In addition to the more obvious things I will miss such as friends and students, I have written a short list of daily life happenings that I will dearly miss...
1. Rou bao, dan bing, hong shao rou...and many other Chinese foods
2. My bike, Hong Long (Red Dragon), and riding it everywhere at all times of day
3. Speaking Chinese everyday
4. Sharing food--most Chinese meals consist of several dishes, which everyone eats
5. Random job opportunities, i.e. voice recordings, modeling, acting gigs that just pop-up
6. Constantly meeting new people from all over the world
7. My schedule!
8. $1 DVDs
9. Walking into a store like Gucci in my running gear and not being snubbed
10. How easy it is to keep a healthy lifestyle, i.e. biking, running twice a weak, eating well, cheap preventative health care like acupuncture and cupping
11. $2.50 for a hair wash, head massage, and straightening my hair
12. Chinese English names, i.e. Stone, Grubby, Gandalf, Alert, Hajji, Clitty (really did have a student named this!)
13. Daily witnessing history---in the buildings, lake, and legends
14. Always learning and trying something new
15. Public transportation, although not always the best, is readily available and cheap
16. Teaching and the hilarious and amazing things that happen in the classroom
TO BE CONTINUED...
Friday, March 20, 2009
Friday, March 6, 2009
You want me to do...what?! / Modeling in China
A close friend of mine recently turned 30 and to celebrate the occasion, he held a party themed "what did you want to be when you grew up?" I put a lot of thought into my costume. There was a point I wanted to be a doctor, a teacher, an astronaut (still haven't given up that dream), a writer, a mother, a business woman, a ballerina, etc. Dressing as a writer and a teacher wouldn't be that fun for obvious reasons. At some point, I probably will be a business woman and a mother. The astronaut one would've been cool except for the obvious problem of finding the jumpsuit and helmet, and the ballerina one would've been awesome too, except for finding the material and then making a tutu. Too much work.
Then I remembered that as a pre-teen, I toyed with the notion of modeling. I think I dropped that ambition around 16 when my 6-foot long-legged friend and I were in the Target parking lot and a modeling agent approached us and didn't even glance in my direction going right to my friend saying, "You should model!" I stowed away my hopes of "making it big" and focused on other things like honor roll, getting into university, Varsity basketball and cross country, and eating midnight brownie sundaes with my best friend.
Only when I moved to China did my childhood hopes resurface. I car modeled once in Changsha, which was more hilarious than fulfilling. They dressed me in a black witch-like dress that hung off the shoulder and felt like fake velvet. I stood next to an old car in Hunan sun for 3 hours, forcing a smile. I never realized how exhausting modeling could be. Try standing in heels looking effortlessly "beautiful" for 3 hours while people just snap pictures at you. Uncomfortable doesn't capture it. I lasted about 30 minutes before I started making conversation with the people taking my photos both because I was bored to tears and it was humanizing. My other friend wasn't quite so lucky. I'll spare names, but let's just say it was her birthday the night before and she misunderstood the job description, thinking it was more like the car models one sees in body shop calendars. When we discussed this over the lunch break, and she realized what she had done, she was mortified and refused to return for the afternoon session. I just know that some Hunan lao ban (boss) has a framed photo of my bleached blond friend on his desk.
Up until now, that has been the extent of living the dream, so I decided to shock some of my friends in Hangzhou, since I normally wear bike-riding friendly clothes, not too much make-up, and always keep my hair curly. I drug the black strapless dress out of cobwebs, borrowed some Audrey Hepburn type glasses, got my hair washed and straightened for the bargain price of 20 RMB (less than $3), did up the make-up, wore tall boots, and practiced sucking in my cheeks. People didn't recognize me. I never know how to take comments like, "Oh my god, you're hot! I didn't know it was you!" Uh... thanks?
I got into character, strutting all night, doing model walks with my girlfriends, and taking loads of pictures, which brings me to the entire point of the post. I've recently been in contact with a movie agent because they need extras for a local movie. I've also always wanted to act, so I sent her a few pictures of me, including a couple from that night. She called me today about a fashion show opportunity. After playing phone tag, I finally got in touch with her, so that she could explain the details. Never assume, as I relearned with my yoga/belly dancing class.
We spoke in Chinese.
"Hi! So, this opportunity is for a fashion show."
"Great! What kind of fashion show?"
"Well... nei ku de"
Americans have a habit of repeating what has just been said to them, or so my English friend tells me, so I responded, "Nei ku," making sure I understood correctly.
She took that as a need to explain, "Bra and underwear."
I laughed, "Bu xing!" (impossible)
"Yeah, that's fine. I understand. I'll contact you next time."
Oh, zhong guo. These are the kind of experiences I'm going to miss when I'm back in the States!
Then I remembered that as a pre-teen, I toyed with the notion of modeling. I think I dropped that ambition around 16 when my 6-foot long-legged friend and I were in the Target parking lot and a modeling agent approached us and didn't even glance in my direction going right to my friend saying, "You should model!" I stowed away my hopes of "making it big" and focused on other things like honor roll, getting into university, Varsity basketball and cross country, and eating midnight brownie sundaes with my best friend.
Only when I moved to China did my childhood hopes resurface. I car modeled once in Changsha, which was more hilarious than fulfilling. They dressed me in a black witch-like dress that hung off the shoulder and felt like fake velvet. I stood next to an old car in Hunan sun for 3 hours, forcing a smile. I never realized how exhausting modeling could be. Try standing in heels looking effortlessly "beautiful" for 3 hours while people just snap pictures at you. Uncomfortable doesn't capture it. I lasted about 30 minutes before I started making conversation with the people taking my photos both because I was bored to tears and it was humanizing. My other friend wasn't quite so lucky. I'll spare names, but let's just say it was her birthday the night before and she misunderstood the job description, thinking it was more like the car models one sees in body shop calendars. When we discussed this over the lunch break, and she realized what she had done, she was mortified and refused to return for the afternoon session. I just know that some Hunan lao ban (boss) has a framed photo of my bleached blond friend on his desk.
Up until now, that has been the extent of living the dream, so I decided to shock some of my friends in Hangzhou, since I normally wear bike-riding friendly clothes, not too much make-up, and always keep my hair curly. I drug the black strapless dress out of cobwebs, borrowed some Audrey Hepburn type glasses, got my hair washed and straightened for the bargain price of 20 RMB (less than $3), did up the make-up, wore tall boots, and practiced sucking in my cheeks. People didn't recognize me. I never know how to take comments like, "Oh my god, you're hot! I didn't know it was you!" Uh... thanks?
I got into character, strutting all night, doing model walks with my girlfriends, and taking loads of pictures, which brings me to the entire point of the post. I've recently been in contact with a movie agent because they need extras for a local movie. I've also always wanted to act, so I sent her a few pictures of me, including a couple from that night. She called me today about a fashion show opportunity. After playing phone tag, I finally got in touch with her, so that she could explain the details. Never assume, as I relearned with my yoga/belly dancing class.
We spoke in Chinese.
"Hi! So, this opportunity is for a fashion show."
"Great! What kind of fashion show?"
"Well... nei ku de"
Americans have a habit of repeating what has just been said to them, or so my English friend tells me, so I responded, "Nei ku," making sure I understood correctly.
She took that as a need to explain, "Bra and underwear."
I laughed, "Bu xing!" (impossible)
"Yeah, that's fine. I understand. I'll contact you next time."
Oh, zhong guo. These are the kind of experiences I'm going to miss when I'm back in the States!
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Way Out / 出口 chu kou
I said goodbye to my best Chinese friend a few days ago. She's leaving for Italy in a matter of days and will be studying a master's program in art for 2-3 years. This is her first time to leave China and her first time to leave others behind rather than watching others leave her.
Her hometown is in Shanghai, so she came to Hangzhou to see me and her other friends from university before she goes. We met in the same Starbucks near West Lake where we met the first time over a year ago and sat in the same spot our friendship began. We shed some tears, talked about our lives, and shared our last strawberry napoleon, a powdered sugar cream puff type cake that only comes out at Chinese Starbucks in spring.
I refused to take "no" for an answer to see her off at the train station. While she was saying goodbye to some friends in the jewelry shop she used to work at, I snuck into a flower shop nearby and bought her one stem with two stargazer lilies. She jokingly rolled her eyes at my sappiness, saying what she always does when I do something particularly silly, mischievous, or over-the-top, "Ke Lin..."(my Chinese name).
I watched her queue in the ticket line, and just as I had looked back weepily at her when I left for Beijing this summer at the airport, every few steps she turned around to look at me. Everytime she looked back I waved and smiled. When she arrived at the front of the line, I walked up to the fence, and she gave me one last teary hug before walking on the platform. As I left the station, I saw the Chinese word 出口 chu kou or exit. Only most exits in China are translated literally into English as "way out." Those were the last words I saw as I left, guiding the way to my own imminent departure from China.
Rae (her English name) taught me a whole other level and experience of friendship. I don't think I realized how overused the words "friend" and "love" are in the English language until I moved to China. Chinese people only call true friends, friends. If it's a colleague, they call him/her a colleague, an acquaintance an acquaintance, a classmate a classmate. They rarely falsely throw out that word, just as they rarely say the word 爱ai or love. These words are special. They mean something. How many "friends" do I have on facebook that I barely even know? Why is the same word I use for my love for pizza the same as love of my family? I know I'm not the first to stumble upon this realization, but perhaps it's my time to internalize it as I begin my own goodbyes.
For those of you who know me well, you know that I am moving back to the States in late April or early May. I have already accepted a job, and all that's left to do is book the flight, book a trip to Tibet (a place I've always wanted to visit), sell my things, pack, ship things home, close accounts, get the qi paos made I always wanted, make some extra money before I go, finish teaching, and of course, say goodbye. Not so easy.
It's not friends like Rae I worry about. There is no doubt in my mind that I will see her again and that we will be lifelong friends. It's just a question of when and where. It's the man who sells me my flatbread, the woman that knows I always like 2 kuai's worth of dan bing every morning, Xiao Huang the one that knows I always get Chinese spinach with mushrooms every time I go to my favorite restaurant. It's my students. It's the people at the bank that always take pity on me when I don't have a clue how to transfer money or start up a credit card. It's the details.
I've only recently started telling people I'm leaving. Even new people I meet, like the woman today, recommended that I stay in China permanately and find a Chinese man to marry. This is not the first time I've heard this of course. People used to ask me, "Do you have a boyfriend?" Now they ask me, "Have you gotten married yet?" Somewhere between being a freshly graduated college student and my nearly 3 years here, I grew up, and the ever increasing Chinese side of me says, "Wow, you're already 27. Maybe it's time to start thinking about that."
The side of me that still maintains I'm 25 when asked replies, "Wo tai nianqing!" (I'm too young!). I still get laughs, but that joke may be starting to lose a bit of its humor.
So on my way out, I will be posting previous writings and pictures as well as my new adventures. Maybe it's the inherent symbolist in me, but it's important for me to have bookends. I will also start to publish exerpts from the book I'm writing about my first year in Ningyuan. Feel free to comment on any or all of the posts. It would be great to get some feedback.
If there's one thing that traveling has taught me it is to be in the moment. The food. The places. The people are only there once in that way. In my last weeks, I will savor 4 meat-filled steamed buns for 2 kuai, the mountains here, my friends, my beloved bike, hong long. Tonight I am appreciating the glow of the heat lamp beside me and my Chinese sweet bread.
Her hometown is in Shanghai, so she came to Hangzhou to see me and her other friends from university before she goes. We met in the same Starbucks near West Lake where we met the first time over a year ago and sat in the same spot our friendship began. We shed some tears, talked about our lives, and shared our last strawberry napoleon, a powdered sugar cream puff type cake that only comes out at Chinese Starbucks in spring.
I refused to take "no" for an answer to see her off at the train station. While she was saying goodbye to some friends in the jewelry shop she used to work at, I snuck into a flower shop nearby and bought her one stem with two stargazer lilies. She jokingly rolled her eyes at my sappiness, saying what she always does when I do something particularly silly, mischievous, or over-the-top, "Ke Lin..."(my Chinese name).
I watched her queue in the ticket line, and just as I had looked back weepily at her when I left for Beijing this summer at the airport, every few steps she turned around to look at me. Everytime she looked back I waved and smiled. When she arrived at the front of the line, I walked up to the fence, and she gave me one last teary hug before walking on the platform. As I left the station, I saw the Chinese word 出口 chu kou or exit. Only most exits in China are translated literally into English as "way out." Those were the last words I saw as I left, guiding the way to my own imminent departure from China.
Rae (her English name) taught me a whole other level and experience of friendship. I don't think I realized how overused the words "friend" and "love" are in the English language until I moved to China. Chinese people only call true friends, friends. If it's a colleague, they call him/her a colleague, an acquaintance an acquaintance, a classmate a classmate. They rarely falsely throw out that word, just as they rarely say the word 爱ai or love. These words are special. They mean something. How many "friends" do I have on facebook that I barely even know? Why is the same word I use for my love for pizza the same as love of my family? I know I'm not the first to stumble upon this realization, but perhaps it's my time to internalize it as I begin my own goodbyes.
For those of you who know me well, you know that I am moving back to the States in late April or early May. I have already accepted a job, and all that's left to do is book the flight, book a trip to Tibet (a place I've always wanted to visit), sell my things, pack, ship things home, close accounts, get the qi paos made I always wanted, make some extra money before I go, finish teaching, and of course, say goodbye. Not so easy.
It's not friends like Rae I worry about. There is no doubt in my mind that I will see her again and that we will be lifelong friends. It's just a question of when and where. It's the man who sells me my flatbread, the woman that knows I always like 2 kuai's worth of dan bing every morning, Xiao Huang the one that knows I always get Chinese spinach with mushrooms every time I go to my favorite restaurant. It's my students. It's the people at the bank that always take pity on me when I don't have a clue how to transfer money or start up a credit card. It's the details.
I've only recently started telling people I'm leaving. Even new people I meet, like the woman today, recommended that I stay in China permanately and find a Chinese man to marry. This is not the first time I've heard this of course. People used to ask me, "Do you have a boyfriend?" Now they ask me, "Have you gotten married yet?" Somewhere between being a freshly graduated college student and my nearly 3 years here, I grew up, and the ever increasing Chinese side of me says, "Wow, you're already 27. Maybe it's time to start thinking about that."
The side of me that still maintains I'm 25 when asked replies, "Wo tai nianqing!" (I'm too young!). I still get laughs, but that joke may be starting to lose a bit of its humor.
So on my way out, I will be posting previous writings and pictures as well as my new adventures. Maybe it's the inherent symbolist in me, but it's important for me to have bookends. I will also start to publish exerpts from the book I'm writing about my first year in Ningyuan. Feel free to comment on any or all of the posts. It would be great to get some feedback.
If there's one thing that traveling has taught me it is to be in the moment. The food. The places. The people are only there once in that way. In my last weeks, I will savor 4 meat-filled steamed buns for 2 kuai, the mountains here, my friends, my beloved bike, hong long. Tonight I am appreciating the glow of the heat lamp beside me and my Chinese sweet bread.
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