Tales of (Old Man) Football

While I tend to regularly post about Zach's coaching and the women's team achievements, I rarely give updates on his personal prowess on the pitch. 

Yes, Zach still plays the game. 

Though, by his own words, the current playing strategy is that the mind knows what to do, but the body lags....and the knees are a bit cranky. 

As with every semester, he plays competitively with the teachers team in the campus competition. However, before the opening game began this year, a rather serious discussion took place. In Zach's retelling of their initial huddle, a fellow teacher lamented that the student opponents remain the same age, but their ages increase. By a quick calculation, it was declared that the average age of the teachers team is 42. Zach said there was a collective round of 'ai-yahs' and groans, alongside a few shoulder shrugs. With that stated, they turned to walk onto the field. 

The grizzled grit of the aged ready to take on the bravado of the youth. 

Watching these games are always delightful in the way that amateur sports can be, especially in a culture where foundational skill building is disregarded in favor of acting akin to the professionals. Every player who steps on a pitch in China is a Messi or Ronaldo; though the drama and rolling around on the field is mimicked the best. This makes for extremely comedic viewing and ample bemusement opportunities for the teachers, who stand over the floppy, young whippersnappers shaking their heads.

This semester's campus competition coincided with the Shenzhen women's tournament, which ended up being fortuitous for Zach. In one of the earlier campus games, he took a few knocks. It was not an overly physical game. However, many guys like the opportunity to take on the foreigner, not realizing that Zach is quite fearless and has a bit more muscle than them. The goalie in this game realized that it would have been wiser to go after the ball instead of Zach when he was making a run on goal. Zach got all ball, the goalie got all Zach. It took the goalie a while to stand up. 

However, this was not the fall that resulted in a mandatory pause from active play. That came in the second half, when Zach was late in a challenge and the opposing player ended up on top of him. Zach was promptly shown a yellow card ("I earned it," he declared from the field.) Four days later, it was confirmed that he had severely cracked two ribs in that tackle. It was not a career-ending injury, but it has taken about seven weeks to heal to a point that any movement does not elicit ample groans. 

It also was not a season-ending injury, as the trend this semester was to draw out every single competition to an obnoxious length. The Shenzhen tournament that was scheduled to be three weeks became seven weeks. The campus competition was to be six weeks but became ten. We bantered that it was a good thing that China was not hosting the World Cup this year as the month-long competition would have become three under the current trend.

Zach was able to play the final match against the Management major boys. These guys know Zach well and he knows them well, so he was happy he was well enough to play with them. The management crew was aware of the rib injury, resulting in not many challenges towards Zach. However, late in the second half, during a corner kick, one boy's elbow inadvertently struck Zach's ribs. Zach doubled over and the boy panicked. Zach was fine after a few breaths, but it was rather endearing at how horrified the boy was about his errant elbow. Zach calmed him down and made sure that all knew that it was absolutely unintentional. 

Zach's football calendar has finished for the semester, so the footy bag has been aired, disinfected, and stored until next season. Now, his free time is consumed by enjoying his new birthday present and yelling at the professionals.

2025 Not-ABCs

The year 2025 will join the Banker annals as one of the deepest devastation and the highest joys. The soul-wrenching losses and life reckonings faced within these twelve months discombobulated us in the most unexpected ways. Yet, some of our greatest travels and dearest reunions took place this year. 

We stepped into 12 countries, 16 American states, five Chinese provinces, and a convention center to join the masses in a galaxy far, far away. 

From point to point, we flew 76,720.62km/41,471.73m.

We meandered 21 airports, five of which were new to us.

We sat on 26 airplanes.

We trundled along on eleven trains (excluding our random jaunts to nearby spots in China.)

In a cross-the-USA road trip, calculations not including our random meanderings, we drove 5034.09km/3128.11m.

We stayed in 19 hotels, nine houses, and one ferry that was more like a cruise ship than an actual ferry.

We traveled six times to meet someone. 

We moved once. 

We planned one funeral.

We survived the eighth snowiest January on record for Kentucky, with snow on the ground for 21 days.

We survived five typhoons.

Zach and the women's team participated in three football tournaments and finished 5th in the Province in their division. 

I wrote eight blog posts...

With such a dichotomized confluence of life, we felt emotions deeply and seized moments fervently. It was a really hard year physically and emotionally, and to unravel it all has been a task. In years past, our annual review has been in the ABC format. Such a format seems inadequate, even a bit daunting for this year. With so few blog posts written, it is hard to highlight the best of 2025. Therefore I am taking a month-by-month approach this time. Thus, here be the rundown of our wild year:  

January

Day one of the new year was spent in Macau hanging out with our friend, Esme, who we had not seen since our days at GDOU. Four days later, we landed in Vietnam and walked into spectacular hugs from the To clan, then screamed alongside them as Vietnam won the ASEAN Cup. We had barely returned to our hotel room when we received the call that completely flipped our world. There is absolutely no preparation for a phone call bearing horrific news. Listening to my mom hysterically sob on the phone as she frantically tried to tell me that my dad had dropped dead in the snow while using a blower to clear the sidewalk is a seared memory. Our elation turned to devastation. We headed to the motherland amid insane winter weather. In the days following my dad's funeral, Zach and I were with our respective mothers. We joked that our weeks apart were connected by our continual wade through paperwork — mine with a death, his with a divorce. It was some of our hardest days, yet there were unique moments and fun. We played in the snow with our nieces. Mom and I realized that cleaning/organizing is our mutual superpower and therapy, we are wickedly vicious at Rummikub, her macaroni soup remains a comfort food, and historical rabbit trails are our jam. A promised jaunt to IKEA with Aunt Becky and mom became reality (complete with assembly of bought products afterwards.) We hung out with family and friends longer than the fleeting moments that are typical during our summers, and we drove to the moon tree only to discover that it had been cut down. 

February

This was the month that felt like the opening of a Tale of Two Cities — it was the best of times, it was the worst of times, with a dash of comedic mishaps. We departed Kentucky bound for Thailand, hoping for a week to reset ourselves. It began with six airports, five airplanes, one connection, one major rerouting, four books, and one taxi. It involved three days of food poisoning. We did obtain a vague tan line before returning to the adopted motherland and another semester. It was a discombobulated latter half. I feel we are in agreement that there was a touch of survival mode to this month. 

March

Birthday month was a much needed beautiful reminder of life. Students showered me with notes and trinkets, while dear friends kept surprising me with adventures and gifts. We also had the delight of hanging out with another GDOU friend, Dario, who was in town for one day. On another day, we were the token foreigners at the TCM hospital during a fundraising endeavor. We had no money to give, but had a fun time meeting new people. Women's football was highlighted in the national sports magazine, with my husband (in his iconic pink socks) printed in the middle of a page. Zhongshan was stunning in color and vivid night views.    

April 

It was a packed month. The women's provincial tournament was Zach's focus for the first half the month, where they placed fifth for the entirety of Guangdong in their division. Mid-month, we boarded a plane bound for Tokyo for three specific reasons: DisneySea, Star Wars Celebration, and Kaden To. Three of our favoritest things collided in this adventure. We completed our unintended quest to visit all Disneys in the world; receiving a pile of stickers from Guest Relations to mark our achievement. We joined 99,998 other people to celebrate all things from that galaxy far, far away by doing all the things — pictures, panels, secret previews, and swapping swag. We celebrated Kaden being an adult and flying by himself to a new country. It was an incredible week. Intermingled within all of the big were bike adventures, reunions with friends, visits to art museums, and a campus graduation. 

May

We began the month in Taiwan to hang out with SJ.  It was more football, where Zach's team was wildly outmatched by former professional players in a tournament in Shenzhen. We held our annual Kentucky Derby Hat Competition with our students. I attended some local festivals. We met Emma in Nansha to hang out with Mazu in a gigantic temple complex. We signed contracts for another year of employment and celebrated it with gusto. 

June

We spent our Dragonboat festival in Hong Kong meeting Portland friends who had spent the month gallivanting about our adopted motherland. We celebrated the end of another semester. We celebrated Zach's birthday in all the ways we could, especially by living the day in so many time zones as we made our way to Scandinavia. We spent the last days of the month meandering the waterways of Copenhagen and Oslo, watching a football match at a club owned by a previous Timbers player (we had no idea!), bouncing from bakery to bakery, gazing at Munch artwork, sussing out all the live music we could find (including a street battle of bands which was epic!), paying homage to some literary giants, strolling some cemeteries, hopping on and off numerous ferries, and eating pizza beneath a gloriously bright midnight sky like the locals.  

July

We began the month in Sweden and ended it in Wyoming — with so much in between. We made our pilgrimage to ABBA and IKEA. We watched the women's Euros in a park with locals. We jumped the Atlantic to begin our stateside summer shenanigans. We had a reunion with Uncle Mike and Aunt Nancy, while also meeting the newest family member, Easton. We dealt with the aftermath of Zach's parents' divorce finalization. We faced Dad's first birthday without him, but honored his legacy with a large funnel cake and an evening watching the fair's tractor pull. We plotted our westward road trip, then started it on a stunningly beautiful day. We stopped at all the largest roadside attractions, paid homage to the inventor of Monopoly, followed a portion of Laura Ingalls Wilder's journey, jaunted along Route 66, dealt with a flat tire thanks to roadside angel, Kevin, watched baseball at the Field of Dreams, gawked at incredible natural scenery, stopped so much to marvel at nature, and stood speechless at the foot of Dignity of Earth and Sky only to deal with an incredible storm afterwards that had the grass laying flat and car inhabitants wondering if Mally (our modern day wagon) would be swept away as well. We also forged our own path along the Oregon Trail, pondered whether the Crazy Horse statue would ever be completed, gushed at the cute prairie dogs, and used Mom's National Park access with wild abandon. 

August

We began the month concluding our road trip. We waited for Old Faithful, chased the fluffy cows, spotted a bear in the wild (a first!), found a ghost town which had been ghosted by the state park system, drove through an active manhunt, found a Buddha haven, ate baked potatoes in Idaho, and meandered our way along the Columbia River. We celebrated our arrival on the west coast with a full day of Portland essentials. After mom departed, we shifted into Portland summer mode — hikes, water adventures, picnics, live music, an indie movie premiere, football, author readings, and so many hours with dear friends.   

September

With our semester starting late, we gained a bonus week in Portland. It was filled with final dinners, senior football matches, the annual taste test (Oreos), and final moments on the water. In the adopted motherland, it was a month of tumult and typhoons. Immediately upon our return, we were evicted from our flat and made to move to the building next door. It was a mad dash to move a mere 20 meters in between typhoons. We put out a plea for students to help; they rallied and were the mighty force one wants in trying times.

October

This was a month of movement and a discombobulated school schedule. We began the month by returning to our Chinese hometown, Zhanjiang, and having a slew of reunions. It was an incredible time to reminisce; there was even a typhoon to remind us of blustery times and destroyed hutongs. We ended the month by jaunting about China to cross off some adopted motherland bucket list items. We experienced the fakest Chinese tourist attractions in Chenzhou, stood in awe of the Zhangjiajie mountains, ambled through stunning caves at the Yugang Grottoes, and discovered the delights of Datong. In between these were dinner with students, a musical in Guangzhou, and, as always, some football — this time at a 3v3 tournament in Guangzhou. 

November

While Zach was in Guangzhou at the footy tournament, Emma and I finished rambling around Datong on the first few days, then we switched travel partners to travel Luoyang with Mayor. Exploring ancient tombs, temples, and caves filled our days. We actually started teaching again after military training, took graduation photos with students, performed for a local TV show about the local Traditional Chinese Medicine hospital, and feasted for Thanksgiving. Zach's football team had their Provincial tournament in-between our travels and Thanksgiving, and then we actually had a first this year — our beloved Hundough restaurant had a Thanksgiving buffet that included turkey and the traditional sides. A few students and friends joined us for the evening and it was wonderful. Zach declares this was the highlight of the year for him. 

December

It was the month to moderately slow down. We made our annual holiday pilgrimage to Hong Kong, sat around tables with friends for slow meals, celebrated Christmas in the ways we can, and I finished a quilt. We sat on our rooftop to bid farewell to a very full and exciting, yet tumultuous and grief-stricken year. 

An Unexpected Use

A couple years ago, a Chinese friend and I were strolling through a local village laneway when I pointed out the peculiar habit of residents bricking their windows in a specific block of apartments. I commented that fire safety was an illusion around here. She grabbed my arm, leaning in, said, "That is an ash apartment!" 

"A what?!" I replied.

"An ash apartment; an apartment for the dead."  

As expected, my interest was piqued and the following conversation was riveting. 

Burying the dead is not cheap for most of the world. However, for the areas that are deeply devoted to ancestry worship, the funerals can become obnoxiously extravagant. As expected, there have been many edicts handed down through the years to curb such behavior, as funerals can be a conduit for corruption funds. Nonetheless, there is still a lot of money to be spent and made when the time comes to send off the one who will now receive annual offerings in exchange for luck, prosperity, and health. With rising costs, in quintessential Chinese fashion, people started circumventing the expected. For as the funeral costs were increasing the housing market was nearly bankrupting. The ghost cities frequently seen on global media began to find a new purpose. With tomb plots running between 150,000-300,000 yuan, it was cheaper for families to buy apartments to house the ashes of their loved ones. 

Of course, there was not grand fanfare with this new trend. From what I understand, many living residents were not aware of their new neighbors...until Qingming arrived and the lifeless apartment became a hub of activity, with burnt incense wafting on the air. As expected, issues arose. Superstitions run rampant here, especially when it comes to housing (for example: it is believed that corner apartments harbor ghosts) and, as much as Chinese want the blessings of the dead, they have a deep fear of the dead. It is complicated. 

When I mentioned this funeral trend in a class days after learning about it, one student piped up that an entire area of his hometown was designated as ash apartments. It was lucrative and solved real estate investor issues. 

I have seen a number of ash apartments since that initial conversation. Bricked windows are the easiest tell, however continually closed curtains are another. This past Qingming holiday, I observed a steady stream of people, offerings in hand, entering a building next to the coffee shop we were enjoying one afternoon.

Alas, minor trends which become major trends are bound to garner the eyes of officials. Thus, during the most recent big meeting, it was decreed that bone ash apartments (guhui fang) are now illegal to store cremated remains. The law went into effect mere days before the recent Qingming holiday. How this mandate will be monitored or enforced is unknown; some netizens joked that GPS trackers will now be attached to urns. However, I am more curious to see how Chinese will circumvent the ruling. For if there is anything I have learned living here: there is a law, then there are the 27 ways around the law.

Offerings in Abundance

This afternoon, on a meandering stroll through Zhongshan laneways, we stumbled upon an entire street devoted to offerings. Harking back to the days of the Silk Road, it is not unusual to see entire laneways filled with shops selling the exact same wares. It was disconcerting when we initially arrived in Asia, but now I appreciate the easy access to a concentrated array of similar products within a concise space. 

This lane was filled with everything a person would need to burn or present in tribute to their ancestors, and it was teeming with people. We were bewildered. Curious, we stopped to chat with a shopkeeper, who explained to us that offerings were not required on the actual Qingming day; any time during this month is deemed acceptable. The official three-day holiday, it seems, has largely become a time for travel, while families reserve other weekends for paying their respects.  As a result of this shift, the living were fascinating to watch today in their shopping spree and the products available were vast. 

The large, colorful bags filled with ghost money were the hot item. A couple of laobans were stuffing and stapling as fast as they were capable. One woman had chosen a stack of fake bills for her relative, which prompted commentary from us when we read the bold, all-caps English: HELL BANK NOTES. Unfortunately, she was in a rush so a photograph was unable to be snapped.

We spent most of our time perusing the numerous cardboard boxes holding lifestyle choices. From banquet settings to sports cars to cell phones to recliners to pajamas, practically every daily life item possible has a paper copy in these shops. A few favorite finds today were the stash of mahjong tables, complete with game pieces, as well as the herd of white horses.  

The strange find of the day was this photo display board that had been filled with folded bills for the dead (except for the one true, living currency). This is rather taboo, but it did instigate the conversation of whether this location had been a tomb at one time. Here...one never knows. 

Sweep the Tombs

This past weekend was the annual three-day holiday, Qingming, which is the Chinese memorial day for the dead and is probably the most intriguing of Chinese holidays to me. The essence of the holiday is to 'sweep the tombs'; clean, bring offerings, and startle the soul of the dead with a rousing round of firecrackers to garner attention to what is happening around their eternal resting place. For as Richard Lloyd Parry wrote in his book, Ghosts of the Tsunami, "At the heart of ancestor worship is a contract. The food, drink, prayers, and rituals offered by their descendants gratify the dead, who in turn bestow good fortune on the living." The fascinating appeal of this holiday is that it showcases the vast range of belief systems held by the living. There is a great tug between what was and what is; generational chasms with a good dash of locality. Even as we have lived here, we have seen the shift in sentiments and customs associated with the holiday. 

When we lived in Zhanjiang, we spent many Qingming holidays riding our bikes throughout the surrounding villages in order to watch the rituals. All we had to do was point our bikes in the direction of billowing smoke and soon we would find a family honoring their dead or the remnants of those who were quick to honor then dash for the nearest lunch spot, leaving burnt yellow paper and singed paper possessions in their wake. 

Now, the offerings burnt for those dwelling in the afterlife have increased in value and size. The paper effigies of homes, cars, phones, shoes, and even a modern-day chariot bear the mark of current name brands and have the opulence of a king. Gone are the days of grandpa having to make due with paper money; now he has an iPhone connected to the current mobile payment platforms.  

As expected, technology has changed the observances. Many individuals find it easier to pay someone to make the offerings while livestreaming it. For a time, even online kowtowing took place instead of in-person. Yet, my favorite change has been the increased glimpses into family holiday procedures. There are now endless videos posted of families trudging through mountainous countryside in search of their beloved; with one participant usually on the phone talking to the family elder (plopped at home) to get directions. 

The snark in these clips are on-point, with at least one family member remarking that the elder has gone senile or another pointing out that the tree marker has long been chopped to make way for a high speed railway line. Last year, my favorite video was of a family arriving at their ancestor plot to discover that the tomb had already been swept. There was substantial wailing and pleas for the ancestor to ignore "that" family and bless "this, the true family" instead. I feel it was a stressful year for the actual family. I also wonder if the other family had a rubbish year of luck and fortune, or did they see the viral video and panic at the mistake. 

The trends of this year involved dogs, robot dogs, and drones flying roasted pigs to burial sites. 

Qingming never disappoints. For those who honor it, the stakes are high for the luck and prosperity to flow forth in the coming year. For those of us who observe it, it is with fascination and admiration. May the ancestors truly appreciate the grand efforts made on their behalf. 

Campus Peek: The Cats

When we moved to this campus, we were delighted to discover an entire feline population lived here as well. It was quickly obvious that the campus cats were celebrities, for the students loved, and continue to love, being protectors and paparazzi. There are even two organizations on campus to handle cat affairs. (Though, according to campus gossip, one organization is a front for cat fund embezzlement, which has caused some tetchy cooperation.)  Nonetheless, our campus feline stars are well-fed, well-loved, and well-documented. 

Yet, it is a mutually beneficial arrangement. The cats are therapy for the students. Though they are very much aware of their god-ness, our cats do deem it acceptable to be petted and watched at their whim. There are even times when humans or chosen for a leg-wind or lap-snuggle. It is not uncommon to see a student on a bench, bewildered to be the chosen napping location and contemplating the how-do-I-extract-myself-from-this-situation. However, with such coexistence, it is common to have at least a handful of students heading to the hospital for a round of the rabies vaccine due to scratches. 

Over the years, the cat community has ebbed and flowed in size and territory. We have celebrated kittens, rejoiced in adoptions, worried about sickness, and mourned deaths. They have become fixtures on our walks, especially to and from class. Their antics make the walk unpredictable; our current favorite being the splotchy, dark furred lass who regally plops beside the fountain and howls at all who walk by - either singing the song of her water kin or regaling all with her lamentations of having to go to class.

This semester, our campus cats have become a bit more brazen in their explorations. Early last month, I saw students post on Wechat cats meandering into their classrooms, especially in Building One. The pictures and videos were hysterical. One snapshot showed a teacher removing the cat from the classroom, handling it as though it was a dirty diaper. Another featured a cat who chose to plop on the laptop keyboard and refuse to budge. One video captured the iconic behavior of batting everything off the desk, followed by a textbook chew for good measure. 

During one morning class in late March, Zach quickly walked into my room and declared, "I have been chosen." 

I was baffled, as were my students. 

He smiled and said, "A cat is in my room." 

The Chinese collective 'ahhhh' was exclaimed, followed by a dash over to take a peek.

Jealousy abounded. We were shocked this one had decided to prowl up three stories. However, Zach said it took a thorough cat scan of the room and deemed it a worthy nap spot for the remainder of class. Sadly, it has not returned. 

We adore our campus cats and are grateful for the moments of whimsy and distraction they provide on a daily basis. 

Shelved Story: A Weekend Journal

With Zach in Guangzhou, I have had some enjoyable adventures. On Friday, I joined Queen and Ivy for a jaunt to the Zhongshan Art Museum. Last semester, we had planned to view another exhibition together, but upon our arrival, we found the museum closed for that afternoon. We joked that if we showed up again to barred doors, it was a definite sign of deterrent. To our delight, the doors were wide open and we sauntered in to gaze upon a curated selection of women-crafted art. 

Over the past year, I have been making an effort to see all art exhibits in the area. All Zhongshan museums are free to enter, so it seems rather silly not to take advantage of such a treat. As a result of this, a few pieces I had already seen, but it was interesting to see how they were shown based in this setting. 

Our time in the museum was fantastic. The art was varied and Queen and Ivy are delightful conversationalists and witty banterers, thus we laugh so much when together.

On Saturday, I decided to investigate the Zhongshan Public Library. It was in the construction phase when we left on holiday in 2020 and opened in our absence. Since our return, it has been on my list to visit, but I have been hesitant. I have never been allowed to enter a public Chinese library. I have always been barred for a variety of reasons - foreigners are not allowed, my backpack was too big, and even a 'you have on the wrong shoes.' With these experiences, I rather gave up on attempting to do so. However, my students keep telling me that I should go inside (especially for the music room on the fourth floor), so I contacted our school's librarian and asked him if he thought I could do it. He said yes. Thus, I took a blustery stroll to the library and walked in with all the confidence I could muster. I think a guard had an inkling to stop me, but I averted eye contact and kept moving. 

It is a large building with a rather open concept, which is rare for Chinese buildings. While I didn't uncover a section for other languages, I was greatly impressed with the mural selections for the entrance way and each circulation desk backdrop. However, libraries here are not cozy and carry a patina of danger for the security guards continually patrol. 

While I was inside, the storm arrived. We have been having fluke windstorms from the north, great behemoths of gales. This one made BBC news on the eve of its arrival for it brought Beijing to a halt and warnings of people weighing less than 50kgs could be swept away. Of course, netizens responded with great wit, celebrating that the government just gave everyone permission to eat more. 

This one didn't last long, but definitely snapped some trees. I headed to Starbucks and a dinner date. 

I have been wanting to discover new bike trails this semester, but life has been too full or too rainy to do so. Sunday was cool and overcast, thus a good chance to ride. A couple days earlier, I had read about a Chinese map app actually releasing an English interface, to great internet fanfare of expats nationally yelling, "finally!" So, armed with some directional assistance and a free afternoon, I headed towards the Shiqi River. 

Recreational biking has become more prevalent in the past couple of years, thus the government has constructed new paths. I happily joined the one along the river once I found it. It was a fantastic ride, with great people watching and stumbling across a dragon boat park; which made sense as it was in the vicinity of the annual dragon boat competition. 

Chinese have a peculiar relationship with their waterways as water is equally parts feared and revered. It is not uncommon for a vast amount of my students to claim water as their biggest fear. This is definitely not aided by the government's perchance to prolifically stake signs around a body of water (puddle or riverway), declaring that immediate death will happen to anyone who dips a toe in it. Nor do they take great strides in actually teaching swimming. Whereas most global waterways are bobbing with small water crafts, China's water surfaces are barren (except for the odd, battered skiff being controlled by a craggy-faced man, puffing on a dangling cigarette, tasked with some odd-job such as plucking tree blooms from the water.) Yet, the fear seeps into reverence for many who see the waterways as conduits or havens for the local deities. If there is water, there will be at least one Guanyin statue nearby. 

Thus, on my bike ride, I was not shocked to stumble upon a banyan tree hosting a slew of Guanyins and other deities at its base. 

It is not uncommon to see a fisherman amble by a shrine such as this and lay a cigarette or an orange as an offering for good fishing and safety while doing so, though most do not linger nor fish near it. 

I continually love the opportunities to explore our little village. While semesters are busy, especially spring semesters, these moments to be out among the people and find a few delights along the way are some of my dearest times.