the block led to the subway station and the Yangjiaping (my 'hood) main entertainment/shopping district, where we went for the big grocery store, bank, movies and nicer restaurants. I spent a considerable amount of time walking this stretch of my city, and I made friends with some of the sellers who set up on this block.



If you have any questions about anything you see in the videos, please ask and I will answer in the comments.

Bodily Functions Are For Everyone, Even The Vaginal Ones

Most of you know Chinese culture views privacy differently than American culture, most easily explained as 'there isn't any expectation of privacy in Chinese culture.' I knew this affected personal space, family and friendly secrets, neighbors knowing what you're up to all the time, everyone always in your bidness, etc.  but I didn't realize it also extended to the body.

It does.

In my experience, bodily functions aren't considered private in China. Sneezing, burping, coughing, passing gas, peeing: all these things are viewed as natural functions of the body, so you don't have to say excuse me, you don't God Bless anyone, and you definitely don't feel embarrassed when they happen...if you're Chinese, that is! Many North Americans...it might take a while to get to that point. (I think this is also why babies and little kids pee everywhere and no one freaks out. Babies pee and poop...why NOT on the sidewalk?)

When you first get to China, you're probably going to get sick. I can't think of anyone in my group who didn't get sick, but we have doctors available 24/7 and they will ask you all kinds of questions about the quality and quantity of your poop and whether or not you see anything weird in the toilet bowl. After a while, you kind of get used to talking about these things. (Some more than others!)

I knew I had become pretty comfortable when I was handed a bag of medicine at our January training conference, just prior to my trip to Hainan Island. (Sidenote: before we went on vacation we had to submit an itinerary; the medical staff checked it to give us any special medications we might need before going to that area, like malarial drugs.) I was sitting with a bunch of my guy friends when I opened my bag, which included a box of Chinese brand vaginal yeast infection suppositories. I pulled it out to inspect more closely. "Um, why do I have this? Why did the medical office give me vaginal suppositories??" Now, usually the last thing a group of 20-something guys wants to discuss is vaginal suppositories, but they started firing questions at me:

"Let me see it...yup, that's what it is."
"Hmmm...DO you have a yeast infection?"
"Is there anything weird going on down there?"
"It includes a finger glove? Open it up, let's see it!"
"So THAT'S how you say 'vagina' in Mandarin!" (He was joking, he already knew!)

I wasn't embarrassed at all to be discussing what the medical office thought was possibly wrong with my vagina with a table full of guys I see on a regular basis. Thanks China, for giving me the gift of no shame.

(Endnote: my friend C., who is super awesome but lives in another province so I hardly ever got to see him, piped up with the correct answer: "Wait-- did they also give you malaria meds? You need the suppositories  in case the malaria medicine gives you a yeast infection." C. was the hero that day!)

It also made me laugh when a good friend went home and literally the first thing she said to me when she got back was, "I have diarrhea." Only in Peace Corps...

Autumn Can Change Your Life

Caution: this is kind of a girly post.

For those who don't know me personally, I am half Chilean, half American. I inherited my mom's darker Chilean coloring and my dad's American features. I'm a mutt! And all my life people (salespersons, friends, etc.) have been telling me my coloring is Winter, because I have dark hair and dark eyes. Winters have pink undertones in their skin and look great in lots of white, black, navy blue, cherry reds, purples, etc... And gray. I LOVE gray. My mom would always tell me I looked like I was constantly dressing for a funeral because I wore so much black, gray, and white. But I noticed in lots of pictures, I looked kinda terrible. I thought I just really didn't take good pictures.

So one day I'm in China innocently looking something up on the internet and I read that many Latina and Asian women are not Winter, they are Autumn: dark hair and eyes but with gold undertones to their skin, not pink, and that a quick way to check if you are Winter or Autumn is too look at the veins in your arms and legs: are they blue or greenish in hue? I checked: totally green! I've been an Autumn all along! So really, I should be wearing browns, golds, brickish reds, and warm colors, not cool. Changed my life, y'all. I started replacing all my blacks with browns, whites with creams, and cherry reds for warmer hues. It really did change the tone and reflection of my skin. I looked much healthier and less pallid. The gray is really hard to stop wearing, though. I still love it.

Two related stories:

1. I emailed my mom and said, "Guess what? I'm an Autumn, blah blah blah" and explained to her the whole theory. My mom is very fashionable from her days as a singer, so she likes this topic. I got back an email in all caps that simply said, "I TOLD YOU NOT TO WEAR SO MUCH BLACK." Touché mom, touché.

2. T. and I were sitting talking when a Chinese girl told him out of the blue, "You look like a Brazilian soccer player, but that shirt is wrong for you." He looked at me and I said, "Yeah... she's right. Let me see your arm." Blue veins! He was wearing green, an Autumn color, and he is definitely a Winter. I had a chance to color code a few of my American friends in China; I know they are all SO grateful for my help. (I'm pretty sure things like this are the things they tolerate about me.) I also share this example because I love how in Chinese culture, this was totally normal for her to say. I don't know if I'd ever tell someone I didn't know well and wasn't being paid to help that their shirt color was all wrong for them. But in China, it's totally fine to do that. Your business is my business, mi amour.

In China most people are Autumns, and I noticed that the clothing for sale reflected that: lots of yellow and green and brown and warmer colors. And I've noticed here in America, it's all white, black, blue and red. It's harder for me to find those warmer colors here. Just an observation.

Check your veins! It might change your life. (Spring is the fairer version of Autumn, Summer is the fairer version of Winter.)

Boy Children, Advertisements, and a Funny Song Story

1. My Mandarin teacher is from Taiwan, which means I am learning some of the cultural differences of how Mandarin is spoken on the Mainland vs. Taiwan. For example, where I lived, every baby was called ‘erzi’ (boy child) regardless of gender. In fact, when I tried to use the gender neutral ‘haizi’, I was corrected to just use erzi. So yesterday in class I had to use the word ‘child’ and I said ‘erzi’ as I had been taught. My teacher said, “No, that means boy, use ‘haizi.’” I said, “That’s interesting. I was corrected to say erzi where I lived.” My teacher, knowing I lived on the Mainland: “Yeah…I don’t like that.” It was a private, friendly exchange between me and my teacher, but it was one example of the way in which language can reflect culture. (I don’t need to go into details, do I?)

2. I’ve been watching a lot of rerun tv (Seinfeld: still funny!), and hence watching a lot of advertisements, something new again to me. And I’ve realized over the past two years that if I really need something, I’ll find it. Advertisements aren’t really necessary. Somehow, every product I actually NEED occurs to me all on my own. Amazing!

3. Since a few of you said you liked the song tradition, here is another little example of it, as well as an example of the cultural conflict that sometimes happened to us.

When T., V. and others did their summer teaching project in a little city a couple of hours away, I went to visit. When I was leaving to come back home, I decided to walk to the tiny long distance bus station instead of taking a taxi because it was only a mile or two away. The teachers they were training were treating them to dinner that night, but T. skipped the beginning of dinner to walk me to the bus station, and a couple of the teachers came with us to make sure we found it okay. We got there and my bus was leaving in ten minutes, so we started saying goodbye and the teachers were APPALLED that he was going to leave before my bus left the station. They kept saying, “Stay with her! Stay with her!” And of course I’m saying,”No, go to the dinner! We’re leaving in ten minutes, it’s no big deal!” We tried to explain it was no big deal for him to leave, but oh, these ladies were not having it. We finally convinced them, but when he got to the door, he turned back around and mouthed to me,”Are we okay?? I don’t know what to do here!”” I mouthed back, “Yes! Yes! GO! It’s fine!” It was sometimes really easy for us to get caught between what was culturally expected vs. what was comfortable for us.

The funny thing was, when they came back from the teaching project, some teachers sent a little Buddhist necklace as a gift for me, which was incredibly thoughtful and generous and kind and so indicative of how the Chinese are. But I also wondered if they did it as a sort of consolation, because in their eyes I didn’t get songed properly and was instead ‘deserted’ at the bus station. So now when I wear the necklace, it’s a cute reminder of that cultural moment in the bus station.

Stress, Insecurity and Awkwardness: This Too Shall Pass?

It is harder to adjust to coming home than I imagined. A few things:

1. Reacclimating to American culture is stressful, because I don't always know how to act. And the cultural diversity I love so much (and missed so much) is unexpectedly stressful to deal with. R. and I have had some conversations about this and luckily I'm not just weird, it's hard for her too. It's comforting to know it's common, but still: it sucks. I'll write about some specific things when I have a chance.

2. I still dream every night I'm in China. My brain hasn't caught up with the fact I'm not going back to China. When this finally sinks in, I expect to have a little meltdown about it.

3. I'm on the road right now visiting friends out of state. I really needed this. Pardon my silence.

4. Some American friends I made in China have been very easy and natural to keep in touch with. Others have not. And without saying too much publicly, these categories are not populated exactly as I expected. I find it awkward and unsure to communicate right now with someone who was a really, really close friend in China. I didn't expect this, and it hurts.

5. I find it difficult right now to write about my experiences. Memories flood my brain constantly, but putting them down in writing eludes me right now. I need to give myself time and space to process what is happening, I suppose. So I'm trying to let myself do that.

6. One really good thing: I had a family reunion last week and it was wonderful to reunite with beloved cousins. It was also really nice to be with people who knew my dad. I love hearing my cousins (who are nearer to my dad's age than mine) talk about him. They knew him in a way I never will. And when I talk about him, they know exactly what I mean. It was comforting.

Home Is Where The Paper Plates Are

I made my way back to the USA this past weekend; I didn’t go straight to America after leaving Chongqing, but had a great final week with friends. I cried A LOT. Some people got the brunt of this, and because they are of the man variety, I feel a little bad. But the tears were in part because I would miss them so much, so hopefully they at least felt flattered I cared so much. 

Reverse culture shock? Yes, absolutely a real thing. Not just for me, but for my family having to deal with me. I’m sure at times they are thinking,”Who ARE you now?” It’s the little things here driving me crazy: personal distance, driving with RULES, small talk, concepts of time, American germaphobia, and the utter lack of people everywhere I go. I feel like I’ve survived a plague. Don’t get me wrong, it’s wonderful to have so much calmness around me, but it’s also really weird. I feel really socially awkward right now. I’m pretty sure I’ve been rude to a few people because I got all Chinese on them in the store. But hey, when it’s your turn next in line at the cashier, go! 

(Things I love about America: access to any internet site I want, clean food I don’t have to scrub before eating (although I keep forgetting and scrub it anyway), and unlimited corn tortillas and salsa in my belly. Yum.)

I’m staying with my mom temporarily. This morning I used a waxed paper plate for my breakfast and it was only a little dirty, so I told her not to throw it out and I’d use it again later in the day. A few minutes later she came over to where I was sitting: “You’re not in China anymore, you can have a new paper plate whenever you want it.” Me: “But I don’t need a new one, it’s still useable!”

To my mom’s credit, she didn’t throw it away. But I know she doesn’t understand why I’m hanging onto a paper plate.

I’m about 72 hours stateside; jet lag is a pain! Thank goodness for bad TV at 3 AM.

Three Little Words, Two Words For You, One Word For Me

From Robert Frost:

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on."

In a few hours I leave Chongqing for good. (I'm not leaving alone; I have an understanding shoulder to cry on as we pull away from the city, should the need arise.) I'm embracing Robert Frost's words today.

To all of you who have been faithful supporters of me the last two years: THANK YOU! I could not, and I mean this literally, could not have done it without you. I can't express adequately the love and admiration I have in my heart for you.

And one word for me: love. In the last few years, I've learned that in the end, it really, truly is only love that matters. Most of all, I take home with me a lot of love, and for that, I am grateful.

This blog is not over! I have so many more things to share about my experience in China, things I am too overwhelmed now to write about with any sense of eloquence. But as soon I am settled at home and more or less awake, I'll resume posting and reading.

As we say here: 再见！

New Dress, Special Gift, and Buddhist Mountain Friends

I decided to have a traditional, formal qipao made for me before I left China. It's black with gold dragons, and ankle length. I picked out the fabric and the style and a local tailor made it:

And here it is from behind. See what I told you about my butt?? Oh well, I'll soon be leaving you behind, Chinese stairs:

The teacher at my school assigned to help me the last two years also became my friend. His father and grandfather survived the Cultural Revolution and have a collection of Chairman Mao pins from that era. It was important to show your allegiance to Chairman Mao, and one way to do that was to wear these pins. He gave me a pin from his family's collection as a going away gift; I was incredibly humbled by his generosity at giving me part of his family's history. I will treasure it always.

I went to a Unesco World Heritage Buddhist mountain site near my city. It was a very Chinese adventure! It took me 3 buses to get to the mountain top, and I was 'adopted' by an old man who was fascinated with talking to a foreigner; he even got on the mountain bus so he could keep talking to me, but the other people on the bus kicked him off so he'd leave me alone. It was such a Chinese thing, and something that would have freaked me out two years ago, but now was just what happens here. The old man turned me over to the care of the young guy in this picture, a random guy from Beijing who didn't speak English but spoke really good Mandarin (as they do in Beijing) and was backpacking across China. He was really cool! The two ladies are English teachers from a city southwest of me called Kunming and they approached me because I speak English. (Do you see how HUGE I am compared to Chinese ladies? No wonder I now have body dysmorphia from living in China.) They were so nice, and we all became mountain friends. Thus is the magic of the Buddhist mountain.

A few pictures of the mountain carvings:

My Favorite "Guess Where I'm Calling You From?" So Far

R. went to Tibet last week, and earlier this week I got a phone call from her: "Guess where I'm calling you from? Mt. Everest!" She was at Everest Base Camp, and China Mobile has a cell tower there. Now I can leave China with every experience complete.

(Have I mentioned I dread having to navigate American cell service again? I heart China Mobile.)

She came back to Chongqing for one day on her way to America, and as promised, we didn't say "goodbye"; instead, I stood next to the van taking her to the airport and bawled. It was really hard to see her go. Too many goodbyes these days! It's draining me. I cry a little bit, over something, literally everyday. I'm just exhausted. Sooo not ready for any more goodbyes, and I have some really difficult ones coming up. I have one more week in my city, then I go back to headquarters for a few days before I fly out. I need to make sure I stay really hydrated! 

I went to a Buddhist mountain this week. It was a really neat experience. I'll be writing more about it when the weekend is over. I need to download my photos from my camera, but I am just too tired to do it today. 

Back to packing. 

Smiles and Tears: My Last Two Weeks, Plus A New Video

I'm home from my trip, and it was legendary! I wish I could get more into it now, but it will need to wait a few weeks.

I'm fluctuating between being really excited to spend time in America with my friends and family and Target and lots of tacos, and emotional upheaval at leaving this place that has become my home, and the people who have become some of my closest friends and loved ones. Why do we do this to ourselves? I'm sort of on the verge of tears all the time. I don't want to leave. I don't know how to be an American right now. I'm afraid of not fitting in there anymore. I know it'll come back to me, but I'm as nervous about going back to America as I was to come to China. Human beings are funny.

So I hope you will bear with me the next few weeks. I have so many more things to say about China, I hope you'll keep reading for a while!

Today I made this video. Some of these pictures you have seen, some will be new. It's a nice time capsule of the people I've grown to love here in China. I hope you enjoy it. If the embed isn't working, you can click here to see it.

My Buddhist Scroll and Other Weekend Pics

In the past I've only purchased souvenirs for friends and family, so this weekend I splurged a bit and bought something for myself. I need something to remember China by, right? I found this beautiful Buddhist icon fabric wall scroll, and I couldn't resist. I'm so happy to have this to bring home with me. It's just perfect for me.

Just for comparison's sake, this scroll cost the equivalent of $40 USD. I have no idea what something like this would cost in America, but I am guessing more than $40. This scroll and really good oolong tea will be my two splurges to bring back with me to America.

J. came down for the weekend, so we had a little get together last night with friends. Bugles on the fingertips never stops being funny, right? (My hand-- I'm silly, I know.)

And here is what we had for lunch yesterday, a Uyghur dish called Chao Mian Pian 炒面片. It's a tomato based spicy sauce, with freshly made noodles, tomato, green pepper, onion, cabbage and beef chunks. Soooo delicious. (It doesn't taste like Italian food at all, the spices are different.) I had no idea Uyghur food existed before I came to China, but it is now some of my favorite Chinese food. I gotta find a Uyghur restaurant in America, I can't go a lifetime without it! (Uyghurs are a Turk ethnic group in China, and many are from XinJiang province in Northwestern China. The Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon desert scenes were filmed in XinJiang. It's beautiful up there.)

I Don’t Have TB! And Other Exciting Recent Events

Wow, time flies!

E. came down for a few days, and then I had to go to Chengdu for my end-of-service-very-thorough medical examination. It lasts a few days, and we get tested for communicable diseases and whatnot; I check out okay on all fronts, yay! And blood pressure 114/78, bring on the salt!

We have our parasite test the day before we leave, and I don’t think you want to know the details of how that is done. But, I hope to also be parasite free, cross your fingers for me.

Last Tuesday night we had girl’s night at the movies and saw Prince of Persia. Definitely China-good, meaning, only good because we are living in China and need the American eye-candy. My Chinese friend Summer came with us and she liked it a lot, for the same reason we did. Hotness is the universal language, y’all.

I got in late last night and had to teach early this morning as a make-up for the days off I get next week for Dragon Boat Festival. Tonight we are watching the U.S./Britain soccer game at 2:15 AM, and then the beginning of the week we’ll head to a river city nearby to watch the boat races. So, another busy week on the menu.

I feel like I’m on one of those centrifugal force amusement park rides, and it’s going faster and faster, and it won’t stop until it flings me out of China back to America. I might be sick before this is all over.

Btw, I’ve already established a ‘No Goodbye’ list: those few people here I can’t bear to say goodbye to, so I’ve already told them I won’t be saying goodbye; we’ll just be meeting up again in the U.S. after a short separation. It’s the only way I can bear it.

What Happens When You Make The Silliest Decision Ever?

I've been reflecting on my close-to-two years I've spent in China. How have I changed? How have I NOT changed? What have I learned? That sort of boring thing.

And I've mentioned this before, but it's been a stronger feeling for me now: this is probably the silliest thing I've ever done. There is nothing wrong with Peace Corps, or China; they are both worth experiencing. But ME in Peace Corps China? On paper: ridiculous.

I read a good book about grief after my dad died. It said you shouldn't make any major life decisions for at least one year, because basically you are too sad to look at anything objectively in your right mind. I applied for Peace Corps weeks after my dad died. It was just something I always wanted to do, and maybe I felt like life is short and fragile? So, yeah. That's how I ended up here.

I had my education completed, a good job with opportunities, a super cute apartment I still miss and feel sad I don't live in now (click here for pics!), and a good life in America. My friends have houses and/or children and are responsible, fun adults. I didn't have the house or kids, but I was slowly being indoctrinated (haha, kind of). My friends? Super supportive. Pretty openly thought I was mad for walking away from so many things and doing this, but super supportive. I could not have done it without them. But still...what was I thinking?

And I mention this because even though it was probably one of the silliest decisions of my life, these things have a way of working out for our benefit. I am intensely, intensely grateful for this experience. I had a chance to take a step back, take stock of my life, look at where I was going and where I want to be, and see more clearly my faults, my strengths, my blessings and gifts. Things in my future will be different because I did this silly thing. (I am not being facetious when I say silly. It was in fact silly!) And because I truly believe in the value of telling kids that what they can achieve matters. I had teachers who did this for me, and it's an honor to be able to give back.

I mention it out loud, in writing, for those of you who might not know where your decisions will lead you, and worry about that. And I'm here to say: make all the "right" or "wrong" decisions you might make, and if you want to find the good in life, you will be lead to find it, no matter what. I really believe it. Now, moreso than ever.

On a housekeeping note, I have about 70 days left here in China. I fear a lot of what I am going through right as I prepare to leave will be boring to read about (philosophical or administrative), so I will be posting less. But, still posting. I fly home August 7th (!!!).

Slumber Party Weekend, Plus the Awesomeness of Pulled Noodles

This weekend our Peace Corps regional director came to Chongqing in anticipation of the big meetings going on this week in Beijing, so several volunteers from nearby areas came into town to have dinner with him. A few of them crashed at my place. I'm not a woo girl, but, WOO, so much fun! It was just one big slumber party, and I love playing hostess, so I had a great time having them here.

Saturday lunch we went for noodles. I don't think I've posted pictures before of how delicious pulled noodles here are, so here goes. First, the cook prepares the noodles by pulling the freshly made dough like taffy, pounding it down, then pulling again and again until it strings up into noodles. It's magical. Here are a few pictures (notice the tables and chairs--these places are very casual):

And a close up of the dough-- he's smiling because he's shy:

The noodles are put into big pots of boiling water standing by:

And then the freshly boiled noodles are added to a bowl of beef broth, spicy oil, beef chunks, onion and cilantro:

Not very healthy, but delicious!

Washington Heights, Luggage, Etiquette and Friendship

During our trip I found out my friend J. is going to Columbia in the fall to do a masters program, and asked me if I were interested in being roommates. Hells to the yes! J. is great, she is one of the nicest girls I know. I told her about Washington Heights*, which is where my cousin lived when he went to Columbia, and so we are officially putting WH on the table as a possible apartment location. Now, I have no idea if this will work out, or if I’ll be able to find a job in the area, but it’s fun to dream about. I have long loved Washington Heights, and even for just a year or two, would love the experience of living there. We agree living in China is great preparation for living everywhere else, because we have learned to live with so little. A crappy little apartment in Washington Heights? No problem. A couple of other people I know here are also going to NYC for work/school, so I would have some friends in the area as well. And we could go to Chinatown together and relive our crazy China days.

Two of my four-wheeled luggage wheels broke. Luckily they didn’t break completely off, but they wouldn’t spin properly and were all banged up. (Note to self: stop dragging the suitcase over curbs and stairs— pick it up!) When we got out of the taxi at the hostel, the owner greeted us and noticed my luggage wasn’t rolling properly. He offered to have it fixed for me, and the next day found new wheels for my luggage AND had his handyman repair the luggage for me. And he wouldn’t take any money from me at all for it. There are just good people in the world. (I bought him a nice bottle of liquor as a thank you gift when I left.)

I was reflecting on this trip about my friendship with E., which was near instantaneous and is a delightful part of my life here. She doesn’t live in my city so I don’t get to see her often, but I just admire and respect her and have so much fun with her. It was a treat being able to see her for a whole week. It’s amazing to meet people you feel like you’ve known for years. They are a gift. I’ve had the chance to make some really good friends like this in the Peace Corps, and it’s one thing I’ll take away as a lifelong blessing.

Thus ends this All In Rebecca’s Head post.

*A neighborhood in northern Manhattan, around 181st street.