Author: Anna Labat

Thanksgiving arrived soon after what was the third wedding I’d ever been to. However, Thursday passed unmarked by occasion. So I decided, since I had Friday afternoon off, and given the time difference, I would celebrate Thanksgiving in solidarity with America.

My Thanksgiving meal came courtesy of Dicos, a Chinese chicken chain. Now before you feel bad for me, all that food only cost me 11 dollars. Plus, I just sat in my apartment and watched Forrest Gump. Thus, the beginning of a new holiday tradition for me… Hanksgiving – where one eats fast food alone on what is technically Black Friday while enjoying perhaps our greatest national treasure, Tom Hanks.

Now that Thanksgiving was over, much as it occurs here in America, China began to ramp up for Christmas. I started seeing Christmas lights and plastic Santas, wreaths and holly, sleigh bells and reindeer… even in my lesson plans! The school apparently wanted me to integrate Christmas-themed vocabulary into my lessons: Santa Claus, Christmas tree, Christmas card, sleigh, reindeer, to name a few. My sing-along songs became Christmas carols and classic holiday anthems telling the stories of beloved holiday figures like Frosty and Rudolph and Bing Crosby.

In early December, I received word that some government representatives from the Ministry of Education would be stopping by to assess our school. Similar to America’s critically acclaimed “No Child Left Behind Act,” if we didn’t meet certain benchmarks, the government could pull funding or even shut down the entire school. Needless to say, we made it look good. Our tiny main office was somehow transformed into a luxurious conference room. Fresh fruit, exotic nuts, and trays of meat were laid out. The school was mopped from pillar to post. Bulletin boards displaying progress and comprehension materialized out of thin air. And despite pulling out all the stops, we didn’t consider, I don’t know… maybe a temporary ban on playground urination?

On a Saturday afternoon in early December, I volunteered to be one of the judges of an English final exam at a local elementary school. Students from grades 4 through 6 would come in one at a time and deliver an oral presentation and then respond to questions about a given topic from the other judges and myself and were then scored. I’ve gotta say, the way it was structured made it feel a little bit like American Idol and I was Simon Cowell… only nicer. I am tough but fair!

 

Thinking of gift ideas when you’re half a world away is tough. And with shipping costs what they are and the postal delivery system what it is, I decided to go with, shall we say, handmade gifts. I decided to use what I had at my disposal: adorable children with adorable broken English. So, in the weeks leading up to Christmas, I would set some time apart at the end of each class to record a message of me and the kids saying Merry Christmas for one of my family members. Now you might think, four classes a day, you can knock that out in two days. But that would be foolish. The mere act of getting a group of kids to sit still for 30 seconds is taxing. Even when they’ve been practicing the phrase “Merry Christmas” for weeks, having them be able to recite it on cue is asking a lot. And even though iPhones are universally popular and ubiquitous, having a Chinese teacher work the video on an iPhone requires several takes. I felt like I was directing a feature-length motion picture. But eventually, after two weeks and dozens of takes, I had a short, five-second video message for each of my family members and some other relatives.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I had been commissioned to contribute to an art mural proposed by the school’s art teacher. I am happy to report that I finally finished my section of the mural… just in time for Christmas. And of course the best work I have ever done would be in China when I’m not being graded where none of my former teachers would ever see it.

In all seriousness though, being able to leave something lasting and artful, something that cements my experience and presence in China, the culmination of months of focused work, was a wonderful souvenir, just not the kind you bring home.

Christmas Eve had finally arrived. And if you don’t count the dozen or so Christmas pageants I had previously starred in, this would mark the first time I would be working on both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. As our favorite holiday wet blanket Charlie Brown might say, “Rats.” You see, in China, similar to the U.S., the academic semester begins in late August or early September but instead of breaking before Christmas, they instead run through Christmas up until New Year’s Eve and then their holiday starts and goes until after Chinese New Year, often towards the end of January.

However, some festive cheer arrived in the Saint Nick of time in the form of a night out with some of the teachers singing karaoke. We had a holly jolly time and it was an incredible bookend to my experience with these teachers. Christmas had come but tragically, it was also my last day of classes. The stipulations of my visa were such that I needed to exit and re-enter the country every three months. And because of the timing of my visit to Hong Kong, I was required to leave China by January 1st. However, I did receive a nice consolation prize: I was going to be spending 11 days on a warm, gorgeous island in the Philippines. And after a month of freezing cold temperatures and dreary gray skies, it was exactly what the doctor ordered. More on that later. It was still Christmas, after all.

I learned that giving your teacher a small gift on Christmas was custom. I was hence the recipient of almost a bushel of apples and oranges, all individually wrapped in tissue paper or cute little boxes.

For my lessons, since it was my last day, I knew that I should probably do a review of all the vocabulary we had learned. But it’s Christmas, so I wrapped it up in a nice bow. I would pretend to sneak in the classroom as Santa Claus and deliver each student a card with a picture on it. I would then ask the student to say the word corresponding to the picture. Cap it off with a jolly “Ho ho ho,” a goodbye song to end the class, and we were all set. Then, around 5, I prepared for my last concert with the kids and their parents. I led the kids in Santa Claus Is Coming To Town, Little Snowflake, and despite not adhering to the theme, All Together Now… just for old time’s sake. I tried to say one last goodbye to as many of the students and teachers as I could, hopped on my bike, and rode off.

But that was not the end. As you know, I had been teaching every Friday at another school, Quanbei Shiyan Xiaoxue. The students had put together this holiday showcase of songs, dancing, and skits. And being the local rockstar that I was, I was asked to lead two songs: S-A-N-T-A (a variation on B-I-N-G-O) and Little Snowflake. The other performances were of course adorable and even when they fell apart, still totally adorable. It was nice for once to have the pressure off me and just get to watch and enjoy. At the end, the school’s art teacher presented me with a traditional Chinese scroll with the school’s name immaculately handwritten in Hanzi (characters). Even the box it came in was ornately beautiful.

But that was still not the end. One more holiday showcase to go, this one organized by my contact Tina for her son’s elementary school. My role was again slightly different this time: I was the host, the emcee, the Jerry Lewis. To top it off, I gave ‘em four songs, my longest concert yet. And these weren’t nursery rhymes or children’s songs, these were full-length holiday anthems. Again, besides my hosting and singing duties, the pressure was essentially off and I just got to watch as it devolved into an adorable train wreck. Afterward, I took a taxi over to Tianyi Cheng, just to walk around one last time, visit with the people, and do a little holiday shopping for my contacts.

The final few days were a blur as I tried to pack up everything in my apartment, make all my preparations for my train ride and flight, close out my bank account, and get around to doing everything on my Xingtai list. So many local restaurants I hadn’t tried! So many things I had yet to take a picture of!

But tonight, I ride the midnight train to Beijing. And tomorrow, I embark on my own Forgetting Sarah Marshall: two weeks by myself at a resort in the glorious Philippines. It’s “Forgetting Xingtai China.” Zaijian!

We come to it at last. January 24th, 2014 – almost two weeks since returning home to the states, almost four weeks since leaving China, and more than two months since my last blog post. Yikes. For those of you who have been with me since the beginning, all the way back to ‘Mr. Sutorius Goes To China’, I can’t begin to thank you enough for your support, your encouragement, and of course, your patience. What follows is the small reward I can give you: hopefully a nice, lengthy, detailed bookend to my adventures. I will of course offer my account of what it’s been like this past week, back in familiar territory. But I think I’ll begin where I left off: mid-November, 2013.

You never really know what to expect on any given day. You can walk into school Monday morning, thinking it’s a normal day like any other, until suddenly, you’re invited not only to attend, but to sing at, a Chinese wedding. The day of the wedding. That was my Monday. I came into the main office same as usual until my friend and fellow teacher Shao asked me if I would like to come to a wedding later that day during the lunch break. Taken aback? Sure, but I knew I had to seize this opportunity because of the experience and great story it’d make. At the time though, I wasn’t even informed who the wedding was for. So I teach my two morning classes, come back to the main office, and sitting there are two of my students dressed to the nines getting their make-up done. I assumed they had been chosen to be in the wedding party – a flower girl and ring bearer, perhaps. I knew I couldn’t let myself be outdone by a couple of kindergarteners, no matter how much adorable swag they have, so I told them I was going to quickly rush home and change.

Before I could take off though, they asked me if I would be willing to sing a song at the wedding. I mean, what do you say to that but “Absolutely, yes, of course!” So while rushing home, I thought what song should I sing, what would these people enjoy, more importantly, what did I know off the top of my head? Given the frequency of Top 40 music in China, I chose Bruno Mars’ “Marry You.” But then, I thought, I owe it to the wedding industry, to wedding bands and DJs everywhere, to musical integrity, to America itself, to introduce them to a classy standard. So I decided I would do two songs: Bruno Mars, and then hit ‘em with “The Way You Look Tonight,” courtesy of Ol’ Blue Eyes. I put on a pink shirt, grey slacks, and powder blue bow tie – which I later realized was a matching contrast of my little flower guy’s ensemble – and after a little grooming and a couple frantic run-throughs of the songs, I rode to the wedding, held at this restaurant a couple kilometers from my school. The restaurant had been retrofitted to resemble a banquet hall with a simple but elegant wedding altar.

Now, a wedding in Xingtai in the middle of November can get pretty cold especially when the door – like most doors in Xingtai – is nothing but a series of plastic hanging slats. I felt particularly bad for the bride, who had no choice but to grin and bear the cold in her dress, which was beautiful. Anyway, the wedding was soon underway, the pair walked down the aisle, exchanged their vows, invited the parents of the bride up to offer their blessing and give the traditional red envelope, and then, the reception banquet began. I’ll admit, even for a thespian such as myself, I had a couple butterflies in my basket, so I declined to eat until after my song was sung. Eventually, I was introduced and brought onstage. I did my little song and dance and then after, it was insisted that I be escorted around with the bride and groom to meet all the relatives and wedding guests, meaning I was the biggest third wheel you could ever aspire to be. Finally, after meeting the entire family and practically everyone at this wedding, I was allowed to sit down and enjoy some lunch with my fellow teachers who had come. Then, we returned to school for the afternoon classes and that was that! My career as a wedding singer had ended as suddenly as it began. But who knows? This is about the time when friends my age start getting married. Maybe I’ll bust out the Sinatra again someday.

Over the years, birthdays for me have become less and less significant. I’m perfectly happy to let a birthday pass unmarked; less fanfare and less celebration wouldn’t be missed by me. However, this year was certainly significant in one glaring way: it was the first birthday I would celebrate in a different country. It would also be the first birthday with zero of my family or friends. So no matter how it was spent, I was sure it would not simply go by inconspicuously. Even if nothing happened, it would still hold a special place for the mere reason of where I currently am in the world. Luckily for me, I do have friends here who would not allow just “nothing” to happen.

The story actually begins on Thursday, when a man came up to me; he told me that he works in my apartment building and though it took a while to interpret his meaning, I eventually learned that he works in the wedding planning business. (Spoiler alert: sad to say, this post does not end with me getting engaged.) Anyway, we exchanged numbers and on Saturday night, he invited me to his office/apartment which looks like a photo studio exploded with pink. There, I got to meet his fiancé – I should point out that this guy is my age, 24, while his fiancé is 19. Now, I may not be fluent in Mandarin, but I like to think I understand the words for numbers well enough. I don’t know, to each his own. Anyway, I quickly learned that the primary reason for inviting me was to grill me and find out the inside scoop on American wedding traditions and styles, to walk through the entire process from beginning to end. Now because I lack most of the necessary courtship-related vocabulary, I had to act out a lot of the steps in the process, e.g. the proposal, the ceremony, even the bachelor party. I basically danced the thread of an entire engagement in less than three minutes.

Anyway, he and his fiancé expressed a desire to be my “new best friends,” which I attribute almost completely to my exotic American nature… and obviously, my vast knowledge of the wedding industry.

Thankfully, that wasn’t the end of the night’s festivities. A couple of the teachers from my school rescued me – and they brought alcohol! We ended up drinking in one of Xingtai’s many public parks, which I was assured was fine. After we parted, I went back to my apartment until about 3 am, once I was sober again and feeling bored and impulsive. So I went for a bike ride around Xingtai. Don’t you fret none, parents and elderly relatives – I had maybe two beers so I was definitely sober by then. Plus, there was practically no one on the road at that time. And I don’t think the Chinese police give out BUIs – the driving is already erratic enough as it is. All joking aside, it was really quite a beautiful moment, all alone on the road. Freezing cold, but I felt that actually made it poetic, as the day I was born was a record cold day in Ohio. Plus, as fate would have it, my birthday fell on a full moon.

Later that morning, I grabbed lunch with two of my fellow teachers at this awesome Chinese barbecue place called Hao Jiu, Bu Jian, or Long Time, No See. Seriously, this place was wild; it was if the restaurant couldn’t decide on a unified theme. I’ll just let you see for yourself.

  

That’s right, an Indiana Jones temple-esque theme where the door is a hollowed-out redwood, an Arctic igloo theme with cave paintings, and what appears to be an old steam-powered locomotive (bearing a resemblance to, is that the Hogwarts Express?) repurposed so you can actually dine inside it. Don’t get me wrong, the food was good too: oysters, tons of different meats and vegetables cooked on rotating spits, actual bread. But I think that might have been the coolest restaurant I’ve ever eaten in.

     

 

Another part of the restaurant’s atmosphere I enjoyed was finally getting to hear some typical Chinese pop music. Up until now, most of the local music I had encountered was either engineered for children or mumbled snatches of tunes elderly men would sing from their bicycles. And wouldn’t you know it, they played Happy Birthday. But that didn’t strike me as divine providence – they play that in a lot of shops for some reason.

The afternoon continued with some very fun badminton at the gym and then, onto karaoke, where I got to witness more typical Chinese music, specifically, Chinese rap. Finally! And it didn’t disappoint. The best part was getting to witness one of my friends, this tiny, sweet, harmless girl, rap along in Chinese. As for my song selections, American choices were not limited per se, but more the pop classics that might make their way to China. That being said, I went with Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On, U2′s With Or Without You, The BeeGees’ I Started A Joke, and Michael Jackson’s Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough. Fans of the movie Rush Hour 2, hopefully your ears perked up at that last one because yes, that is exactly what Chris Tucker sings in a Hong Kong bar. The reaction was much the same as in the movie.

Ultimately, it was a fantastically fun weekend, more than I could’ve hoped for, like a highly-concentrated surge of activity in an otherwise doldrum town (no offense, Xingtai). And I still got a birthday cake out of it!

 

To close, thank you to those of you who sent birthday wishes.  And thank you for continuing to read my blog. That in itself is a wonderful birthday gift.

 

As it is November 4th, that puts me at exactly two months since leaving the states. And that milestone gave me special occasion to reflect and finally sit down to compose once again. I do apologize for the considerable lag time since my last post; I know certain people have been inquiring when the next one would be and knowing that my writing is appreciated makes me feel very honored. It’s not as if nothing significant or fresh has happened in the time between posts – new things, big and small, are happening all the time.

For a while though, I found myself falling into a routine, which can be viewed as both good and bad. Wake up, commute, teach in the morning, come home for lunch, go back for afternoon classes, come home for dinner, and repeat the next day. On the weekends, I would finally have the chance to sleep in a little, catch up on correspondence and news, hopefully have a video chat with the parents, and maybe get out and explore the city on my bike. This illusion of routine with long gaps devoid of exploration or travel made it seem like I could’ve been teaching for years and the lack of constant exposure to new experiences made it seem like I could’ve been teaching anywhere, that China, as a component of the experience, didn’t matter.

I promise this won’t all be boring pontification. In the time since my last update, I have started guest-teaching every Friday at another school. I have so far taught classes for the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th grades, really getting a taste for what teaching other age levels could be like. (Side note: don’t wish to speak for anyone else who’s a teacher, but a class of 50 6th graders seemed to be much easier to handle than a class of 15 kindergarteners. Thoughts, Tessa?) To be quite honest, I really like the school, the teachers, the students, everything about the experience has been very welcoming and positive. Maybe it’s a rotating role, but the school has these assigned ambassadors who wear a bright red sash and are responsible for welcoming guests such as myself to the school. The students’ English is excellent, so much so it makes me question the adults’ competency level. I’ve found at both schools faculty and staff whose English is poorer than the students or those who barely speak any English at all. Welp, the children are our future, I suppose.

One Friday afternoon at this new school, I was invited to participate in an Olympic-type decathlon the school holds every month called Sport Day. Everyone participates, from the tiniest kindergartener to the headmaster herself, a frail old woman at that. And when I wasn’t competing, I was beating the kids off me with a stick, so interested in my background were they. Now I don’t want to brag, but I won the gold in each of my events. Hey, somebody had to represent the U.S. at these games. I did try to make it close when I was competing against the kids, I’m not a monster. Anyway, the whole afternoon was very fun and relaxed and I got to share my story with a group of very nice, friendly kids.

Maybe it’s because I mostly deal with kindergarteners who often have their finger up their nose, but these elementary school students were very clever. They’re reading full English sentences from a book, they have a wider vocabulary than I do in Mandarin, they’re able to focus and take direction, and they’ve yet to lose the enthusiasm and yearning exhibited by my kindergarteners. While some of them might be shy and hesitant to raise their hand and participate, there are plenty of the clear standout pupils every teacher wants who chase every hands-on opportunity, the active participants, the volunteers. And to my knowledge, they arrived at this point without an English native teacher. It inspires confidence and makes me wonder how far my kindergarteners will go.

Back at my other school, I have recently been tasked with a public works project. When they found out that drawing used to be quite a hobby of mine, they asked if I would assist their art teacher with a mural in my downtime between classes. I have an hour each day after my last class and before the end-of-the-day concert, which I used to fill by going down to an empty classroom and practicing the piano. Now, every day, I steadily add to this mural on the first floor:

Now, the idea and initial sketch were not my own but I was responsible for at least this wall. When the whole thing is finished, this entire lobby will be painted. I’m actually kinda proud of it and it has an element of permanence. Like the school pictures, it’ll still be here long after I’m gone, proof that Jin Jieke was here.

Hopefully another piece of my legacy will be the legendary lessons I taught on Thursday. As Halloween isn’t widely celebrated in China and American candy options are few and far between, I thought I would integrate at least one aspect of the holiday into my lessons. So, for the classes held on Thursday, I had the students trick or treat “around the neighborhood” at the other classrooms but instead of receiving candy, they would receive one vocabulary word from each “house”. Obviously they didn’t have access to any costumes but boy, do they love screaming “trick or treat!”

As I mentioned earlier, sometimes on the weekend, I’ll go out on my bike and just explore the town. For instance, I had no idea until I decided to venture beyond my commute route that I literally live on the edge of town. Where I live, Wanchengxin Tiandi, is a huge shopping plaza with plenty of restaurants and stores. It’s not the cleanest place but it’s commercial and it’s developed. However, if you drive maybe two kilometers past my apartment, you’ll find yourself in the slum neighborhoods.

If you notice, the rose bushes lining both sides of the street are nicely trimmed and clearly well-kept despite being in frame with run-down shanties and houses with significant pieces of brick wall missing. A few houses down from this photo, a young teenage girl was handling a metal grinder and an acetylene torch. By herself. Stark differences separated by less than a mile, two parts of town that have nothing in common, that seem to be two different worlds. Yes, Xingtai is an industrial town populated by the low to lower middle class but an outsider like me can scarcely hope to touch the surface of the income disparity issue. Something I’ve noticed every day on my way to and from the school are the city workers in their orange jumpsuits sweeping the streets, trimming the bushes, picking up trash. And surprisingly, most of them are elderly women. Women constitute a much bigger share of civic services, manufacturing, and industrial jobs than in America.

Switching gears, being the only American (or person of any ethnic diversity whatsoever) in a town the size of Xingtai can get awful lonely, especially for someone with limited language ability. And the majority of people I know are either 5 years old or 45 years old so meeting someone in my age group is rare and can only come about through serendipity. That is why I was so thankful to finally hang out with two of my fellow teachers this past Saturday evening. We went out to dinner (I now know of at least one Chinese-approved, affordable restaurant in my area) and then played night badminton. I know I used to scoff at badminton, but it was probably the most fun Saturday night I’ve had so far (and sadly, the most exercise). We agreed we absolutely had to play again someday, only next time… maybe drunk?

Thank you all once more for taking time to read my ongoing story. I’ll try to take less time in the future between chapters. Zaijian!

After eight straight days of class and Open House presentations, I was happy to have a week-long holiday. Knowing this would probably be the longest holiday for the foreseeable next few months, I decided to take this opportunity and visit Hong Kong to renew my visa at the American consulate. I booked my train rides, flights, and a hotel for two nights. I could already tell this was  going to be quite an expensive trip. It started on Wednesday morning with a considerably quick train ride to Beijing  aboard the bullet train: just under two hours with a top speed of 300 km/h. (Not a bad way to kick off the trip, though the ticket was 185 RMB.)

From there, I took a bus from BeijingXi Railway Station to Beijing International Airport. That cost 16 RMB. It took way too long to find the correct check-in counter, after being misdirected by several ticket agents and very ambiguous signage. Even still, I was an hour too early to check in (better to be too early, though, I suppose). Got through customs and international security to my gate with plenty of time to spare. Sat next to an Argentinian man who I originally thought was actually Mandy Pantinkin. Arrived at Shanghai Pu Dong Airport and had to go through the same check-in procedure. Fortunately, the Shanghai airport was better organized and I already had my boarding ticket. Unfortunately, my flight was almost grounded due to mechanical failure. Thankfully, they were able to just move us to another gate. The passengers of a different flight were less lucky and had to make hotel arrangements for a later flight. Yikes.

Another flight later and I was getting into Hong Kong around midnight. Since I was unfamiliar with public transportation in Hong Kong and unsure if there were a bus or subway that would drop me near my hotel, I made my way to a cabstand and arranged for a taxi to take me to my hotel, about 27 km away. (When I researched which hotel to book, I looked for the shortest combined distance to the airport and to the American consulate.) The cab ride was definitely expensive, 182 HK dollars. That was one aspect I forgot to account for, different currency. The cab driver gladly accepted my RMB, though.

I made it to my hotel and checked in. But because I used an online travel site and an American debit card to book the hotel, they had a record of my reservation but no record of my paying. Plus, I needed to put down a 1000 RMB refundable deposit for the room. Thank god I had thought ahead to bring a ton of extra cash… 1000 RMB, to be exact. That meant I had very little cash on hand until I got my deposit back. Finally, I was all checked in and financially squared away, so I went up to my room, made a quick note of how much bigger than my apartment it was, set down my things, and started exploring the hotel and snapping photos.

Now, after a full day of traveling, all of my devices – laptop, iPod, iPhone, Chinese cell phone – were basically depleted. I had maybe 50% left on my iPhone, 15% left on my MacBook, but my Chinese cell phone was completely dead. Here’s the second aspect I forgot to account for: Hong Kong uses a completely different outlet and plug than mainland China. I had no way of charging my devices, even with my adapter. And that was the first major lesson I learned on this trip: find a way to make do without technology. I still used my iPhone as an alarm clock and a camera, but whatever charge remained, I knew I needed to reserve for emergencies or traveling.

I had fortunately thought ahead to bring sufficient food to last me at least through a day of traveling. Thankfully, the first flight served dinner and I was able to preserve some of my food. Because there was nothing near my hotel that sold food and as you can imagine, hotel food can be pretty pricy.

The next day, I took a taxi to the American consulate only to discover that due to the government shutdown, they were “unable to process my visa renewal request at this time.” When I had called ahead from Xingtai, the shutdown had not yet happened and they gave no indication of any foreseeable issues, so maybe they didn’t take the proper precautions. I walked the six kilometers back to the hotel, not wanting to waste more of my precious, limited travel funds on a cab ride back, and quite crestfallen at my lack of success . However, the walk exposed me to more of the city and gave me some good photos.

The next morning, I woke up early so I could check out and get to the airport with plenty of time (and hopefully take advantage of a free charging port and their free WiFi). I ended up splitting a cab with a British pilot who was staying at the hotel and also had a flight to catch. I offered to pay for the entire trip as it was an honor just to meet a pilot and share the company of a fellow Western traveler, but he insisted that we fairly split the cost. What a lovely chap!

At the airport, as I was waiting to check in, a ticket agent noticed me with no luggage and offered to help me check in at a kiosk and skip the long line. Another nice guy! Again, got through customs and international security to my gate with hours to spare so I sat down at a charging counter near my gate and I can’t tell you how wonderful it felt to board that plane with all my devices at least partially charged.

My connecting flight was in Yinchuan, which turned out to be a very small airport but it had the freshest, best-smelling air. I landed in Beijing and bought a bus ticket (16 RMB) to the train station. The bus only took us so far though, so I took my first pedicab ride the rest of the way (20 RMB). That was actually kinda cool, so much that I took a video… not sure what the people we passed must’ve thought. Now, bear in mind that this was around 10 pm, but the train gate smelled exactly like the classrooms I teach in, and by that, I mean… urine. Which is slightly more understandable and appropriate given that I teach kindergarteners and the bathrooms are adjacent to the classroom.

Waiting to board a flight can be stressful but it’s nothing compared to boarding a train in Beijing. Over a thousand people are crowded into your gate and they’re all pushing and fighting to get to the front of the line and everywhere you step, there are puddles, which if you’re lucky, are covered by newspaper. And this train, though significantly cheaper (55 RMB) than my bullet train to Beijing, my berth was not a bunk or a seat like my previous train rides. Instead, my berth was a tiny bench I shared with two other people. And that was considered the luxury seat. Other passengers were standing the entire time, sitting on a camp stool, lying on the floor, anything they could do. It was clear I wasn’t going to get any sleep on this red eye. Luckily, I met a very friendly old married couple who I struggled to chat with throughout. Finally, we reached Xingtai at 3 am. I disembarked and was shocked to find that even at 3 am, the train station was as crowded as it would be at any normal time of day. And looking American like I do, I was instantly surrounded by a crowd of overeager taxi drivers, anxious to be the one to take me home, like the prettiest girl at the dance. When I announced my destination, I was taken by the hand by two fellow passengers to a cab waiting nearby. I had no idea what was happening. My mind jumped to that timeless conclusion: I was either about to be kidnapped or scammed into paying for everyone. Turns out, these two people lived near my apartment and thought we could split the cab. I finally, finally reach home and my apartment welcomes me with no working electricity. I guess I’ll have to visit State Grid tomorrow and deposit more money into my electric card. Still, even that couldn’t shake me of this feeling: I was glad to be back in my own apartment – no matter how much it paled in comparison to my hotel room – because I had a bed, food, water, disposable income, and  hopefully very soon, electricity.

You may notice that this post is titled after the movie Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. I guess it’s almost poetic, given the chaotic, often unlucky, nature of my trip. It’s like I’m Steve Martin and everything that went wrong is John Candy. But I don’t want to hurt John Candy’s feelings. Yes, I’m still happy I got to see a slice of Hong Kong and yes, I’m thankful for the travel experience, so not a completely wasted trip, but anybody would admit, kind of disappointing right? …And did I mention expensive?

Being an American Kindergarten teacher in China can sometimes feel like being a rockstar. You enter the room and the kids start cheering. You end a song and they’re still screaming. Of course, as any rockstar, there is a downside to having crazy adoring fans. The children often “rush the stage” and will cling on you while you’re trying to teach. It’s impossible to quiet them down. And like any outdoor concert venue, there’s the faint but certain smell of urine.

But this is a Kindergarten gig, not Woodstock. Which means things like Open Houses, Picture Day, and lesson planning. I promised to eventually talk about how the actual teaching experience has been so far and I hope to do just that in this post. I’ll begin with Teacher Appreciation Day. Held in China on September 10th and recognized as a national holiday, Teacher’s Day is a day of gift-giving and recognition.  The traditional gift, as I understand it, used to be an egg, but nowadays, most kids bring flowers or cards. Now, this was only my second day of teaching so I wasn’t expecting or deserving of much yet, but lo and behold, I still received flowers from students and a gift bag filled with food from my principal. Needless to say, I was very grateful for the totally unmerited lavished attention.

Now let’s talk about the morning routine… because there’s actually a dance routine involved. Before the students get dropped off, the entire school staff do exercises along to Chinese nursery rhymes and children’s songs. Soon, the children and their parents start arriving, often accompanied by crying, even still, after a month. There was one child’s crying that you could set your watch to. In fact, the teachers started taking bets whether he would show up crying. I know because I finally had to ask what the money changing hands was about. It was also interesting to witness parents in their different capacities. Most arrive on bicycles or electric bikes. One parent I’ve come to realize is a taxi driver, drops his daughter off in his taxi. Another is a pedicab driver. Not entirely surprising, just something I hadn’t thought to expect.

Anyway, out of eight classes total (roughly 230 students), I teach four classes a day, four days a week, on a rotating class schedule. We usually start the class off with a song, an American nursery rhyme or children’s song. I then jump into teaching three or four new vocabulary words. After ambitiously trying to teach all 26 letters of the English Alphabet on the first day, I learned that three or four pieces of new information is just about all a Kindergartener can handle, if that. After we’ve run through the words several times, I ask for volunteers for the word games and activities. Jumping on the word, running around the room trying to find the word, throwing a ball at the word, saying the word first quiet then gradually louder, saying the word first long then short, etc. We finish up with a review of the words, when the children are hopefully better able to recall the word and bookend with another song. I do another morning class, and then, the entire school goes out into the courtyard for morning exercises and a short recess. As the children eat lunch and have their naptime, I head home for lunch and my own naptime, thank god. I come back in the afternoon, teach two more classes, and then lesson-plan for the next day with the respective teachers.

That was the custom for the past three weeks. And then, this week, the school held its Fall Open House, a four-day affair. We kicked it off on Wednesday evening after class ended with a song and dance workshop led by me. They asked me to select something fun and crazy that the kids would enjoy moving around to. My first thought was the Thriller dance, of course. I was actually seriously considering it, up to the point of watching a YouTube tutorial. I ended up going with something a little more age-appropriate and easy to learn, “If You’re Happy and You Know It” and “The Hokey Pokey.” Turns out, little kids go crazy for the Hokey Pokey! I thought, “Is this how The Wiggles feel all the time?!” That concert high continued over to the next day and the next, with parents coming back to sit in on their child’s class and even participate in some games at recess. I’ve now given the same concert three times and the reaction is still as frenzied and Beatlesmania-esque.

Wednesday was also Picture Day for my school. I was called out of a class and asked to stand with all of the classes as their class photos were taken, quite an honor, having that kind of permanence at a foreign school. And this is the first school photo where I can say, “Probably should’ve shaved.” As classes were waiting to take their photos, I was asked to entertain the students. Making funny faces and pretending you’ve also got a camera can go a long way.

After eight straight days of class and open house, I’ll finally get a week-long break, part of which I’m using to take a short trip to Hong Kong to renew my visa. I’m taking a train to Beijing; from there, I’ll fly to Hong Kong and stay in a hotel for two days before flying back to Beijing and taking another train home. I’ll get to see Hong Kong, the American consulate, Beijing again briefly, experience the bullet train, and fly on yet another Chinese airline. Should be quite the fodder for my next post, “Trains, Planes, and… Taxis, I Suppose.”

As always, thank you so very much for taking the time to read these posts. See you in a week! Zaijian!

First, I would like to dedicate this post to my brothers Patrick and Brian as well as my mother Camelia, who are all celebrating birthdays this week. Second, I would like to offer a slight disclaimer: when I wrote this blog entry late last night, I was out of my mind drunk.

Before I begin, I apologize for whatever shape this story takes, I am just so drunk. Tomorrow is the Mid-Autumn Festival, or Zhongqiu Jie, also referred to as the Lantern Festival or Mooncake Festival. It is both a Chinese national holiday as well as celebrated in other parts of Asia such as Korea and Vietnam. As I understand it, there are three fundamental traditions to the holiday: gathering together with family, giving thanks for the harvest, and praying for material or conceptual satisfaction (a child, a spouse, wealth, long life, etc.) Other traditional activities include lighting lanterns, dragon and lion dances, and the baking and giving of moon cakes.

This holiday is so revered that the teachers at my school asked if this week, I would teach a class on certain English words associated with the holiday such as lantern, lion, moon, star, and moon cake. Also, I have a four-day weekend with no class.

In honor of the festival, the principal of my school gifted me with a basket of apples, peaches, dragon fruit, and moon cakes. And two of my contacts in Xingtai, Tina and Jenny, invited me to have dinner with them at their friend’s restaurant. This wasn’t just a dinner though, this was a complete feast in the large, private dining room in back that made our Peking Duck orientation lunch look like a small snack. This was dinner in the traditional sense – several courses brought out seemingly without end.

We began with grapes to ready the appetite and palate, which led to Peking duck, fried eggplant (surprisingly the best-tasting thing I’ve had since arriving in China), sausage, tofu, pig’s ear, sea cucumber, cow’s stomach, and to end this glorious feast, dumplings. Everyone was overjoyed and patted me on the back when I said I would try anything. “Very brave!” Of course, there were several other things on the table – celery, sprouts, cherry tomatoes, watermelon – to serve as cleansers or transition foods.

But apparently the main course of this meal was alcohol because we definitely consumed enough. And politely declining to drink was not an option. To not drink would have been extremely disrespectful, I gather. It was insisted upon that I at least try the rice wine (which happens to tastes like and have the alcohol content of vodka). In addition to the rice wine, there was a bottle of red wine (and this was like a 500 Y bottle), and plenty of beer. After three rounds of group shots of the rice wine, I switched to beer, which is perceived more as a chaser, as if it’s closer to water than alcohol. And almost every ten minutes, there would be another toast proposed or another round of shots.

Throughout this marathon meal, my contacts and their friends were very curious as to the presence and significance of alcohol in American culture. I told them all, constantly switching back and forth between Mandarin and English and some sort of hybrid, about the college drinking culture, bar hopping and clubbing, drinking games, and the hundreds of different kinds of alcohol. I taught them some of the drinking vocabulary, like chug, take shots, and of course, drunk. In China, shots are taken one by one and instead of chug, they say “Drink all!” At one point, I even informed them of the practice of marking how many shots you’ve taken on your arm (mostly because I was simultaneously impressed and growing steadily worried about how many shots they were able to consume, felt like someone should be keeping track).

I wasn’t even the drunkest member of our party! In fact, I was probably the most sober, which, given my current state, tells you something about just how under the table my new friends drank me. But the funniest part was that our evening devolved into the totally cliche American drunk activities like over-the-top declarations of love and affection, uncontrollable giggling and crying, really cliche ineloquent speeches, etc. By the way, none of this is me, I’m just sitting there, silently marveling at the spectacle, nodding, and occasionally saying “Wo dong” or “Dui, dui.” I couldn’t believe the parallels! But I guess everyone gets drunk the same way and then behaves the same way.

Oh! This part just happened and I’m still wondering what the hell to make of it. So! We take a taxi back to my apartment building, they ask me if I’m okay enough to make it upstairs by myself, and I tell them “Wo hen hao, wo okay” but they escort me up to my apartment anyway and who should accompany us but two Xingtai police officers! I didn’t know what was happening but they assured me it was for my own safety. I made nice small talk with the police, they asked me where I’m from, what I’m doing in China, how long I studied Chinese, etc. Meanwhile, I’m just smiling and nodding and answering their questions as coherently as I can. I honestly thought I had violated some law where foreigners can’t be intoxicated because… I don’t quite know why, but needless to say, I was freaking out! Plus, the entire time, I was worried about the cleanliness of my apartment! I thought, “Oh no! My apartment isn’t immaculately clean for the Xingtai police!”

I suppose that sums up a very funny evening. In closing, I’d like to toast my brothers Patrick and Brian and my mom Camelia. Zhu Nimen Shengri Kuaile! A Happy Mid-Autumn Festival to all those celebrating. Cheers and… ganbei!

Upon arriving, one of the many gifts I found waiting for me in my apartment was an electric bike. It belongs to my contact, Tina, who was nice enough to lend it to me. I’m informed that many well-off or even middle class families own at least one car and a bike.

On my second day of teaching, after class, one of the teachers taught me how to ride an electric bike in the school courtyard. Turns out, it’s incredibly easy. But they still caution me: “Slowly. Very slowly.” What’s a little more challenging, but very fun, to be sure, is navigating China traffic.

As the title of this post suggests, it’s a lot like Tetris; you basically just try to fit wherever there’s an open space. I’m still very new to China and I haven’t investigated any of the actual laws, but it’s safe to assume that traffic laws are much more flexible here than in the states. In Chinese culture, punctuality is valued highly but people have come to be very understanding when it comes to traffic. To illustrate my point, in the prepaid cell phone that I bought here, there is a message template that reads, “Sorry, I will be late due to traffic.” In fact, that just happens to be the first template listed.

Obviously, there is an emphasis on timeliness. The trade-off, however, is selfishness. Bicyclists are still marginalized as they are in America, but at least in Xingtai, they are given a lane as wide as a normal motorist lane. Still, cars will cut bicyclists off completely at intersections. There doesn’t appear to exist the idea of “right of way;” in its place is the idea that “I will go now and I think I can beat you.” Oftentimes, their assumption is wrong and it can lead to a very close shave. It’s not uncommon for a taxi or a supply truck or really any stopping vehicle to insert itself into the bike lane. And though China drives on the right side of the road, it’s also not uncommon for bicyclists or motorists to drive the opposite direction in the bike lane.

Plus, the sheer concentration of vehicles is staggering. At certain points in the day, there will be more bicyclists on the road than cars. Nevertheless, the streets are always busy and there will always be aggressive drivers. Thankfully, I have yet to witness a single traffic collision. Plenty of close calls, though, even some involving myself.

Because drivers are so aggressive and reckless here, the streets are alive with the sound of honking. However, the functionality of the horn is so much more varied here whereas in America, the horn is rarely used, and only out of life-or-death caution and extreme frustration. Here, a driver will use his horn more as an announcement, whether he’s entering the lane, coming up behind someone he believes is going too slow, passing someone, trying to beat the light, turning against someone else, whatever the case may be. But you can be sure that the horn is still used, and frequently, out of frustration or impatience. The silver lining is that because it’s so commonly used, it isn’t viewed as an attack and the recipient doesn’t have to take it personally.

Since the street signs are all Chinese characters and my character recognition is still shaky (or just simply “bu hao”), I’ve memorized my route by sight and by landmark. I think I’ve figured out Xingtai’s traffic light system and I’m starting to be able to time the different lights on my route as well as predict which hours of the day will be most hectic. Because there’s not just two rush hour periods as in America; there could be as many as four, who knows?

All in all, plenty of pros and cons to China’s traffic structure. I’m definitely not ready to get behind the wheel, but for now, I am more than content to stick with the electric bike. Anyway, it’s really quite ideal for city driving. Plus, no gas expenses. I literally plug it into the wall and in a couple hours, it’s fully charged and good for more than a day. I have a couple holidays coming up and I can’t wait to explore more of the city.

In my next post, I promise to finally launch into what it’s been like teaching these adorable, rambunctious, noisy, precious little kindergarteners. Zaijian!

Welcome back. I’ll jump right in. On the train from Beijing to Xingtai, I foolishly had zero drinkable water with me. Between brushing my teeth and the occasional drink, over the course of two days, I had consumed the one bottle of water that the hotel had provided me. As I was settling into my new apartment, I was working so hard unpacking, wanting to get the place completely set up, that I neglected to take a couple minutes to sterilize a supply of drinking water. By the time I finally tasted that first sip of cold, fresh, safe water, my mind forgot about all other beverages entirely. Sure, the water had a funny aftertaste at first, but I’ve since stopped noticing it. I developed a whole system for my water supply. At night, I fill up my three canteens and use my SteriPen to purify the water (effectively zapping and neutralizing all the bacteria and viruses.). 90 seconds per liter. So I’ve got three liters of drinkable water in less than five minutes, longer if I want it cooled.

That was the first part of my routine that had to change. Those accustomed to using a Brita filter will testify it’s definitely an added step, one that you have to be purposeful and consistent about.

Here’s the second part of my routine that had to change and it’s also water-related:

On the left is the first shower I used in China, the wonderful shower at the hotel in Beijing, and a delightful transition away from the comforts of home. On the right is my current predicament: a precariously poised tank mounted on the wall with no shower curtain or partition whatsoever dividing the shower area from the rest of the bathroom. And it currently has one setting – cold. (Obviously, I understand that this is first-world privilege talking and I promise the rest of the blog will be more self-aware but for the moment, I ask that you humor me.) To break it down, this is my shower routine now:

1. First, remove the toilet paper from the bathroom, ensuring that your precious commodity doesn’t get wet.

2. Take the shower head in hand and crouch down into a tiny position so you don’t spray water all over the bathroom.

3. Then, quickly and compactly spray yourself, making sure that none gets in the eyes or mouth.

4. Turn off the water for a quick reprieve from the freezing water to lather up. Since there’s no shower curtain, you can take this moment to admire yourself in the mirror.

5. Turn the water back on and quickly rinse off.

6. You’re done! Turn the water off and be careful not to slip because despite your best efforts, there will be water covering half of the bathroom floor.

In the shower, you basically want to look like the Terminator when he arrives from the future – naked and crouched. Warning: partial nudity ahead (though, not mine thankfully, Arnold’s).

In truth, households and countries would probably benefit from people taking more efficient showers like this but at what cost? I’ll be the first to stand up (from my crouched position) and say that I do miss a warm, upright shower with some kind of basin.

Now, onto the second part of the equation: electricity. Being a state-governed utility in China, my apartment requires me to deposit money into an account with the state grid and the Hebei Electric Power Corporation. I then swipe an electricity card at a terminal outside my apartment, periodically reswiping in order to maintain a positive balance. My first few days, I had some trouble with the electricity. It took a while (and two electricians) to figure out that a fuse was resetting every time I plugged something into a particular outlet, even if I was abiding by the right voltage. Now, I can troubleshoot it myself and it hasn’t happened for some time.

In Xingtai, the smog, due to industry, weather flows, or just being trapped by the mountains, is as bad if not worse than Beijing. I can’t vouch for the air quality but so far, no respiratory problems. On the other hand, even in my apartment, the air can seem really thick. Plus, it just gets stuffy and hot anyway. So I’m very fortunate that I have such access to air conditioning.

Some people at work or school may say they like the temperature set at a certain degree. Myself, I’m a 23-degree kind of guy. (Celsius, of course.) That may change in the winter but it’s still hot enough to merit having it on almost constantly when I’m there. At my school, there isn’t much of an air conditioning system besides the occasional ceiling fan or open window. Even still, I sweat a lot up there which could betray confidence in my teaching abilities.

Hard to believe, but turns out, a member of my generation can survive for a few days living without access to the Internet, their cell phone, or the outside world, other than a newspaper. Being able to send an email to my parents from the Beijing hotel was a huge relief (probably more so for them). Other than that brief access, I was basically living in the 1990s for the first four days. The slightly older purveyors of this blog, I give you permission to roll your eyes. However, I am now living quite comfortably with free Wi-Fi and a pre-paid cell phone that works in all of China. And despite not having an actual cell phone plan, I can still use my iPhone to communicate with family and friends via WeChat and WhatsApp, all through WiFi. Finally – the people have struck a blow against AT&T.

In the next post, I will talk about transportation, specifically, the bike culture here and how significant it has been having access to an electric bike. Thank you for reading.

Alright, here we go. Forgive this first post, it requires me to think back to a little over a week ago when I was getting on a plane in San Francisco. With a backpack much heavier than anytime during high school or college and two large suitcases each weighing as close to 50 pounds as possible (I cannot tell you how many times we weighed those clunkers to get it right). An auspicious morning free of any problems or complications. Before my departure, my mother gave me a necklace charm given to her by a friend at the most holy Chinese Temple in Chinatown, San Francisco – this thing may actually be good luck. I traded my usual pre-flight ritual of listening to music for reading a guidebook to China, sent to me by my program. By the time I arrived at LAX, I had read that sucker from cover to cover.

Despite living in LA for five years, I had never flown in or out of LAX and so navigating that place, especially finding the correct international lounge, was rough. If only I knew what Beijing International Airport had in store for me. In any case, I had plenty of time to spare and I eventually found the ticket counter for Air China, made it through international security and to my gate. Looking around at my fellow passengers, I remember thinking, “Awful lot of honkys, more than I anticipated. Good that I’ll have some other confused Westerners around me, hoping to catch a smidgen of English.” We finally boarded the gargantuan 777 and I located my window seat, in the front row of my section, right over the wing, so the amount of leg room I had was insane. The next 14 hours were filled with movie watching, interspersed with Mandarin review and napping. The flight attendants are constantly bringing me complete meals and drinks, despite my Chipotle burrito (my last vestige of Western cuisine).

Maybe it was the several power naps I took or my general disorientation, but 14 hours went by faster than I expected. After skimming the Alaskan coast, where I hoped to catch a glimpse of some Maverick hunting elk from a helicopter, in no time, we were jutting down into mainland China. My first observation was the building clusters looked like neatly organized piles of Lego bricks.

We finally taxied into Beijing International Airport and disembarked. The name of the game now was Follow the Throng of People. I went through Immigration and Customs fine, then down to baggage claim where I nervously awaited my two suitcases. They finally came and so now, I had to take a free shuttle to Terminal 2 where my contact would be awaiting me. I arrived at Terminal 2 and because my phone was now basically a smart brick, I frantically walked the length down and back, inside and out, dripping sweat and wringing my hands. Finally, a Chinese man noticed my constant pacing and looking around. He approached me and inquired as to my troubles. Using the limited Mandarin at my disposal, I explained that I was trying to find my friend. The man asked if I had his phone number in my phone. (In my state of almost panic, that basic idea was like a genius epiphany – “Of course!”) I showed him the number and he supposedly called my contact on his phone. I say supposedly because at the time, in my head, I was imagining this brilliant scam where he picks up unsuspecting tourists at the airport (a la “Taken”) and then calls his partner to come kidnap me. From that moment on, I was on high alert and carefully eying my potential captor. Eventually though, he had led me downstairs to the first floor: international arrivals lounge. Turns out, the distinction of one floor was to blame for all my anxiety and consternation. We eventually located my contact and I sighed with heavy relief. I thanked the man endlessly and he asked for a tip. My gratitude, coupled with my guilt for suspecting this man of deceitful motives, insisted that I oblige. Still, I ain’t no dummy either. So when he asked for 200 Y, I seized the opportunity: aha! my first barter exchange! I haggled him down to 30, thanked him profusely once more for his assistance, and he went on his way. I felt somewhat ashamed that my first reaction to this scenario was to panic and assume I was moments away from being kidnapped and sold into the slave trade. Of course, given my parents’ grave concern and my active imagination, it was not unnatural to feel that way.

Finally, I met my contact face to face; Dong Dawei, or “Dylan”. He was already with the two other arriving teachers, whose flights had gotten in after mine, causing me once again to feel guilt at having made them wait while I was racing up and down the wrong lounge. They all shook me off and said not to worry about it, that they hadn’t been waiting long. We schlepped our respective belongings to the subway that would take us to downtown Beijing. (Quick side note: for those who pride themselves on their train surfing skills, I encourage you to test your mettle on the Beijing airport monorail or subway.) From there, we hastily hailed two taxis. Fitting all that luggage and four individuals into two taxis, during Beijing rush hour, was shall we say, taxing. But we finally made it to our hotel, Home Inn, a chain comparable to say, a Motel 6. We dropped off our stuff, did a quick change (I am not ashamed to say that I gladly accepted a spray of Axe from my fellow teacher and roommate, Dan), headed back down, and walked around, looking to grab a bite to eat. We first stopped at a tiny shop where Dylan bought each of us a bottle of water; Nongfu Spring, a reportedly trustworthy and safe brand. We then stopped at a street vendor and each got a bag of pork buns before finally stopping at an outdoor patio restaurant, Good Noodles. Dylan did all the ordering of course but everything was delicious.

We then headed back to the shop and Dylan bought each of us a bottle of beer, ridiculously cheap for how much beer they give you. After Dan displayed some marvelous ingenuity by using a gate to open the bottles, we walked around the neighborhood, nursing our beers and pondering the laws regarding open containers. Turns out, we were fine. We headed back to the hotel and turned in early, a more than acceptable proposition for all of us.

We woke up early the next day and took a taxi over to the Beijing BEIT office for the start of orientation. I will say, with the utmost humility of course, that I was kind of a hero for a minute, being the only one of us with language skills and correct denominations of Chinese currency. One of the office interns, Grace, met us and accompanied us to a local branch of China Construction Bank, where we were to set up our bank accounts. A bit like the DMV, so to pass the waiting, Grace and I conversed and she helped me review some vocabulary. We then taught Dan and Tainia the numbers 1 through 10 in Mandarin and some useful words. After getting our banking squared away, we returned to the office and headed out for the traditional Peking Duck arrival lunch. It was all so very good.

We came back to the office and began orientation which consisted of a packet of information and some survival Mandarin instruction taught by Chao, another office intern. Once again, I felt like the TA as it was more review for me but also an opportunity to take a back seat and help my fellow teachers (and occasionally show off).

After class, Grace and Chao escorted us via bus over to a pizza restaurant called the Kro’s Nest, home of the second-biggest pizza in Beijing. It was clear by the American music and decor that it was a sort of Hard Rock Cafe to appeal to American tourists. We all shared in a humongous, delicious Hawaiian pizza and then walked back to the hotel. The next morning, Grace picked Dan and I up and we split a taxi over to BeijingXi Railway Station. Along the way, we drove by the Forbidden City, Tiananmen Square, and many government buildings. (Given the short, hurried nature of our orientation, that would have to suffice until we could all return to Beijing to visit the sites properly.) While driving, I couldn’t help but note that this section of Beijing was a blend of ancient and modern architecture. It’s clear they took great pains to preserve the art and culture while integrate modern buildings and infrastructure.

After seeing Dan off, Grace and I had to wait a couple hours for my train to depart so we grabbed our own little corner and talked endlessly about US and Chinese politics, about how each viewed the other’s country, about my international relations studies, etc. When it was finally time to depart, Grace asked if I would like to purchase a special service for 50 Y that would allow me to board early and ensure that my luggage would have a place. Given the number of people and my desire to avoid looking like a classic tourist or tripping over my luggage or holding everyone up, I decided to take it. In fact, since I seemed tall and young and virile, I was recruited to help the porter guide the luggage trolley down the ramp to the train. I was applauded for my effort and probably gained a few brownie points with my fellow passengers, so that was good. I located my bunk, stowed my luggage, and laid down for what was to be a five hour train ride.

When I feared we were getting close, I came down from my bunk and just watched out the window for the remainder. Endless countryside and very few people. I frequently checked in with my bunkmates, fearful that I would miss my stop. “Women zai Xingtai?” “Are we at Xingtai?” They reassured me no until we finally made it to Xingtai. “Women qu.” “We go.”

I carefully disembarked with my two suitcases, making sure to tell everyone “duibuqi” for the inconvenience. At the station entrance, I was greeted by two of my contacts, Tina and Alice, plus Tina’s young son, Tony. We first drove over to the school where I discovered I was to teach… pre-school and kindergarten. A welcome but unexpected surprise. I met the principal who took me around to introduce myself to the different classes and teachers. After saying a very quick hello, we drove over to my new apartment. Tina and Alice helped get me into my place, showed my the different amenities and services, and then bade me good evening. I took a moment to take it all in but quickly set to unpacking and settling in. I’ll admit, I did feel overwhelmed and a bit scared, all alone in an unknown city. I remember feeling really nervous about how was I going to navigate everything with limited Chinese? But I knew I would get better and that I had at least three people looking out for me. For now, I could get some rest, confident I was safe and sound.