There's no place like home

China, the place where muffins are waffles and microwaves are “heat boxes,” (the latter as per our college student Bill) is growing on me. The days are getting longer, flowers are blooming, and for the first time since October, I put on my flip flops this last Saturday and didn’t even bother to carry a jacket. Patrons at coffee houses are opening their tables’ windows to let the fresh air in, and the inexpensive street food ‘restaurants’ with the super friendly staff are setting up their tables outside again in anticipation for customers who, like Brad and me, want nothing more than to soak up the warming spring weather. Brad is dying to introduce this Chinese university to the American college campus game of Cornhole. We need to find and buy wood somewhere. We’ll keep you posted.

But I also miss home. I miss my now 7-month-old niece whom I have yet to meet and hold and kiss. I have missed all of my nephew Noah’s soccer games and a whole school year’s growth and silly stories from my nephews Miles and Griffin. I miss my parents’ hugs and belly laughs with my favorite girls. I love you all so much.

I also miss my country. Believe it or not, I miss the radio, especially NPR and The Ride. I miss American Idol! I miss my church. I miss the NBC Today show. (What's this I hear about Matt leaving??? I'm devastated!!! Don't kick me while I'm down!) I miss the excitement that being in the US would have brought being home right NOW. I am sad to have missed the excitement when the first announcements were made that Osama Bin Laden had had his last day.. The United States had finally been successful in this decade long hunt for his whereabouts. I am sad to have missed the chance to take a day off from my social studies lesson to discuss current events in class instead. I wonder what teachers and students have been talking about….

But the show must go on, even in China, and how fortunate am I to be able to have had these same kinds of discussions, but yet with a few Chinese? In my first college class after the news shouted the death of Bin Laden, I didn’t even have to bring the subject up. Ben, our sole student with perfect attendance, did so instead. It led to a two-hour discussion on everything from Bin Laden to Korea and Japan, to political philosophies around the world, to the impact and importance of religion in China. As I realized such a great discussion was happening, I suddenly was so sad that I didn’t have a tape recorder, or even my China notebook, so I could record and later recall everything that was said. (haha. In that same moment as my thoughts regretted not having something with which to record our conversation, I also realized I had totally missed what was just spoken so I had to snap out of it, suck it up, and just enjoy the moment.)

The Chinese, as I was told, have been taught about Bin Laden via books, textbooks, etc. They said that they have been taught the facts, but no opinions. Forming opinions has been left up to them. They’ve learned that he was from a wealthy family and used a lot of his wealth fighting the Soviets. At that time he was a good man doing good things. After that, of course, things changed and he started doing things that “were not so nice.” They really believed that he did these “not so nice” things at first to protect his family and his country from outsiders trying to force his family and country to be different from whom they wanted to be. One person mentioned she was surprised that the U.S. killed him, not just captured him to “talk to him” first. They don’t think killing at all is good, but they related the U.S. scorn of him and Al-Qaida to the Chinese hatred of the Japanese (due to Japanese mistreatment of the Chinese especially during WWII).

They don’t like how outside governments try to change other countries’ governments. They think that all countries know if their government is good or not and over time all countries really would and do change. They used China as an example. They told me that in the 1900s the Chinese people knew that things were not good in their country and the people began to change it. Still today, Chinese people look at the U.S. and other Western countries and feel that our governments work better and so they hope for continued change in their own government. They just don’t want to be told to change, or hinted at all that they in fact need to change. They related this especially to Korea. (Chinese regard Korea as one country.) They think that the Korean people will eventually change Korea on their own. “Countries are a lot like people, really,” one said.

A day or two after this conversation I had a hilarious interaction with a very friendly taxi driver. (Brad and I have found taxi drivers to really like Americans. Many of them, once finding out we’re from the U.S., often shout with a grin and a thumbs up or some gesture of the sort, “OBAMA! HA HA HA OBAMA!” It’s funny.every.time.) I was on my way back home from my primary school gig. After finding out I was from the U.S. (“may - gua”) the driver called out “OBAMA HA HA HA” but then made some gesture that looked like shooting a gun. I responded to the conversation as much I could without words and then assumed it to be over, but at a stop light he continued the conversation by putting his car in park and pulling out a newspaper from the side of his driver’s seat. He showed me the front page, a huge picture of Osama, then turned a few pages showing me all the pictures that there were of both President Obama and Bin Laden. He of course added, “OBAMA, OBAMA, HA HA HA!”

I wholeheartedly miss home, but China’s a pretty cool place to be too.

Tai Shan’s Steps to Heaven’s Gate

After 6,293 steps (officially…more if you go through the temples), 11 gates, 14 archways, 22 temples, and with thousands of Chinese comrades, our climb finished 5,059 feet higher and 4 hours later than we started. At 4:30 a.m. we found ourselves at the summit of the "most revered of the five sacred mountains" in China (as is inscribed on one of the 819 stone tablets found on the mountain). Dana and I set out on this journey to experience one of the many traditions of ancient China, and this trek has been made for over 3,000 years. Traditions don’t die easy here, and from the turn out on this given Monday, this one will live another 3,000 years.

The people of China will gladly tell anyone Tai Shan is known for its sunrise and its bond to birth and renewal. This bond is why worshippers have been making their way to the top dating back to the earliest inhabitants of the Middle Kingdom. And as Chinese tradition would have it, paying homage to the heavens with sacrifices at its summit was a rite of passage for the new emperor. It is no surprise that the mountain’s name, Tai, "泰" means “peace.” It seems peace is the reward received for faithfully reaching “heaven’s gate.”

For those readers that have not traveled to China, don’t believe that China’s government, during any period, has restricted the people’s faith (religion maybe but not faith). Faith is strong here in the People’s Republic. There is evidence of trust in the government, a strong belief in family is obvious, an allegiance to the group is felt and a faith in the

teachings of Confucius, Buddha, Tao, and ancestors are lived out. As a country that lacks Christianity and God, it does not lack gods. As a country that lacks the Holy Spirit, it does not lack spirituality. As a country that lacks the Creator, it does not lack creators.

As I made the steps up the mountain in the darkness minding each step so as not to step into a Buddhist, Taoist, and Confucian statue, the stories of Israel and Judah, of their turning from God and his pursuit of their worship, ran through my mind. In my mind I traveled back and forth between modern China and ancient, biblical times. As we passed by each new temple I connected more and more with the stories of the wrath of judgment poured out on His chosen people because their hearts loved gods of their own creation not the God of Creation.

The smell of incense was inescapable as these stories became more alive with each step. I was reminded of Jeremiah 1:16, “I will pronounce my judgments on my people because of their wickedness in forsaking me, in burning incense to other gods and in worshiping what their hands have made.”

When we reached the top I looked for Jeremiah. I heard him but I couldn’t find him. I heard him saying, “They say to wood, ‘You gave me birth.’ They have turned their backs to me and not their faces; yet when they are in trouble, they say, ‘Come and save us!’ Where then are the gods you made for yourselves? Let them come if they can save you when you are in trouble! For you have as many gods as you have towns, O Judah.” “…their idols cannot speak; they must be carried because they cannot walk. Do not fear them; they can do no harm nor can they do any good.” So many have made this pilgrimage to honor these “worthless idols” and to see the sunrise for with it brings the glory of Good Luck!

So, as I sat waiting for the sun to show itself my thoughts turned inward. Instead of hiding my idols inside, what would life be like if they were out on display? I immediately tried to stop that line of thinking, however it didn’t work. The thought of my idols and having them on display was embarrassing, condemning, and offensive. I was quickly relieved in knowing that, unlike the ones I passed on the way up and in the temples with incense burning all around, my idols

are hidden from public view. I am free to move around and ‘worship’ my idols at any time. I do not need to make pilgrimages to them, but at times I do. I do not need to make sacrifices for them, but I do so often. I do not need to hang flags, give gifts, or make gestures on their behalf, but I find myself doing so time and again. My idols are locked away from the public but not from God. And this truth stung like the mornings below-freezing air. I again heard Jeremiah reminding me that I am like Israel and Judah who “strayed so far…followed worthless idols and became worthless themselves.” And how I “exchange my Glory for worthless idols.” I was told that I could not look at the idolatry of this mountain (or country) as a foreign practice. I was told, while I sat there, that I must take ownership of it as a familiar practice and repent as was asked of my Christian forefathers.

Tai Shan had once again provided a worshipper a place to worship, to gain understanding, make connections, and offer praise. Though the journey began as a way to experience China it ended with me experiencing so much more than China…I experienced Holy Spirit accountability. As the sun came over the horizon with all its awe and splendor, it did bring a renewal of hope. A hope that brought the words, “because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, ‘The Lord is my portion.’” This filled my mind like the sunlight filled the sky. It looks as if peace is the reward for those that make it up to heaven’s gate!

Mao Zedong has been quoted for saying, "To die for the people is weightier than Mount Tai, but to work for the fascists and die for the exploiters and oppressors is lighter than a feather.” I would like to give one of my own, “To die serving an idol is weightier than Mount Tai, but to die serving the Creator of stone and wood is lighter than a feather.”

Spring hasn't sprung but it is springing...

Our Cooper River Bridge

While many Southeasterners were concerned with getting over the bridge last weekend, (Cooper River Bridge Run) Brad and I concerned ourselves with getting up a mountain. This wasn’t just any mountain, but the first of five sacred mountains in China, 3^rd in height. Emperors who used to be carried by caravan EVERYwhere, would be carried to Mt. Tai, but then actually get down and make the ascent with their own two feet, so we’ve been told. They would walk up the mountain to extend gratitude and prove fortitude soon after the gods had made them supreme ruler over China.

This mountain is also not like any other mountain in that it has 7,000 (but who's counting) beautiful stone steps. They made me think back to when my dad built a rock patio in our backyard in Connecticut. How I loved that patio! I vaguely remember it being constructed, but I do remember that it wasn’t an easy task. Can you imagine lugging stones all the way up a mountain in order to make steps for an emperor? I guess if your people can build the Great Wall, nothing else seems too much for which to ask.

These steps were not easy and as the hours passed they seemed to increase in difficulty. That wasn’t all that increased! You should have seen all of the people! I know this is China, and granted we were warned that it would be crowded (Monday and Tuesday celebrated the annual “Grave Sweeping” holiday so people had a couple days off of work), but seriously – it was nuts. It was especially nuts about 1/2 of the way up when we reached a MASSIVE group of people getting off buses to make the final trek up themselves. RUDE! Brad and I had already stopped to rest twice and now these people were coming in with excited smiles and fresh legs? Please.

The mass of people who crammed onto these steps was unreal and something I never could have expected. I really felt like I was running the Cooper River Bridge. I got mad at people who were going too slowly, Brad told me once to “get over to the side” because going up the middle was too crowded, and then later we both moaned at a group of college-aged kids who had stopped and sat down right in the middle of the stairs. Seriously, right there in the middle?! Mind you, all this was happening in the dark of night. We didn’t start our hike until close to 12:30 A.M. Not only were those people sitting in the middle of the steps, but they also couldn’t be seen until you basically stepped on them.

Ha. This makes it seem like it was terrible. It was nothing of the sort. It was cold, but the perfect weather for climbing. It was difficult, but not unable to conquer. It was crowded, yet just like on the bridge, being surrounded by so many people was intoxicating. Everyone was in it together. You felt badly for those who seemed too tired to keep going, and you felt proud of those who looked as if they should be too tired, but were still persevering.

It took us right about 4 hours to get to the top. We were up there for about 2 hours. In that time the wind picked up, our fingers neared frost bite, and our toes went numb. Also in that time, the stars gave way to the sun’s rays, the sky began to blossom with light, and more and more people successfully summitted the mountain, gathering round for our communal reason for this exertion.

He was slow coming. He took so long I began to question if maybe he never really shows himself at sunrise, maybe he just sends up his rays and calls it a morning. After all, he’s too busy cooking up Jimmy Dean sausage for his family. I saw him on TV once. His daughter is such a cutie.

We all waited… and waited. I knew something had to be coming because the Chinese people were a l l still there, gathered around on the rocks with their cameras ready. This was not their first rodeo. They had to be waiting for something more than just a lit up sky. After what seemed like forever, I heard a gasp and cheer and then lots of chatter. I looked up and there was the tip of the beautiful red sun, in all of its glory, rising upward in a picture perfect, blue sky. Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

My heart smiled as I thought it was just like God to make us wait on one of his miracles. He promised it, and it would come, but was I willing to wait, frozen fingers and all? I know I’ve made mistakes in my life when I have not waited long enough. I’ve rushed down the mountain too soon, just missing God’s miracle that he had planned to give me one minute later. Thank goodness, no thank God, this morning Brad and I decided to grin, bear it, and wait. Waiting is worth it.

And then we had to get down the mountain… with 10,000 of our closest Chinese friends.

o.h. m.y.

That Ram…

3.10.11

Brad and I are sitting in the “Sharing Bar” which is the little café in our international dorm. He’s on the internet as I try to blog. Country music is playing in the background. Not today’s Zach Brown Band or Darius Rucker (my favorites) or evenShania Twain (she’s a popular one here), but none other than George Jones. Brad is feeling all warm and cozy on the inside. He just called out “hen hao” (very good!) to the owner / manager and claimed the music as being from his state. Oh,that Southern Pride. You can take the boy out of the dirty South,but you can’t take the dirty South out of the boy. I wonder if the two Middle Eastern guys in the booth eating pizza and smoking cigarettes are equally as impressed with this evening’s selection.

Chinese schools get about a month off through January, their Chinese New Year / Spring Festival. A couple weeks ago we resumed our regular schedule. I use the term regular lightly. I am outsourced to other schools sometimes and last Thursday as I finished up some extra hours filling in for a different school, we’ll name it Plan B, the manager (sort-of) of that school came to me with my schedule for the next week. It included teaching 1^st grade and 3^th grade at a public elementary school (thus outsourced from my outsource) and a few at her school teaching 20-somethings (which I love). She gave me the primary school books from which to teach and quickly said, “Okay?” (it wasn’t a question) and then was done with me. This was the first time I had received a schedule from her so I thought it was a little weird. She is definitely a tricky one, but she told me she had already emailed Cheny so… I just went with it as cordially as possible.

Though I didn't this time, I have stood up to her before, S.H.O.C.K.E.R., I know. The first time I was scheduled to teach at her school (way back in September) I had to give a demo lesson, a lesson given to a prospective student. She told Cheny that she would have the book for me to use there at the school. Cheny went with me since it was my first time to Plan B, and we got there early so I could have time to prepare. When we arrived she didn’t seem to remember that she had promised me a book and instead told me to teach “anything I wanted.” What did that even mean and how would I know the English level of the students? I was furious but sat down at the one computer to try to think of something. She and Cheny started talking in Chinese. There was a lull in their conversation and I used that moment to get up from my chair, walk over to her, look directly in her eyes (she’s short, don’t worry, I didn’t need my toes) and say, “If you would have told me earlier I could have prepared something, but I didn’t know what I needed.” I was so proud of myself and for the moment didn’t care if she hated me. I was so strong. Then, I cried. Haha -kidding.

Cheny told me later she would have said something if I hadn’t. hmmmm.....

So anyway, I wondered if Cheny did in fact know I had these classes. She had told me previously that I possibly would have extra elementary school classes this semester.

Friday passed, and then Saturday, but I had yet to receive my new week’s schedule from Cheny (weeks are Monday - Sunday). On Sunday after my first class I texted her just to make sure I did need to teach those classes. She said yes. I received my official schedule later on that evening, with still yet another new elementary school class listed Thursday afternoon. Those classes that were given to me from Plan B school had not been the original elementary classes Cheny had been talking about.

Of course, as usual, the ram was already in the woods! (Shout out to my life group sistas.) I didn’t have to teach Monday morning, the college class had something else planned for the students, so I was able to use that time to prepare. I went to Huawen (our home base) where I had a computer, printer, and copier.

I found out there that Cheny didn’t know I was given more primary school classes. She had been told Plan B needed me for hours, but that was it. She called Plan B and found some things out so I could have more of a direction as I planned my lessons. She was also told: 1) I would be given a Chinese assistant to accompany me, and 2) these were smaller advanced classes (between 25-30 students each). I wouldn’t have to deal with lots of crazy kids in a huge crazy-kid classroom. This was good news.

It took me about 4 hours that morning, but I got something together. I went back home and left quickly again for Plan B so I could then be told where the primary school was located.

Things were busy when I arrived at

Plan B. I stood in the lobby type area for a bit and waited. A few minutes later the manager walked up to me and thrust LESSON PLANS into my hands.

“Lesson plans for you.”

“Lesson plans?”

“Lesson plans for you. The school has them. I sent them last week.”

“Lesson plans? But I already made lessons. Can I still use mine?”

“Oh, it’s just for your reference. Lesson plans for your reference.” She walked away as quickly as she had spoken.

Seriously, Cheny had called her THAT morning, why hadn’t she said anything about lesson plans she had already typed up and sent to the school a week earlier??

I stood around about 5 more minutes. The director of the school, the ONLY person above this lady, and fortunately someone who somehow has grown to like me, had ridden the elevator up with me and engaged me in casual conversation. He saw that I was still waiting and motioned to his manager (who was on her cell phone) that I was still standing there. At that she motioned to another girl who was sitting in a chair. That girl got up and came to me; I gathered she was my assistant.

This girl walked up to about 2 inches from my face and happily asked, ‘Hello, I’m _____ and I’m studying French. You speak French?”

“No.” – that was all I said. Did she think I was going to be speaking French? You’ve GOT to be kidding me. WHAT is happening to me right now? She looked confused when I responded negatively. She regretfully said that her English wasn’t so good. She then clenched me at the elbow and began moving me down the hall, down the elevator, outside down the street, and then into a taxi. Seriously, I know I’m on my way to middle age, but I assure you I can walk by myself.

We made it to the school and alas, I had one more surprise. I was waiting in an office when I learned that there had been some miscommunication. I wasn’t going to be teaching 1^st grade, but in fact 4^th. WHAT?! I had 25 minutes to think of something extra to teach concerning “WORKING AT A FACTORY” to 4^th graders. So much for having anything prepared. (haha – China. I had to teach about a factory!) Ready, GO.

Well, faithful blog followers, the ram was still in the woods and I was able to do all things through Christ who strengthened me. I made them laugh, I made them cry. (Okay, kidding about that too. No one’s been crying.) I even had them working in groups by the end of class. As the kids filed out, many said goodbye and two girls said I was beautiful. (aaaw, oh stop,... I mean… I’m sorry what? I didn’t hear you.) It had worked out

and I had actually even enjoyed myself! Better yet, now it was OVER and there would be no more surprises!

But, there were more surprises. Happy surprises! I got back to our dorm and I had gotten so much mail! I L.O.V.E. mail! After that my husband surprised me by taking me to a sushi restaurant. I L.O.V.E. sushi and we hadn’t had it since being here! Then my husband surprised me with a beautiful framed picture from our wedding with the lyrics of Crazy Love by Van Morrison printed on it. I L.O.V.E. that song and who doesn’t L.O.V.E. presents??? The next morning I checked my email and had LOTS of Facebook messages filled with love. I L.O.V.E. Facebook love!

Turns out it was a pretty great birthday after all. Of course it was; the ram was in the woods the whole time.

It's not a religion - Our days with the Sister.

Last month, Feb. 3rd to be exact, was the Lunar Chinese New Year. (Shout-out to all you Rabbits!) Brad and I decided to leave behind the land of dancing dragons, dumplings and firecrackers, to accompany our dear friends Travis and Marissa to the Philippines. Marissa’s parents are both originally from the Philippines, but immigrated to the United States after college. They met once in the U.S. Neither has been able to go back to visit their dearly loved and missed families, and none of their three children have been able to meet the majority of their huge extended family, until this past week. Marissa, my friend who is pure gold in heart and mind and spirit, was the first in her immediate family to make the pilgrimage back home to their motherland. Brad and I were beyond lucky to be part of this trip.

At the very least I can tell you that 1) not a minute was wasted, and 2) I did not go hungry. I will start by introducing Marissa’s Tita Inday, her mom’s sister. Marissa’s mom’s immediate family (parents and siblings) all moved to the U.S. some time ago, but Tita Inday became the lone ranger of her family and stayed behind in the Philippines in order to serve the poorest and neediest there.

Tita Inday is soft spoken but strong, quiet but courageous, humble yet extremely talented. She is steadfast in her pursuit of a life pleasing to the Lord, but she does not judge those whose lifestyle choices are different from hers. She is a servant to the needs of Manila, yet she is a leader of the people. She is revered and she is loved.

“People here won’t mess with you since you’re with the Sister. I mean it. They would think twice about doing anything to you if you were with a priest, but you’re three times as safe being with a sister.” That was told to me by a friend of Marissa’s cousin.

We absolutely did feel safe, but the impact of traveling with Tita Inday didn’t stop there. Taxi drivers felt compelled to tell her (and thus us) their life stories to which she graciously listened and asked questions. (I took advantage of these situations and asked questions as well.) University students greeted us with “Hellos” in English because they also greeted her as they walked by. Tour guides gave us reduced rates because we were just humble traveling missionaries as Tita described to them. (“That’s what you are you know, teaching English in China, you’re missionaries.”)

Tita is in her early 60s. She has been a nun for 40 years. She felt her calling when she was in nursing school, but followed the advice of her mother to first finish her degree before entering the convent. Thinking back upon that time she said, “I was just so in love with the Lord, so in love with Jesus.” She has enjoyed serving the poor, sick, and working with troubled children. She has performed a variety of jobs and held a variety of roles (including Mother Superior), but at the current time she is assigned to teach and carry out managerial duties at a school about 3 hours from Manila. The school has about 5000 students, grades kindergarten through college. (In the Philippines the school structure is K-6 grades, then four years of high school. There is no middle school. Also, a ‘university’ is superior to a college.) There are over 200 employees at this school. She works in the religious studies department. She loves her job.

I asked about her funniest story. She laughed and flashed her amazing beautiful, big smile as she thought back on the silly story. She was running to catch a bus, but saw she could not make it. She knew the bus would be turning the corner so she ran across to the side street instead. There was a police officer on the side of the road. She asked him if he could stop the bus to let her get on. He of course obliged her request (the Philippines are 90% Catholic and NOBODY messes with a nun!). As the bus turned the corner the police officer flagged him to stop. The driver obeyed, opened the door towards the officer, and Sister Rosalyn stepped up the stairs. Sister giggled as she recalled that the passengers made fun of the driver, all saying “Ooooooh…” because it was obvious he was nervous about being stopped by a cop. Sister said she made sure to never put herself in that kind of situation again!

About a decade or so ago, Tita (aunt) was afflicted with breast cancer. I asked her about the history of the disease in her family. She said there was not a history, that she was the only one. She explained at that time in Manila her responsibilities were great in number and stress. She was becoming tired and worn out and pleaded with God for rest. Sheknew that just a week or even a month would not be long enough. She was completely worn out and running on empty. One night she had a dream that she had cancer in her left breast. She went in to see the doctor and although he thought she was healthy he also determined that there was a small possibility of cancer in her right breast. She told him he was wrong, that her dream had told her she had cancer in the left. He respectfully responded, “Okay Sister, we will check.” She was given a mammogram and it turned out that she in fact had cancer in her left breast. She flew to Marissa’s house in the States for better treatment than she could find in the Philippines and allowed her sister’s family to take care of her. She went through all the things women go through as they fight cancer. Her fight was victorious; she was healed, and then sent back to work in Manila.

Brad asked her how she has seen the role of religion change in the past 40 years. Her facial expression made it obvious that a lot has changed over the years. She mentioned that modern-day media (especially American movies and TV) has destroyed the family. She said that it is harder to teach religion now because people are actually more pious than they used to be. “But,” she added, “People are also more hungry for the Lord. There is a big difference between religion and spirituality.” I told her the pastor at our church in Charlotte, NC, has been saying the same thing: It’s not a religion; it’s a relationship. She agreed.

*********************************************************************************

I wrote this journal entry on February 7, the night we returned from the Philippines. How coincidental that on that following Sunday our Charlotte Pastor, David Chadwick, spoke on this exact topic. You can check it out if you wish by viewing the past series here: http://www.foresthill.org/southpark/message-video.cfm RELIGION VS. RELATIONSHIP Feb. 12, 2011

Silly China!

1.12.11:

There are so many funny things that happen here.

#1) This is the picture I was taking when the girl shrieked once she found out I was from America. I was trying to be incognito as I took a picture of this tea kiosk. I wanted the picture especially for my mom. She drinks morning tea, afternoon tea, and evening tea. Sometimes she forgets about her tea, and it gets cold!

What Southerner would want cold tea? Good thing microwaves were invented. I’m not sure if my parents would have much need for their microwave if mom didn’t have to heat up her cold, hot tea. Anyway, not only is she a tea drinker but she also works in the gastroenterology unit of her hospital and is a huge advocate of getting enough fiber in one’s diet. So nonetheless, this picture was perfect for her.

#2) On Tuesdays I pick up our pay from our office / school base about 20 minutes away by bus. Cheny is pregnant and is due in May. She is ADORABLE and buys everything she needs over the internet. (That seems to be the way to do it around here. Everything in a regular store is so expensive.) She even bought a super cute “baby on board” window tag to hang from the back of her car. Thinking about it, this TOTALLY cracks me up because it’s not like ANY of the other drivers in Qingdao will be able to read what it says!

So the funny part is that she had on a new purchase this past Tuesday.

I noticed it immediately and asked her about it. It seems in China pregnant mothers are very concerned about radiation poisoning, especially from microwaves and computers. Radiation from the outside world is very dangerous for the growing baby. So… they wear radiation vests! Cheny ordered hers from the internet. She got the less expensive style for 100 Yuan, but she said that some of the higher quality, thicker ones are about 1000 Yuan. She laughed and said that the cheap one was fine for her. I told her pregnant mothers didn’t wear those in America, and she was very surprised. I asked if I could take a picture and she gladly obliged.

#3) Ha! Love this one! Our college students have to be ready to talk, write, read, and listen to ANYTHING in English. One of our students, Holly, has her IELTS test in a week and a half and is frantically practicing and studying basically around the clock. During our break one day she was talking through some potential speaking questions. She was talking about KTV. KTV is a place where people LOVE to go sing karaoke. They have these KTVs everywhere. Holly asked if we had them in America and I said no. She was shocked. I told her that people usually go to bars/pubs to sing karaoke or some people just buy a machine of their own. She couldn’t believe it and then began to say, “Well, what if a business man wants to…” (this is where the conversation starts).

Assuming she was going to ask about a businessman renting a KTV space, I blurted out, “Noo, that wouldn’t happen. Americans are shy.” I know that ‘shy’ isn’t the perfect word in describing why most Americans don’t blurt out, “My Heart Will Go On” in front of their fellow colleagues (whereas Chinese college students and business people do) but, no other word came to me at that moment.

Her response was a mix of astonishment and disbelief. “Americans are shy?

... Americans are shy?” She exchanged some comments back and forth in Chinese with fellow student Ben, and then shot back, “What about Lady Gaga?? Isn’t she American?” I chuckled to myself, envision her outfit when she performed for the NBC Today Show this summer, and obviously started to agree that Lady Gaga indeed is not shy. Holly carried on her exchange with Ben. Soon their conversation stopped and she tried to disprove my theory once more, “What about Brad??!!” HA!

#4) Last one. At the beginning this same class I asked the students some brainteaser type questions at which they were allowed to call out the answers. It turned into a competitive game. The first of seven questions was, “Approximately how many languages are spoken in the world?” (7,000) and the second was, “Which is the most widely spoken language in the world?” (Mandarin) (I didn’t think of these questions, it was in their book and the teacher’s manual gave me the answers. I let them think I was just TOTALLY smart.)

It took them forever to figure out the first answer, even after me totally reenacting Price is Right games stuck in my head, but Ben quickly shouted out “Chinese” for the second answer. I told them that Chinese wasn’t specific enough. I needed to know which kind of Chinese.

After a few seconds of confusion Holly desperately wanted to steal the point from Ben and so called out, “Ordinary Chinese!” (Seriously??) She actually even tried to defend herself as being right!

I eventually had to GIVE them the answer and even spell it for them on the board. I made them research what “other” language people speak in the southern part of the country.

Silly China!