Slowing down
The cleaning, the packing, the farewells continue. Today, for the first time, I felt an eagerness to leave. I don't know if it's because we've said most of our farewells or I just want to get the cleaning over with. Or maybe it's because we've been able to arrange a trip back home to Chicagoland in July. It's probably a combination of all three.
Emotionally, this past weekend was the farewell weekend. Actually, it
was the last weekend we'll be here, as we fly out of town on Saturday morning. We were kept busy all weekend from the regular Saturday morning hike (which I opted out of to hose down the living room) all the way to a visit with a couple of students on Sunday evening. (We gave them a big pile of stuff we didn't want anymore--mostly the various magazines and brochures we had sitting under our coffee table.)(American junk mail is gold to a rural English student.) In between were a few photo sessions with various students and two delicious meals--one at a restaurant and one given by more students. If this feasting keeps up I'll gain back all the weight I lost here. It was fun but tiring.
Unfortunately, relaxing is not on the schedule. As usual, the various tasks before me--which look so easy on paper--seem to expand to fill the available time. I suppose I can still hold out hope that I'll have a good day tomorrow which will free up the rest of the weeks. I just won't hold my breath....
Ruts
One thing about living here--I've gained a new appreciation for pavement and proper drainage on the roadways. Not that I've ever had to drive on any of these dirt roads, mind you. I'm thinking that it would be a worse hassle than walking on them. Sort of like having to drive in snow all year long.
Anyway, I probably shouldn't complain too loudly. About 90% of the roads I use are paved. Unfortunately, that remaining 10% includes the driveway from campus to the rest of the world--a road I have to use every day. The road's in a temporary status at this point. The college is putting in a new gate/entrance, so traffic is diverted around the main roadway. The alternate route is a real mud pit this time of year and with all the big trucks passing through on the way to construction sites, the mud gets spread all down the road. I've given up on washing my shoes for the duration. Maybe I spring for a shoe shine at the airport on my way out.
I should point out that the picture above is
not the campus roadway. It's a country road that Yau Neih and I explored last Wednesday. It was a spousal hike that we scheduled to take advantage of us both having a "day off". (Technically, since my primary function has switched from home teacher to home packer and cleaner, I did have work to do. But I'm also my own boss in this... or at least as own boss as any husband can be. ;-) ) We packed a lunch and decided to follow a road we had discovered over the winter break. 'Twas a pleasant road, winding it's way up into the mountains to the south of town. There's a constant temptation on such roads to see what's around the next bend.
Of course, after a few "next bends" after our previous stopping point we came to what looked like the end of the road. There was a gateway over the road and a big building next to it. It looked like private property, though upon reflection I suppose it could have been the entrance to a village. (I still don't know how everything works here.) Not wanting to trespass, we doubled back and took the first side road we met. This ran up the mountain and quickly shrunk down to footpath status. We intrepidly followed and were treated to some great views of some local farms. One small valley had been transformed into a cascade of green rice paddies.
We quickly got lost as the path wound it's way higher and higher. Not lost in the sense of needing to be rescued, but rather in the sense that our only chance to find our way home would be to retrace our steps. After an hour, hour and a half, I really felt like we had penetrated unknown territory. The illusion was shattered about then when we reached a lookout point and could clearly see the campus in the distance. About a half hour later, we discovered a side path that took us to a trail which we had hiked before. Oh, well. It might have been backyard discoveries that we were making, but we enjoyed them nonetheless.
It appears that this jaunt was my last China hike. With one week left, I opted to stay home and clean rather than go on the last Saturday morning hike. With some regret I'll be washing off my hiking boots and try not to think of all the trails here that I haven't tried. But I'll also have fond memories for all the trails that I did get to discover. Kind of an apt metaphor for our whole life here, really.
The long goodbye
Gak! Two-thirds of the month of June has passed! Ten days left to pack, clean and say farewell. Of course, I make it sound like a big deal, but really the packing and cleaning is proving to be relatively easy. Unlike, say, Sherri who has to
clean and pack a whole big house, we only have have to deal with a two bedroom apartment and two years of accumulated clutter. It will still be a challenge to pack it all into eight suitcases, but accomplishing the task will be a rather quick process.
Meanwhile, while the girls and I are cleaning, Yau Neih has been teaching her final classes and administering tests. It's been a surprisingly emotional experience. Not so much for us--we're of fine German stock and so sublimate our emotional extremes into headaches and ulcers and all that. No, it's the students who are shedding the tears. In each of the four classes that Yau Neih teaches, her last class has been a "bawl fest". (Of course, I think she shares part of the blame as she decided to sing a farewell song to them. Songs always tend to make folks emotional.) It's weird, you wouldn't think that she's had
that big of an effect on the kids.
So anyway, we've got ten more days to take those last photos, swap e-mail addresses and shed a tear or two. It'll be interesting to see who stays in touch and who will drift away. In a amazing role switch, Yau Neih's been treating all the goodbyes as final ones while I tend to hold onto the optimistic maybe. She's quick to admit that "no, we won't be seeing you again." Me, I'll say that maybe we'll be back again someday. Intellectually, I know it would be a miracle if we even see two or three of these folks again. But then, ten years ago I was skeptical we'd ever be living in China.
School's out
This past Friday, my career as a home school teacher ended--not with a bang, not with a whimper, but with an order to my older daughter to put some figures on her timeline. It's certainly been a learning experience for me. Back in the day, I thought myself a pretty good teacher, having helped train a number of people in using a variety of software and equipment. I discovered that training adults is not the same as educating children. In my previous forays into training, I had simply offered the information I had, guiding the trainees when needed and answering any questions I could. If the person being trained didn't care to learn or use whatever technique I was demonstrating, it was no big deal. Either they had the smarts to find their own way or they could wallow in their ignorance. As long as I fulfilled my part of the bargain, I was satisfied.
Teaching my kids, however, turned out to be a whole 'nother ball game. Much as I would have loved to throw up my hands and walk away when Siu Wan was being cranky about doing math, I didn't dare. Not learning basic arithmetic was not an option. And while I could be serene about a co-worker doing slipshod work, seeing a sloppy lab write up from Ga Dai made me grit my teeth. I cared about their performance and I couldn't calmly accept poor performance.
The problem was, I discovered that a big part of education is management and I'm a lousy manager. I'm a good self-starter and a hard worker and all that, but I'm nigh clueless as to motivating someone else to do a good job. When it came to working with my kids, I had a hard time figuring when to offer words of patient encouragement and when to apply a proverbial kick in the pants. Looking back, I think we all muddled through, but I think that the kids would have done better had my wife had been in the driver seat.
Anyway, this fall they can return to life in Seattle and hopefully Yau Neih can mend whatever damage I inflicted on the kids' education. After two years of handling the homeschooling, I would still recommend it as a superior alternative to public schools, but I also have a greater respect for and understanding of those parents who say that they couldn't handle it.
The week that was
I suppose while I have a moment I should make a posting. Just to clean up a few odds and ends. Blogging is a lower priority these days, of course, but I still should make an effort to continue this chronicle to the end. When that end will be, I don't know. I figure that my theme should be valid for a few months as we settle back into life in America. After then, who knows? Maybe another blog with a different name. Maybe I'll have time for something completely different. A mimeographed fanzine would be nice....
***
Anyway, I posted before about
farewell dinners and the like. The dinner with the dancers was pretty much as expected--a lot of smiling and eating and posing for pictures, but little conversation. Oh, and we did some dancing, too. I think I might have been wishing for a bit too much regarding socialization with the folks. We made a deeper connection, but it was on an emotional level rather than an intellectual one. It wasn't all I had hoped for, but it was fun. (I also burned my lips off when I had some chicken feet at dinner. Apparently those folks prefer their food, like their music, to be hot and spicy.)
***
We had our second banquet on Saturday when the graduating five-year class invited us for dinner. It was literally the most last minute invitation we have ever received. We were planning on going out to dinner that evening and we were putting on our shoes to go when there was a knock. One of Yau Neih's colleagues was at the door and he informed us that we were invited to the party and the cabs were waiting downstairs. Yau Neih commented later that, two years ago, she would have been angry over such a last minute proposition. After two years in China, however, she was able to accept the invite in stride. Will we ever be able to adapt back to American ways? Do we want to?
***
Oh, there was another feast in between the aforementioned parties. Yau Neih celebrated a birthday last week and four of her students treated her (and her lucky family) to a homemade dinner. I was amazed that such good Chinese food could come out of our little kitchen. (Don't get me wrong, Yau Neih is a great cook, but she doesn't do real Chinese cuisine.) I was even more amazed that four people could work in our little kitchen. What can I say? These are some amazing ladies.
***
In a bit of synchronicity, we received word yesterday that the water heater in our house went kaput. At the same time, our campus is lacking hot water. We're supplied here from a hot spring, and I guess the water level is too low to provide us with a good supply. Or so I'm told. I don't fully understand the mechanics behind it. All I know is that the Seattle water heater is a whole lot easier to fix.
Here comes da judge
Well, the venture is winding down, but there's still time for new experiences. Tonight I got to be a judge for the Foreign Language Department's speaking competition. This is one of those "honors" that our co-workers had warned us about, along with things like being asked to perform at talent shows and being offered
bai jiu toasts at banquets. Unlike the other honors, however, we had never been asked to judge anything until this past month. There were two preliminary rounds of speeches and Yau Neih got tagged to judge both. Me, I had to miss the previous bouts and I think the only reason I was asked this time was that the other foreign teachers had said that they were unavailable. Ah, well. I had plenty of experience being a second (or was that third?) stringer back in junior high basketball, so I was glad to serve. Glad and slightly nervous.
I have never been a judge of anything before, but I figured I could do a passable job of it. On one hand I can be incredibly nitpicky, so I was sure I could critique the speeches and speakers. On the other hand, I realized that the primary goal was to encourage language learning, so I could keep my inner critic on a leash and not be too harsh. Besides, the other judges could always balance me out. What I didn't realize was that this was a realtime event. I had try to listen to the speeches, make my evaluation and scribble it down by the time the next speech started. There was no time to reflect on it all, much less rewind the speech to catch a segment again. If I failed to catch something, it was gone.
Unfortunately, it took me time to adjust to the process, as well as to get a feel for the point system. Theoretically, the point spread went from zero to 1.0. In actuality, the scores centered around .8 or so. In my case, I started with .6 being the basic assigned score for passable work, and tried to judge speeches along a 4 point spread. After the confusion of the first few speeches, however, I fell back to more of a three point system and the low number crept up to .7 by the end. I wished I could have went back and re-evaluated the initial contestants, but of course, I couldn't. Unfortunately, the first speeches were all given by non-English majors, who all got lower scores. Hopefully they took it in stride and haven't developed a loathing for the snooty Foreign Language Department.
Another surprise was my attempt to be impartial. I figured that I could be objective and all that, but I discovered that it took some effort. "Love covers a multitude of sins," as the saying goes and I was really tempted to cut my favorite students some slack. Well, really, I wanted to cut all of the students some slack. But then for fear of partiality, I'd be tempted to start getting critical. In the end I wished I could have just skipped the whole judging thing and taken all the students out for ice cream or something. Ah, well, at least it's unlikely that I'll have to do that ever again.
Shake, shake, shake
I didn't get a good night's sleep on Saturday. Not because I was nervous about hanging with the dancers, but rather that we had an earthquake at 5:30 in the morning and I couldn't get back to sleep. You might have heard about it, it made the international news. Oddly enough we got e-mails of concern from Illinois before we got phone calls from the company office in Hong Kong. But for us, it wasn't that big of a deal. We were about 200 km (120 miles) from the epicenter, so while we got shaken, there was no damage.
As a native of a flat, stable land, I took the earthquake quite calmly. Of course, I was sound asleep when it hit. By the time I was awake enough to think about my safety, the quake was over. I then waited for any cries from the children, and when there were none, I rolled over and thought about going back to sleep. The thought of buildings collapsing crossed my mind, and I said a quick prayer for those folks who might be living in older or poorer buildings. It never really occurred to me that
we might be residing in an unsafe building. (I heard later that at least some of the students were hustled out of bed and ended up having to stand outside for a half hour.) Why wouldn't Yunnan have the same strict building codes as Seattle? I actually don't know how safe this building is or not. I suppose that's just one of the hallmarks of being a foreigner--you assume things are just like home until you learn otherwise.
Anyway, things look fine for us. The folks over in Pu'er City, however, are still suffering from
the aftereffects.
Bashful
One month to go--the countdown begins. Okay, in one sense, we already did. I didn't notice when exactly, but a while back when something annoying happened, we started muttering, "Just
x more weeks." But that doesn't strike me as a proper countdown. A proper countdown, in this situation, would be in days. But we haven't started counting days at all. We're not eager to leave by any means.
But leave we must, and this is the month of farewell. If last year was any indication, it means a number of graduation parties or farewell dinners. The first one will be this Sunday and it's one I approach with a bit of trepidation. It will be the first time that we actually socialize with the street dancers.
I've mentioned the dancers before, the guys who danced on the street corner, back in the day, and eventually moved operations over to a local park. They bestowed membership tags upon us and we eventually settled into having a dance night once a week. Well, that's been about the extent of our relationship with them. Last year, we did try to trck down some of the music to which we danced and so brought some students along to talk to the dance leader. She gave us a list of song titles and also mentioned something about inviting us to dinner or a picnic or something. Nothing materialized, but that was okay. They continued to let us massacre their dances, and that was enough.
Time passed, new songs were added to the repertoire, so this year we again hired Gail to be our translator and asked for more song titles. This time we mentioned that we were heading back to the States for good and the dance leader definitely wanted to have a get together. Her exact idea was a bit unclear. She apparently wanted to have us get together with a small number of "good dancers", so we could dance and they could videotape the whole thing. What was unclear was whether the vid was for us to remember them by or for them to use to promote the group. It seems that our being regular participants in their dance circle has given them some face or something. When we pinned down the details, we discovered that there would be dancing and dinner.
So now we have a dinner party awaiting us and I'm nervous. I mean, I always have a great time dancing and I'm fascinated by this group. I have a zillion questions I'd love to ask them. But at the same time I know that when I sit down with one of them, I won't be able to articulate a single one of them. I don't want to come across as a fool to these folks I admire. (I had the same problem when I had an opportunity to chat with Eva Moon of Balkanarama. Once I got beyond "you guys are great," I didn't know what to say.) Of course, one of the advantages of being a
lao wai is that people might think your foolishness is just a cultural difference. So maybe I might be able to pop out a question or two. We'll have to see what kind of nerve I can work up.
