Typhoon!

Murmurings of a typhoon were heard on Tuesday evening. Wednesday afternoon a student vehemently declared that it would begin at 8am the next day. Thursday morning, Zach trotted off to class with light winds and returned at 1:30pm thoroughly soaked, exclaiming, "Palm fronds become deadly spears during a typhoon!" It seems he spent the better part of his walk home dodging flying skewers.

By three o'clock, the wind was thrashing palm trees as though they were bendy straws and the rains were torrential. I spent the afternoon reading while Zach re-watched Stargate. More than once we found ourselves looking out at the mayhem, as well as eyeing our windows with wariness, wondering whether they would withstand the pressure.

Our dinner was interrupted by a loud crash, prompting us to run to our patio--along with Rob, Yvonne and Billy to their respective patios. Swinging between the apartments was a large satellite dish. It belonged to the Russian family who live on the first floor. Over the roar of the storm, silly and snide remarks about falling Russian satellites were exchanged. Ten minutes later, another loud crash prompted another run to the patios only to find the satellite had fallen completely.

This morning we walked the campus to survey the damage. It wasn't horrific, but damage was significant. The landscape crews were out in full force battling the piles of limbs and downed trees. Besides foliage damage, many lamp posts were bare of lights and storefront awnings were missing.

It was odd (and exciting) to experience something I had only ever seen on weather reports, but in many ways it was a soggy tornado. The sky even turned yellow before it began. The lessons learned in this experience (which are yet to be determined) will soon be utilized as we have been informed that another one is on the way for next week.

Mayor's Banquet

Once a year, the Zhanjiang mayor invites the entire foreign population of the city (all 50 of us) to an evening of feasting at the Crowne Plaza Hotel. Fellow teachers had forewarned us to temper our expectations as it tends to be a quick affair, but Zach and I chose to embrace the experience by dressing up and donning our schmoozing faces. Plus, I have never known a Chinese affair to be quick.

We had the opportunity to meet the president of our university, who was celebrating his birthday. We also met a Frenchman who runs a glass company in the city (when the banquet began he sat beside the mayor and gave a speech), as well as a fellow Oregonian hailing from the Ashland area.

The mayor was late to his own party.

The late arrival compounded by the typical pomp and circumstance speeches and toasts, meant we were ravenous by the time food began to arrive.

The food spread was expansive and upon being told there were two vegetarians at the table, the chefs went overboard and plied our table with at least six different vegetable dishes.

It was a fabulous, unique evening to be wined/dined and to meet fellow foreigners sprinkled throughout the city.

Today...

Today during my mid-night run to the bathroom, I was greeted by an unexpected visitor. Without contacts or glasses, he garnered my attention in my peripheral vision which resulted in my giving a squeak of fright. Two weeks ago, our neighbors had a snake in their bathroom, so our animal radar is on high alert. After our mid-night meeting, he has decided to take up residence around our sink/bathroom area. I named him Sebastion.

Today, I mulit-tasked by grading papers and sunbathing in our front yard. 

Today, I learned that at the campus hair salon when I say "yes" to having my hair washed prior to cutting, I am actually agree to a twenty minute head/neck/upper back massage.

Today, shelves were added to our kitchen. I really, really like them.

 

Freshman Orientation

As the morning breeze flutters my blue curtains and I attempt to dodge the fabric while brushing my teeth, I hear them.

Yi. Er. San.

While cooking dinner, I hear them.

Yi. Er. San.

While prodding my students to figure out why the word typewriter is a clue to a time period, I hear them.

Yi. Er. San.

"Many of you ask the difference between American and Chinese universities," I tell my classes. "In America, when you are a new freshman on campus we give you tons of free food--free pizza, free burgers, free ice cream. We have celebrations and parties. In China, freshman show up on campus, you hand them military uniforms and say 'MARCH!'. I think Americans get the better deal."

Amid gaped mouths and bewildered eyes, the students laugh. Welcome to freshman orientation, Chinese style.

For two weeks, the innocence is marched out of the new recruits long before they reach the classroom. Clad in naval camo, groups are dispersed throughout the campus to hone and perfect their marching and discipline. The early days were comical, as the platoons tended to resemble a group of blueberries rather than hard core soldiers. Progress has been made, including the forming of actual lines.

Their military training does provide an added liveliness to campus, as well as opportunities for the foreign teachers to be foreign. Our Aussie neighbor, Rob, is known for standing behind and mimicking the commanding officer as he barks orders. I have found myself mock-marching around platoons standing at attention, to many giggles. However, Zach has soared to celebrity status on campus thanks to his stunt a few days ago.

On his way to class, he strolled past waving and saying hello to the students as they sat on the ground in two lines, facing each other. Before he walked too far, he doubled back, stood at the end (in the middle) of the two lines, counted to three then dashed through the middle slapping hands. A bystander caught his antic on camera, posted it to the campus website and I have found myself on more than one occasion discussing my husband's silly act.

One week done, one to go. I hear training gets more interesting in the coming days. Perhaps they will learn to count to four.

My Campus

After class today I meandered to tent city to sate my cold noodle craving. On my walk back home I took time to snap photos of my campus, as there was a substantial breeze and the temperature was cooler (as in 89 degrees versus 97 degrees with 110% humidity). Three weeks since arriving, I still continue to be amazed by the surrounding beauty and serenity of our new home.

Butterfly Lake - the large lake that greets every person as they enter the school grounds. During the evening hours, many couples can be found sitting on its shore. I have begun doing yoga alongside its water a couple nights a week.

The majestic palms are everywhere; short and tall their fronds provide ample shade as well as impressive breezes.

Our front yard is a jungle, which I love walking through every day.

Chinese Jamba Juice

Outside the front gate is a bustling area affectionately termed "Tent City." It is a conglomerate of eateries, shops, hairdressers, fruit stands, tea stands, etc. It is a little village set up specifically for the needs of the students and staff of this university, thus thriving well in their monopoly-type situation. Zach and I have been frequent visitors in this area whether to buy fruit, eat with students or taking an evening stroll.

We have become frequent visitors of the smoothie stand. With a setup similar to a historical soda fountain, we have spent quite a bit of time sitting at its counter, watching the owners work, chatting with students and sipping on some of the best smoothies we have ever tasted. For a mere four yuan (75 cents US), our fruitaholic selves are sated.

Since we can't read the menu, it has been a process of gesturing and broken Chinese to figure out our favorites. I am rather partial to the mu guo or man guo san bing-- papaya or mango smoothie.

Household Hiccups

The thrill of moving into a new home is discovering the hidden treasures as well as the quirks. We quickly realized that our kitchen sink has some regurgitation issues...from underneath the floor. We are certain this an ingenious Chinese design (insert sarcasm), yet are not real excited to have scum we just washed from our dishes end up on our feet. No wonder during our initial cleaning spree, fifteen cockroaches scurried from this dank chasm.

To do: buy caulk.

Bag O' Butter

It is un-nerving the selection and the size of cooking oil in this country; it nearly rivals the soy sauce choices. It is not uncommon to be standing in the check out lane alongside a buggy with at least three jugs of the lardy concoction. Butter, on the other hand, is an unknown substance. In Beijing, we could ever so often find sticks of butter. In Zhanjiang, butter can only be bought at the western supply shop, a seedy warehouse similar to a Costco. It doesn't come in sticks; it has to be purchased by the jin (or kilogram).

Today we bought three jin of butter, not truly thinking through our decision as it was only five yuan. We are now the proud owners of a huge blob of butter.

Sand, Waves and Tanks

The drone was faint; a sound atypical to the beach melody. Propping myself up on my elbows, I scanned the horizon. On a spur of the moment decision, Zach and I decided to shirk campus and flee to the beach for an afternoon. Unlike our last venture south, the weather was on its best behavior. My visual sweep noticed puffy clouds in the pristine sky, docile waves, one languid camel, giggling children following the ebb and flow of the waves and a clump of tanks.

Blue and gray camouflaged tanks.

Hailing from the east, itty bitty red pennants fluttered above hunks of military might. They quickly formed ranks a mere 500 meters from our chunk of paradise. Initially their arrival was disregarded, but eventually beach goers turned their attention from the waves to the new attraction. A few followed the shoreline to get a closer look, myself included. I kept my distance though, snapping photos discreetly as the Chinese tend to get agitated with a foreigner taking photos of their military. Though I consider it ballsy enough to perform combative maneuvers on a tourist beach.

Their stay on the beach was short for they trudged into the ocean, turning from tank to submarine. Red pennants waved in the oceanic breezes.

Serenity resumed.

Thirty minutes later, our beach was stormed. Tanks emerged from the depths, spitting camo-attired soldiers onto the sandy dunes. Men sprinted. Men flopped to their stomachs and crawled. Men barked orders. The beach was eventually secured and the victorious warriors returned to their vessels. However, from the west walked a small group carrying bazookas. Their furtive glances in our direction were comical, especially when the commander barked at them to keep their eyes forward. He kept looking back. I was curious as to whether they had gotten the wrong memo, stormed the wrong beach and were walking as penance for making such an error.

The hybrid vessels returned to the sea, many of them not sounding shipshape and leaving quite the smokescreen in their wake. By this time, the naval carriers had appeared on the horizon, surrounding our portion of the beach.

With the sun setting and satisfied with the D-Day reenactment, we made our way back to campus.

Dusk in the Asian countryside is one of the most peaceful times, plus the miles and miles of rice paddies are beautiful in the waning daylight.

The Chinese Fruit Cake

The variety is vast and the masses go crazy in dispersing the round delicacies, but (for the most part) moon cakes are not yummy treats. We foreigners tend to equate them to the Christmas fruit cake--always given but rarely eaten.

The Moon Festival festivities were boisterous on campus. A huge carnival was held in the campus square, complete with an obnoxious and not-calibrated-correctly sound system and stage acts, which ranged from Chinese pop sing alongs to ballroom dancing.

The highlight was seeing many of our students and experiencing festivities alongside them. We love campus life.

Beach Fail

The directions were sufficient, but the weather was atrocious. We left campus under blue skies and sunshine; ten minutes from the beach, the clouds exploded.

Unlike the typical rain shower, this one did not stop. We had a five minute window to run down the beach, frolic in the waves and hightail it back to the bus stop.

Our expectations of a relaxing day on the oceanfront was thoroughly dashed, but we had a great ending on the journey back to the university. Our san-bon-bon driver found it hysterical that when she hit puddles, we squealed and laughed; thus, she kept hitting the puddles.

The Times Square | Cunjin Park

Our initial plans for a beach day were postponed due to insufficient directions, so we spent a day exploring our new city. After spending a week in the Chinese country devoid of horn bleats and the constant hum of humanity, downtown was a tiny jolt to the system. Neverless, Zhanjiang is leaps and bounds more relaxing and refreshing than Beijing.

 Our first stop was at The Times Square, a misnamed chunk of land that is really the ocean walk for the city. Along the lapping waves of the South China Sea, we strolled enjoying the salty breezes and oceanic sounds.

Cunjin Park was our second stop after an hour bus ride north. The best way to learn the bus system is to jump on one and see where it may take you--we happened to jump on the right one. The park was large and filled with the typical Chinese park attributes. According to our research (which is rather meager for these parts), the highlight is a bridge that every bride is suppose to walk over in meeting her husband.We couldn't read the Chinese signs, so we figured the bridge having the most pictures taken was the magical one.

Right Decision

Within 24 hours of being in Zhanjiang, Zach and I agreed that we made the right decision. Four days later, we are still amazed at our new surroundings and task at hand. Gongdong Ocean University is plopped in the middle of farmland, twenty five minutes from town. The campus is home to 42,000 students and an undetermined number of staff. The campus is by far one of the most beautiful I have ever seen; palm trees tower over the roads with humongous elephant ear plants, exotic flowering bushes and a multitude of unknown foliage filling in the eye level sights. A huge lake welcomes every visitor as they step through the behemoth white marble gate. We have traded smog smeared skies for everlasting blue and puffy white clouds. I can see the ocean from one of the teaching buildings. 
 

Thanks to our Aussie neighbors and fellow coworkers, we are getting a handle on our class schedule and paperwork while learning the insider details of life on campus. Zach and I are dominating the sophomore class with me teaching reading while Zach tackles writing. On the first day of class I ended up in the wrong building and wrong room, subsequently having to walk rather quickly to find the right place. This was rather expected as every freshman year (middle, high school and college) I ended up in the wrong place.

Our new hutong is practically a palace in comparison to our Beijing abode. No longer are we required to use our bed for every imaginable household use. I have never been so excited to see a couch or chairs. Geckos run across our walls while we battle roaches on our floors.

We are not delirious enough to believe there won't be any trouble, as it is China, but at this point life is good.

Eight Years

Eight years ago today I faced Zach and said "I am with you all the way." I have loved the journey, love the current adventure and look forward to the coming years. I married an amazing guy.

Sophomore Teachers

Spending an afternoon in a (different) hotel awaiting transfer to our new campus was not ideal, but we were excited to get our schedules and textbooks. Zach will be teaching sophomore writing and I will be teaching sophomore reading, with a couple master level courses thrown in the mix for both of us. The schedule we were given was completely in Chinese and our FAO (Foreign Affairs Officer) told us to get one of the students to translate it for us. That would be good advice, except we need to know where to go our first day.

Hello, Zhanjiang!

Foregoing the chaos of train travel for the bus, we arrived calm and collect in our new city, Zhanjiang. We chose to come in a day early, splurge on a hotel (an executive suite for $40 USD) and relax before the mayhem of figuring out a new job.

Yangmei Village

Thirty kilometers south of Nanning stands a seventeenth century village, barely touched by the modernization of time. Cobblestone streets, wooden structures hemmed by haphazard brick work, aged women gathered around a pile of garlic, shucking the papery peel while oxen plow fields down the street. It was a first venture for all, and thanks to Mike and Winnie we rode in style--a hired mini van for the day. It was a luxury for us.

We spent our afternoon discovering the delights of this village. I truly could rave about its simplicity, beautiful people and antiquity but words would be paltry and inadequate for this occasion. It was a day to be reminded of how far China has come, yet how much China has lost in its quest to become a world power.

Thanks to our couchsurfing host, Justiny, we spent our evening in the midst of Nanning's famous food street. It is pure chaos highlighted by delectable bites from Guangxi to Vietnam. This was a final great evening in Nanning.