Vacation in Dali

Summer camp is over, but before me and three of the other teachers were off to our vacation in Dali, we had to drop the kids off at the airport to go home, so we got to check out Kunming’s brand new airport. We almost didn’t get to go because of a new rule that only children under 16 can bring children. But, 800 yuan and one bribe later, everything worked out and the kids were on their way.

Here’s a photo of all the students on the last day. The ride into Kunming takes about three hours with beautiful mountain scenery along the way.

We were so blessed to be able to stay with my friends in Kunming who also gave us some great advice about where to go in Dali. Here’s Jason’s map.

Dali is a

Sweet tooth

The One and Only

A group of old men sit and chat on a bench near a Huize stree

If you ever want to feel like a celebrity, just come visit me in rural China. When I’m walking down the street, people openly stare and point. I hear “wai guo ren” (foreigner) and “mei guo ren” (American) and even the more derogatory “lao wai” (old foreigner) whispered as I pass by or shouted as children follow me from store to store. Strangers sometimes yell, “Hi!” and “Hello!” — probably the only English words they know.

Not all of China is like this. In big cities like Beijing and Shanghai, foreigners are common and may not even get a second glance. But here in Huize, in the mountains of Yunnan, it’s a different story.  I’m not just the only foreigner here, for some I’m the only foreigner they have ever seen. Of course David is also an American, but he was born in China, so he doesn’t stand out as much as I do.

One day, while one of the teachers and I were walking on Old Street, a couple stopped us to ask if I would give their child an English name. Here’s a picture of me with newly-named baby Joy and her parents.

Little Joy doesn’t look very happy here, but I’m sure she’ll grow into her name.

Even today, as I was going out to lunch with some of the teachers, a man riding a scooter spotted me and put on his brakes. Twenty yards down the road he turned around to stare. Two more of his friends riding another scooter stopped to join him — right in the middle of the street. I literally stop traffic. Even though Huize is much larger than the village of Nagu, many people in Huize seem genuinely surprised to see me. I go into a store or turn the corner and someone is looking up at me as if I were a ghost.

The attention really  is overwhelmingly positive, and most of the time I get a good laugh out of it. But I didn’t realize how much it has affected me until one day last week when I was walking past a herd of sheep and goats grazing on a patch of undeveloped land. As I got closer I thought, “Something is wrong about these goats.” My mind expected the them to act like all the groups of people I’ve seen the last month. Perhaps one would be brave enough to shuffle up and say, “baaaa.” A few might stare openly, with grass hanging out of their mouths. Some would squint and glare at me with suspicion while the rest tried to sneak peeks between bites.

But today their attention stayed focused on the grass and my alien presence went unnoticed. To the people of Huize, I may be a “wai guo ren,” but to the sheep of Huize, I’m just another boring human. Thank goodness.

Learning to eat Lychee

The first time I tried Lychee (lizhi), people laughed at me. One of the teachers took me to buy some fresh fruit in Nagu during my first week at the school. I bought some bananas and decided to try Lychee, a Chinese fruit I had heard so much about. While she was finishing the negotiation for a bag of the red fruit (12 yuan or $1.88), they offered for me to sample one before we sealed the deal. Now? I know I’m really supposed to peel fruit, or at least wash it, I thought. But they were waiting for me and there wasn’t any way out of it. So without wasting any time, I bit into the red, bumpy skin.

Right away I knew something was wrong. The teacher and the fruit woman stopped haggling and looked at me in horror and the outer skin was much rougher than I expected. “No, no, no,” they told me. “You’re supposed to peel it before you eat it.” And then we all laughed. By the end of the afternoon I’m sure every person in Nagu had heard the story of the foreigner who didn’t know how to eat Lychee.

Since then it has become one of my favorite treats. Here are some photos from one afternoon when the school bought a big crate of Lychee and grapes for the students.

The students who are really good can pop open the outer shell with one hand and eat the fruit in one bite.

The white fruit inside is sweet and very sticky.

And don’t forget to spit out the seed!

China Birthday

When my birthday arrived on Saturday, I was still a little concerned that I might have to wear the pregnancy pack, but I had nothing to worry about. The kids threw me an amazing surprise party! A dear friend of mine emailed the school to tell them it was my birthday, and I knew they were planning something because all week they were sneaking around and whispering. They really shouldn’t have bothered — my Chinese isn’t good enough for eavesdropping yet.

There are no classes Saturday afternoon, so we had planned to make jiao zi, or dumplings. When I arrived at the school Uncle Tian (our driver/handyman) was outside the door with a video camera on his shoulder pointed at me and I could see some of the kids peeking out the windows of the top floor. Clearly something was up. Inside there was a sign leading me up the stairs to the second floor. At the top of the stairs was an egg that read, “break me.” As I was busy looking for what was inside the egg, two students jumped out and ambushed me with confetti and silly string! Next we went up to the third floor and I was met with, you guessed it, more silly string. They gave me a special birthday hat and sparkly scarf to wear during a performance of dances and songs they had prepared. We heard everything from a funny Chinese song and Justin Beiber to a rendition of Hotel California.

Birthday decorations on the stairs.

And when I got to the top, Lucky was waiting for me with silly string.

The next phase of the party was a scavenger hunt around the school with four clues leading to four hidden presents. I think my favorite was a bracelet with three charms — one for each of the characters in my Chinese name. And then, what really surprised me is they brought out a cake! A beautiful, delicious cake.

And finally we made dumplings! Jiao zi is one of my favorite things to eat in China, so it was great to see it made from start to finish. Originally we planned on buying the dough from the store for convenience, but Granny and Grandpa (Ms. Liu’s parents) said home-made dough would be better. They’re from northern China where they eat jiao zi year-round, so they know what they’re talking about.

Grandpa rolling out balls of dough.

From the moment I arrived at my party the students kept bringing me presents. When I thought everyone in the school had given me at least one card, they brought even more. The best thing about these homemade cards was the effort and the detail put into them. Cards with pop-up birthday cakes and little secret pockets with extra birthday wishes. Not to mention my other gifts, which included two penny banks (one in the shape of a paper mache rocket), an egg bobble head, and a paper balloon. I also received some very nice gifts from the teachers and older students: a fan, two wooden brushes, a keychain and a lovely bookmark.

Three of the older girls made this for me. It took them hours to fold all the paper stars, hearts and cranes. They also made the box.

The principal and his wife gave me these beautiful flowers along with some Chinese tea.

The boys made me some special versions of their favorite toy, which they use by trying to hit the others across the room.

A Night Out in Nagu

This night I went for a walk around Nagu with two of the teachers of Today School, Lisa and Ms. Song. Lisa has shown me the ropes since my first day and she’s made sure I have everything I need. We’ve already shared quite a few good laughs. Ms. Song is the head administrator for the school — and she’s going to have a baby any day now! So exciting! The three of us usually sit at the same table for our meals and Ms. Song tries to practice English as I learn Chinese. When we get stuck (or lazy), Lisa translates for us.

It takes about ten minutes to walk from the school to downtown Nagu and along the way I learn a little more about the town. Many people work here because of a nearby hydroelectric dam. Years ago they lived here too, but now many choose to commute from the larger city of Huize. Lisa shows me an old movie theater and a group of vacant houses where company employees used to live.

One of my favorite things about China is that every evening people come out to a central square and dance. Groups of older women, or “aunties,” gather in groups as few as six to more than 100. They perform choreographed dances to a mix of upbeat Chinese and Latin music.

If you need to get a copy of a key in Nagu, meet the locksmith. His little stand is located just outside the marketplace.

Some of the paths near Nagu lead directly into the nearby mountains. Even though this painted advertisement seems hidden, Lisa tells me that on market days people come down from the mountains using these paths. And even they buy cell phones.

My First Kung Fu Lesson

Before I came to Jin Ri School, I had heard stories about the principal, Mr. Zhang. He may have learned kung fu from monks in the mountains. His translations of Daoist texts are supposed to be inspired — even better than the work of top scholars. There’s a kind of reverence and respect for him shared by both teachers and students — and much of that comes from his ability to teach and perform martial arts. On this day I had the opportunity to be part of a kung fu lesson for the class of older girls.

The lesson takes place in the central plaza of Huize, where a giant replica of a coin commemorates the city’s role as copper mining town centuries ago.

We start with an exercise where two people circle each other, looking for opportunities to strike. The goal is not merely to get a hit, but to disable your opponent, or “break the center.” In each attack, there’s a balance of yin and yang. As one hand goes up, the other goes down.

In many ways it is very much like dancing. There’s just enough tension in our arms so that as I step, he moves too. Not enough pressure and his arm goes straight to my neck, but with too much he uses my momentum against me to attack from the other side. 

And before I know it, Mr. Zhang’s hand is around my neck and I’m off my feet. “It’s just like the tango,” he says. Step, step, turn — and I’m pulled back with his one hand on my chin exposing my neck as the other has stretched back my right arm. Whether a dip or a headlock, it’s a moment of vulnerable suspension.

As I practice with one of the teachers, I begin to understand how my body should move. Before flailing my arm to reach her neck, I need to move my body behind hers. So move faster. “Not faster,” Mr. Zhang tells me. “Just like water.” He certainly seems to move like water — here one moment, but gone the next. 

Here Mr. Zhang practices with his wife, Ms. Liu. They move around in a circle like this . . .

and this . . .

 . . . until he strikes. Most of the time he can’t help but laugh because he’s so amused by own your surprise at being suddenly upside down. It’s like a parent playing with a child. Of course the child has no chance, but it’s still fun.

At the end of our lesson, Mr. Zhang tells me that after a year of learning kung fu I won’t have to worry about being attacked by scary men in dark alleys. I hope this gives my mother a little peace of mind. According to him, girls learn kung fu more easily because they don’t over-rely on strength. It’s about being smart, efficient, and even gentle. 

 

The Birthday Present You Don’t Want

Here at Jin Ri School they have a birthday tradition. No, students don’t get balloons or a cake or even a song. On their special day, each student walks around all day wearing a weighted backpack on their chest as if they were a pregnant woman. And just to be clear, I’ve never heard of this practice before and it seems to be original to this school. The idea is to experience a little piece of what their mothers went through to bring them into the world. An egg is tied to book bag and for 24 hours — including sleep — their goal is to protect the egg. If it breaks, they have to start over.

This is Peter on his birthday. When I saw him in class in the morning, I just thought he was being silly and wanted to wear his backpack in front. For the rest of the day he ran around with his baby bump, a little behind the other kids as he waddled up the stairs (the egg is in the red bag at the top). It’s cruel, sad and hilarious all at the same time. Understanding the labor of love that is pregnancy is one thing, but on your birthday? That just seems unfair. A child’s birthday is supposed to be a fun and sugar-filled celebration of life.

All this talk of maternal sacrifice reminded me of a conversation I had with one of my Chinese friends about the difference between giving birth in the U.S. and China. In China, as well as many other cultures, new mothers stay at home and are cared for by relatives for a 30-day confinement period. They don’t leave the house, clean or cook. Family members visit and bring special foods for the woman while she rests. But in the U.S., it’s all about the baby. When people visit in the hospital they bring “It’s a boy!” and “It’s a girl!” balloons or blankets or diapers, but no special gifts for mom.  Women usually resume normal activities relatively soon. I found this fascinating article written by a Korean-born nurse about her experience giving birth in the U.S.

So, even if this is not a traditional Chinese birthday celebration, it does give a little insight to the Chinese understanding of birth itself. All the same, I don’t think I’ll be mentioning my own birthday, three days from now.

Doctors and Calligraphy

 

On Saturday the students go outside the school for outings and adventures. Sometimes they camp on one of the nearby mountains or go into the city. This Saturday, I went with a class of the older girls to a calligraphy lesson in Huize. The ground floor of the townhouse was furnished with two pingpong tables and a few armchairs. The master, a man named Mr. Yu, smoked out of a water pipe.

The girls settled down around the tables to begin their practice as they imitated the characters Mr. Xho had demonstrated on graph paper. As if I needed another reason to fail at this art, I naturally use the wrong hand. I learned this the first time I came to China during a bamboo painting lesson when the teacher snatched the brush out of my left hand and put it into my right. This time I guiltily switched between right and left only to find that the results were equally bad. “To control the brush you must have inner peace,” I am told.

 

In the middle of the lesson one of the teachers and a student, Daphne, and I went across the street to visit a Chinese doctor. Daphne is the 13-year-old daughter of the principal and she learns traditional Chinese medicine when she can from a Chinese doctor named Ms. Duan. Although she lives in Nagu, Ms. Duan is also in Huize to treat a patient today and we have been invited to observe. I am told she is particularly good at setting breaks, even managing to piece together shattered bones without the help of x-rays.

When we arrived at the townhouse, Ms. Duan and the patient, a teenage boy, were already seated on the couch with concerned family members crowded around. She let Daphne feel the boy’s exposed back and asked her opinion. It is not bruised, but something in the lower back is sticking out slightly.

It’s difficult for the students and even the teachers to talk with me about Chinese medicine. There are so many body parts to translate and plants and medicines that don’t even have English names. Beyond that, Chinese medicine is based a completely different understanding of the world. I’ve barely begun to understand the concepts yin and yang, so I’m not very clear about how they affect my liver. But this time we have the use of a Chinese dictionary and finally translate the word we’re looking for: cartilage. Cartilage is sticking out of his back.

To move the “cartilage” back in place Ms. Duan and another man helped him stand up. They rocked him back and forth by the shoulders and hips. After they sat him back down on the couch, he seemed light-headed and even faint. Ms. Duan gave him water mixed with a white powder to drink. She explained his faintness was a side effect of moving the cartilage back into place. It was as if she unblocked a pipe and too much blood rushed to his head.

After the young man was bandaged up and ready to go, we returned to catch the end of the calligraphy lesson. It’s the last lesson of the regular school year and the girls will not return until the fall. Mr. Yu graciously painted something just for me — the first line of the Dao De Jing. Then we all go to lunch at a nearby restaurant.

By far the best thing about this lunch was the girls’ reaction to a dish of raw salmon. The students sat at one table while the adult table included the teachers and a few friends from Huize. Both tables were served with a dish of pink salmon slices on ice. At first the girls hardly touched the salmon, but mid-way through the meal the principal came over and told them he expected them to eat it all. This was a very expensive dish, he said, and it was important that they be exposed to new things, whether they liked it or not. And so began Wheel of Fortune, seafood edition. Many Chinese restaurants have a Lazy Susan on the table so dishes can rotate around the table. The girls decided that they would spin it and whoever landed closest to the fish would have to eat a piece before spinning again. Eventually it disappeared, but not without a number of giggles and groans from that side of the room.

After dinner we climbed a mountain called Golden Bell Mountain. The name comes from a legend that says nine dragons once terrorized this town, but a powerful king was able trap them under a huge golden bell which eventually became the mountain. It’s a local tourist site, with stone steps all the way up to a Daoist temple at the top. Along the way I was impressed by the way their teacher, Ms. Bai, allowed and even encouraged them to climb things. Instead of the expected, “Get off that, you could fall off and get hurt,” she took the time to let anyone who wanted to try climb some of the rock walls along the path.

After our climbing time, we took a walk down Old Street, where new shoe shops have taken over the old buildings of 50 or 60 years ago. The girls stood in line and ordered a drink that was described to me as “bean milk.” Oh, soy beans, soy milk. Not quite. Dried red beans and small round green beans or even corn are ground up in to a powder and mixed for a kind of warm, slightly sweet bean smoothie. I was not very optimistic about this, but it wasn’t bad at all.