Weekend Jaunt: Maoming

It was a trip two months in the making among some of our closest student friends. Maoming is the hometown of Leo and he had been itching to show it off to us. Thanks to the timing, April was able to enjoy the journey as well.

It was a quick jaunt of a mere 48 hours, but during that time we spent time in the local park where April was able to cuddle with some pandas.

We spent the evening hours perusing a Chinese scroll exhibition at the local library.

We spent our morning enjoying my favorite Guangdong custom, morning tea.

We spent an afternoon at another much bigger park which actually included a mini zoo and obstacle course.

In between the big attractions, we walked, we ate local food and we laughed a lot. It was a great trip and I believe Leo was happy that we enjoyed his hometown so much.

Another End

Yesterday marked the end of another year at GDOU. After two weeks of paper mounds and brown folders strewn about our hutong, we finally handed everything over to the office. Of course it was an ordeal for, unbeknownst to us, a new girl was hired to handle this protocol and she speaks not one word of English. A brilliant decision for one who has to work primarily with foreigners who know minimal Chinese. Nonetheless, walking out with only an empty IKEA bag, I did a jig and proceeded to loudly woohoo upon entering the hutong. It felt good to be done. We celebrated by spending today on the beach of Donghai Dao.

Celebrating Zach

Friends from near and far gathered on our front lawn to celebrate Zach turning twenty nine again. Complete with grilled hamburgers and traditional cookout sides, it was a spectacular culinary event (for many of the attendees had never tasted an actual hamburger.) It was fun to watch people interact for it was an eclectic mixture of those who are a part of our life in Zhanjiang.

Thanks to April's arrival in China, Zach was able to have a funfetti birthday cake. Thanks to a dear friend, Alice, Zach was also able to have a traditional Chinese birthday cake.

Though we feared for rain most of the day, the weather cooperated and we even got to enjoy the spectacular effects of a supermoon.

I am thankful for my husband and I loved hosting a party to celebrate the wonderful man that he is for me and so many others.

April Comes to China

Within a week, we had spent nearly 30 hours on a bus and our butts were feeling it. A day and a half of teaching was a blur, leading to a jaunt to Guangzhou. We were not even in the city for twenty four hours, but it was enough time to see Shaun and pick up our first visitor from America, April.

In a strange twist of events, it was she who met us at the gate for only her flight would be thirty minutes early and there be no lines in customs. Welcome to China, April; it is off to a good start!

Dragonboat Tales: The End

The danger of HeChi never materialized, yet driving through a tunnel on our way back to Zhanjiang was nearly our demise. Even with my eyes closed, my body instinctively knew something was wrong at the exact moment Zach calmly said, "We are going to wreck." I sat up and looked forward, only to see the tunnel wall in front of the windshield. I tensed. Mere inches before a impact, we swerved to the right towards the other side. Mere inches before impact, we swerved to the left. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. The audible gasps from the back of the bus were chilling and the slow motion effect was definitely evident as our large tour bus slithered its way through the tunnel. To this day, I do not know how we did not hit, nor how there were no other cars in the tunnel at that time. Amazingly, the bus driver regained control just as we exited the tunnel, a good thing considering the drop off on the right hand side would have been a terrible end to a great weekend.

As held breaths were exhaled and tense muscles relaxed, the after conversation was interesting. At times I forget what influence driving a vehicle has on a person, such as quick reflexes, reactions and problem solving. The buzz after our near death was how the road was at fault, the rain had made it slick. While plausible in some cases, it did not rain inside that tunnel. Zach and I immediately knew what had happened; our driver had over-corrected. Our suspicion is that he actually dozed off at the wheel, especially since the second bus driver was sitting behind him, playing on his phone. When trying to explain this concept to the students and that many people in America die from the same action, many were quick to brush it off as not possible and exclaim that we were not in that much danger. A bus could never tip over or crash by hitting a wall, was many responses. Nonetheless, the bus driver heard our conversations and, at our next stop, would not look us in the eye. He was extremely diligent during the remainder of the drive and his backup never left his side.

Late afternoon we rolled into GDOU, amid cheers from the boys. As we rolled our duffel across campus in front of the main building, Zach spotted a toilet sitting among construction debris. He jokingly remarked that it looked like our toilet, and even proceeded to walk over and look at it. We had a good laugh that maybe they found that toilet somewhere, stole the seat and put it on our toilet.

The joke was on us, for it was our toilet in the construction heap. A brand new toilet greeted our arrival home. We had no warning, no text messages, no inkling that such a change was taking place in our hutong. We cheered, especially since our Aussie neighbors had bedazzled it for our return. Pigs had flown.

Dragonboat Tales: One Thousand Meters and Cheers

I did not expect to race the 1000m, but after the debacle my participation had garnered the previous day, Fa Hua was using it to the advantage of business promotion. I understood and was fine with it for it meant I got to be in the boat, which was my happy place. However, it had been interesting to see the demeanor of the leaders change from the previous day. They watched the GDOU team, the varsity team per se, not get a second look, yet the junior varsity members who had been shunted to the commercial team were having multiple photos taken and frequently stopped by curious race watchers to ask who they were and where they were from. At one point, Zach leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I think you may be on the GDOU team next year." We will see.

One thousand meters is quite long, but I felt as though my team performed better than we had the previous day. If anything, our rudder guy figured out his role and we did not get disqualified. I did not race the finals, but stood on the dock cheering wildly. By the end of the heat, my team had taken third, while GDOU had tied for fifth. It was an exhilarating and proud moment.

Eighty four teams had taken part in the two day festival. Alongside the river bank, before the pavilion, each team stood bearing their flag and wearing their colors for the closing ceremony. The ceremony was the typical boring Chinese pomp and circumstance where everyone, and I do mean everyone, gets a prize. Near the beginning, my team declared that I would get the award. I responded that it was not necessary, but they all smiled and said, "But we are famous!" I relented. 

I frequently call China the land of unexpected opportunities. From Zach's moment of television show fame to us being VIPs for a bread shop grand opening, we get to do things that would never happen in America and we are so thankful. Being part of the dragonboat team was one of those moments for me; receiving the prize for my team is another. It is a memory that still brings a smile to my face and goosebumps to my arms.

When our name was called, I climbed to the stage and was hustled towards the mayor by the emcee. We shook hands and he gave the repeated "welcome to China" greeting. I took the banner and cardboard fake check in hand, then turned to face the crowd. The sight before me was stunning. Hundreds of people, many from either the Maonan or Zhuang minorities, bedecked with traditional clothes and holding ornate flags faced me. Behind them was the river, cityscape and hundreds of spectators. It was a beautiful sight.

As soon as I turned and smiled, the crowd erupted into applause and cheers. I was stunned. I was shocked. I was honored. The representative for the third place 500m was an older man, who was very excited to be in the limelight with a foreigner.

After so many more photographs, well wishes, repeated requests to return next year and a kiss from my greatest cheerleader, the festival was finished and the masses dispersed.

Alongside Rong Kun and Lin, we spent the evening watching representatives from the Maonan and Zhuang minorities have a sing-off at the cultural hall. Having been to a few Zhuang villages, I was familiar with the tradition, but my counterparts had not. It was really funny to watch Lin and Rong Kun fret about not being able to understand the language. 

We ended up having a front row seat to the concert because because during the previous night's dancefest we had met and danced with the director of the HeChi culture center. She was shocked yet elated when we arrived to watch the performance. After nearly two and a half hours of singing banter, we needed to leave. The director took us backstage to meet the performers, a chance for me to admire the intricate needlework on the traditional hats and dress. They are beautiful and I kept saying so. 

In their excitement, the four of us ended up on stage, serenaded with a traditional dragonboat melody. The emcee, wearing the brightest yellow pants I have ever seen in China, was besotted with us and kept asking questions in Chinese, but not allowing enough time for us or Rong Kun and Lin to respond. We ended up in a fit of laughter, with the emcee eventually joining us. We were still giggling as we left and made our way to the hotel. 

Dragonboat Tales: Paint, Pain, Paparazzi and a Party

It is a beautiful custom, one that I am glad to have seen from the seat of a dragonboat. Before any boat is paddled or raced, the local dignitaries walk to each boat and ceremoniously paint the eyes of the dragon to bring it life and strength. It is not just a dabble of paint, but quite the time consuming ritual. Since our team was in the first race of the day, we were sitting in the boat as the ceremony took place, surrounded by many exploding firecrackers and fireworks.

The race of the day was 500m, a morning preliminary followed by a late afternoon final. It was a beautiful morning to be on the water; my team was ready and our run was fast and hard. It was exhilarating. Though, as we crossed the finish line under the number two sign rather than the number one where we started, a thought flitted through my mind whether the detour would haunt our future. It did. We were disqualified from the finals. The weeks leading to the race, I had the mini-fear that the foreigner would be blamed for blunders or losses. Thanks to the rudder man, I was in the clear, though his crestfallen demeanor for the rest of the day was hard to see. Disqualification sucks.  

 

After exiting the boat and before learning about disqualification, mayhem erupted upon the dock. Zach said that as soon as I paddled out with the boys, photographers came running. My return fed the frenzy and at one point we had at least twelve cameras in our faces, complete with microphones and a myriad of questions being thrown at us, all in Chinese. My teammates were bewildered with the paparazzi, a couple of the boys stepped up to be impromptu translators and I answered what I could in Chinese. Through the many questions and hundreds of photographs, the funniest question was directed over and over towards Zach as to why he was not in the boat instead of me. His initial answers varied between the fact that I love boating to I enjoy being on the water. Eventually he simply stated, "She is stronger than me." It drew a lot of laughter and smiles. 

  

The impromptu post race press conference came to a quick close when the Fa Hua spirited us away to the waiting bus. As we loaded and I faced the boys, a large cheer erupted with the English phrase, "We are famous!" Lin looked at us with wide eyes and said, "I did not believe something like that could happen."

The GDOU had made the afternoon finals, yet my team was told to stay in the hotel for the rest of the afternoon. After the previous day's confinement, Zach and I knew we would be driven insane with another day of nothing. While everyone took their afternoon nap, we rebelled, sneaked out of the hotel like rebellious teenagers and spent the afternoon walking the riverfront, enjoying the festival and eventually the final race where GDOU took the top honors. It was fun to have a different perspective of the race and the leaders did not learn of our dissidence until they saw us emerge from a sanmo as the team bus returned to the hotel. Nothing was said then or ever.

After dinner, we were dropped off at the cultural square for the evening dance party. Once again the leaders made a proclamation that we should not join the festivities but rather watch from the side for we were unaware of  customs and etiquette. We laughed and told Lin, "Watch this."

We stepped into the square and for the next two hours, it was pandemonium. Zach and I were pushed and pulled in all directions, all groups vying for our attention and sub-par dance moves. Bewildered, the boys watched us be immediately swallowed by the sea of the oh-so-friendly people. They shrugged their shoulders and followed. The leaders followed them; proclamations instantly forgotten.

Days later, scrolling through my five hundred pictures from the weekend, I laughed so hard upon seeing pictures (not taken by me) of our dignified leaders dancing, complete with Rambo-esque headbands. I could not help but think that maybe a little time with two foreigners can be a healthy thing; if anything, to show that the world is not completely evil and scary...especially in the home country.

In an evening of chaos, there was only a moment of weirdness. A moment when a creepy man tried to dance really, really close to me. Immediately, I knew something was wrong and backed away. He tried to follow, but Zach swooped in from my left, Fa Hua swooped in from the right to block his path and two or three other teammates grabbed my arms, created a barrier around me and moved me to another part of the party. It was chivalry at its finest and I was grateful for the help.

The night was spectacular. I loved seeing the boys engage with so many people. I loved seeing them laugh and have actual fun. I loved the hospitality of the town. I loved being uninhibited. I loved the throwback reminder of Bubba parties long past. I loved dancing for hours, being a big sweaty mess by night's end.

As we walked backed to the hotel, the smiles were gargantuan. We kept hearing snippets of conversations, phrases such as "so fun", "I have never done anything like that before", "that was a party." Zach and I smiled, content that finally some Chinese students experienced a typical western college weekend party.
 

The bonus of the night was seeing ourselves on the local news. Even though GDOU had won the 500m race, they did not make the news, much to their chagrin. After a long day, we fell into bed exhausted, content yet bewildered by the insta-fame in a small Guangxi village.

Dragonboat Tales: Travel and Testyness

Guangxi will always hold a special place in my heart for it was my first experience in China. It is the place I fell in love with a people and culture. I always feel as though it welcomes me into its lush green valleys and towering limestone peaks with whispers of, "Welcome back, be reminded of where your journey began." Guangxi never ceases to amaze me with its scenery and hospitality; I find comfort and contement within its boundaries. This journey, I got to see a bus full of boys be shocked and amazed by its beauty for the first time.

Nestled within the iconic Guangxi mountains, HeChi was a hidden gem. Days later, and after a good look at a map, we were nowhere near Vietnam nor Yunnan. That is what I get for listening to geographically challenged PE majors instead of doing my own research. In my defense, I did not even know the name of the town we were going to until we arrived because I immediately agreed to a dragonboat race and asked no other questions.

Travel consumed our first day. Immediately we realized that foreigners were not a normal sight when the front desk worker had no idea what a passport was or even how to photocopy the appropriate pages for the local police. Zach had to walk her through the steps, and even then, the next day we had round two when the police could not believe that we were residents rather than tourists. It is baffling that a visa written in Chinese cannot be understood by Chinese.

Our first full day in HeChi consisted of a morning workout on the river and an afternoon confined to the hotel. Zach and I were befuddled and pissed at the announcement that no one could leave the hotel. Lies of "it's dangerous", "there are customs the team will not understand", etc. poured forth from the three leaders' mouths. First, Zach and I learned early on in our residency that "it's dangerous" is the second favorite phrase behind "have you eaten?" The Chinese are riddled with fear of everything; it is paralyzing. Plus, it is also a front when the leaders do not want to do something. They wanted to sleep, not babysit a bunch of boys.

Second, it was demeaning. They were treating us like middle schoolers, knowing full well we our travel history. When Zach mentioned that he had been to twenty eight countries, one leader retorted that when Zach had traveled to one hundred countries then he could go out on his own. Zach quickly retorted that why should we follow a Chinese man who had not even been to Guangxi, but the foreigners had been there three times.

We simmered and agreed that we would not leave the hotel. Zach quickly stated that he would not be paying for any of the trip once they had made the decision to treat him as if he was on the team. It was a long afternoon of nothing. Leaving for dinner, we learned that many of the boys had left to visit a museum. We looked at each other and silently with-that-look agreed the hotel confinement was a one day deal.

 

After dinner, we spent some time alongside the river, playing on the dragonboats and relaxing. Of course, one guy ended up in the water with a cell phone in hand. Nonetheless, it was the serenity before racing mayhem and the descent of the paparazzi. 

Dragonboat Tales: On the Sidelines of Chikan

It was a bummer that I could not compete in the Chikan dragon boat races, but I nursed my sadness beneath blue skies and sunshine, my toes in the sand and directly on the front lines of action thanks to arriving with the GDOU team bus.

The day was fantastic in so many ways. The races were spectacular to watch, complete with a wet exit on the very first race. Laughing, joking and cheering with the boys, as well as so many of the other teams, made the day pass quickly. Of course, the paparazzi and the hundreds of photos taken of us and with us was entertainment at its finest. One photographer took an incredible amount of snapshots, so many that even other people began to comment about his obsession.

 

My day's end, GDOU had done well and the awards ceremony went on forever, in true Chinese fashion. Zach and I got pulled into many group shots and even ended up with a medal or two around our necks. Success by proxy. The funniest sight of the awards was seeing the girl teams, members who were fifteen/sixteen years old, hauling away a huge vat of wine as their winnings with huge grins on their faces. We laughed so hard because that is a sight never to be seen in America.

After a celebratory dinner on campus, all headed to their respective abodes to prepare for round two -- Guangxi. 

Dragonboat Tales: A Teaser

Pictures are crowding my camera's SD card and tales keep multiplying. It is the week focused on the very traditional Chinese celebration: honoring the poet who committed suicide in a river to protest government shenanigans. I am still researching how suicide and dragon boats correlate.

Currently, we are enjoying time in the quaint village of HeChi, which is nestled within the iconic Guangxi mountains. I can practically see Vietnam from my hotel room (in a Sarah Palin kind of way.) The start to the week was filled with loads of grading and finals preparation, but we have slipped off the title of teacher for the past few days to enjoy this festival, as spectators and, soon, me as a participant.

Our day in ChiKan was incredible and we are having fun in Guangxi (though we are traveling very Chinese which guarantees crazy stories.) Yesterday, on our way here, we were informed that out of the 500 pictures taken of us during the ChiKan festival, a couple had made the local newspaper. We were able to locate one via internet, though the other one or two remain elusive.

We find it funny that this was the chosen picture, especially since we know we are talking about how many photos the photographer was taking of us.

In our internet perusal, we also found this gem and had to save it for we spent a lot of time watching this woman while standing on the beach. Truly, the picture does not even capture the magnitude of her hat and its measures to protect itself from the apocalyptic sunshine. It was near hot air balloon caliber. 

When I finally get to wade through my photos and compose my erratic and ever expanding thoughts, post competition, the tales will be told. Oh, how I love China, the land of weird and spectacular opportunities.

An Evening Concert

We are so lucky to be surrounded by some interesting and talented people, which includes our Ukrainian neighbors who are concert pianists. Many nights when wandering home from a walk or an event, we will sit on the stairs outside their apartment to listen to them practice. 

Once a semester they give a performance and we try to attend for it the closest thing to "artsy" that we can find in China. This time, we were able to enjoy the performances of their students as well. It was a beautiful night to appreciate the arts and we even ended up at the after concert party, complete with red velvet cake and Russian lemon tea.

GDOU Swimming Competition

The week leading to the competition was wrought with miscommunication and a lot of nos. Rumors of cancelled class circulated long before we got the official word, which was at 8:37pm the night before via email. Encouragement for my participation in the competition was high from the Physical Education faculty, but when I went to the Foreign Language Department to ask to join their team, since I technically work for them and would like to represent them, I was met with continual nos and no ways. A PE faculty member told me to show up on the morning of the competition and they would welcome me into their faculty with elation.

It was a beautiful morning for a race and, true to predictions, I arrived and was immediately signed up for the 50m freestyle and the 100m freestyle. Thankfully, a former student, Jacqueline, was there in the wee hours of the morning and helped navigate the cumbersome bureaucracy that seems to permeate Chinese competitions. I was told my race would be after ten, which at 8:30 in the morning seems eons away. I chatted with students, I cheered on the competitiors.

A handful of minutes past nine, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, Jacqueline frantically waving at me. I turned my full attention to her in time to hear, "Your race is next! Your race is next!" I did not have my swimsuit on nor had I stretched or warmed up. I ran to the locker room, changed quicker than I ever could have imagine when donning a swimsuit and ran back to the pool deck.

They were holding the race for me.

I jumped in for the starting position and as I was wrangling my goggles on, frantically yelled, "Which race is this?!"

"50m freestyle!" shouted Jacqueline.

The gun shot. I pushed off the wall.

Ten meters, with my head turned for a breath, I noticed via peripheral vision the other teachers to my right and, in that split second of breathing, I saw that not one was actually doing freestyle. During the next forty meters my inner brain voice yelled, "YOU ARE IN THE WRONG RACE! YOU ARE IN THE WRONG RACE!"

I touched the wall, popped up and yelled, "I just did the wrong race! They were doing breaststroke!" These two comments garnered a round of chuckles and Jacqueline quickly responded that I, in fact, had done the right race, while the other teachers did not know how to freestyle and actually thought freestyle meant you could do whatever stroke one wanted.

The even funnier part to this morning tale was that as I had left our apartment, Zach groggily said, "Call me when you know what time you are racing and I will come see you." Since I barely made it to the pool myself, Zach missed race one.

After lunch and an afternoon nap, Zach and I walked back to the pool for round two. On our way we were stopped repeatedly by random students congratulating me on being "so fast." News travels fast in GDOU, and upon arrival at the pool, I was quickly signed up for a third race, a relay with the PE faculty.

I won the 100m race by at least 20m, and ended up getting second place in the relay. I was nervous that our showing would be worse for our first two swimmers were not quick and a lot of ground needed to be made by the time it came my turn. Zach excitedly relayed the play by play afterwards, saying that we were 30m behind when I began and I cut it down to 5m.

By day's end, I had sealed two first place finishes and one second, with the biggest surprise of the day being that that winning means money. My reaction when learning that I would end up nearly 400 yuan richer was met with laughter from students and faculty. With my winnings, Zach and I celebrated with fried rice for dinner; the perfect end to a fantastic and exhilarating day.