mahout

apples and potatoes

2007-05-19T02:01:00.000-07:00

Stereotypical teacher gifts back home: An apple. A plastic apple ornament. A big #1 teacher coffee mug.

Gifts my students give me: scraps of paper, drawings, sticky pieces of candy they were just about to pop into their own mouths, oragami ornaments, random stickers stealthily stuck to my clothes, arms, and legs without my knowledge, hand crafted miniature super heroes, and most recently...a potato.

Say Cheese

2007-05-11T22:54:00.000-07:00

We weren't the only tourists in Beijing during May holiday. People from all around China flocked to the capital city. They crowded the streets and historical attractions. These homegrown tourists eagerly documented their trips. Jumping with excitement at the chance to take snap shots of the Great Wall, the Forbidden City, and to my surprise us foreigners. More than a dozen approached with cameras. Olivia and I are now featured in the family photos of people from all around the country.

China Welcomes Olivia

2007-05-11T22:46:00.000-07:00

My friend Olivia just visited me for two weeks. I met her in Beijing. We spent a few nights in the capital before we flew to Shanghai. Afterwards we spent the majority of her trip in good old dusty Wuhan. I saw her off today. My students and I were sad to see her go. To any potential visitors...we had an awesome time! COME TO CHINA! :)

Sentence of The Week

2007-05-11T22:45:00.000-07:00

Early Monday morning: Music blares and the students march out onto the field, filling it with straight lines and uniforms. Standing at attention they raise the flag, give speeches, and sing songs. I'm not quite sure what goes on. I'm assuming they are reminded to love their parents, to love their country, and to work hard in school. Each week a foreign teacher is invited on the stage to greet the students and to teach them an English saying. (the school often chooses the saying) I've stood on the platform, microphone in hand, many times. I've told them "Don't take any chances", "Never look back", and that "Sharing is caring".

2007-05-11T22:25:00.000-07:00

In their eyes.....

I let my students draw on their tests when they finish early. They often draw portraits of me. Here are three recent depictions of what I look to my third grade Chinese students.

2007-03-25T05:15:00.000-07:00

Diplomats for a day.

All important messages at our school are spread last minute via word of mouth. If you don't ask questions or at least keep your ears clean, you might miss the boat, an occasional meeting, or a chance to plant trees. By Thursday, rumours of a trip to the foreign forest were spreading like wildfire. I knew said rumours were true when I attempted to talk with my co teacher about the next day's teaching plan. Her: "But you won't be here tomorrow. You will plant trees." Me: "Oh. What?!"

The foreign forest of Wuhan: Over two hundred trees planted by people from 20 different countries. Inviting the non-Chinese of Wuhan to the rocky forest is an annual tradition, six years in the running. Friday morning came around and despite a thunderstorm and a recent downpour, we were off.

Representing our school were the 14 other English teachers and our boss, Mr. Ye. We took place in a five bus police escorted caravan that took us two hours out of Wuhan and straight to the forest. This forest hasn't yet grown into its name. It was more like a hill. A rocky dusty hill with short trees no taller than the ceilings in my room.

When we got out of our buses all foreigners and Chinese alike huddled around waiting for direction. I wasn't sure what was going on, but suddenly, two Chinese men armed with megaphones began giving speeches. Apparently, as a coworker pointed out, they were holding those loudspeakers as props. I could barely hear a word they were saying! I did catch that they welcomed us foreigners. They believed that improving the environment is a common goal for all countries, and that by volunteering our labor we were offering a gesture of friendship. At the end of their speech, they unveiled a giant rock carved with Chinese characters. I couldn't read it and so could only guess what it said: "Foreign Forrest of Wuhan"....."Foreigners Support China"......

The firecrackers began and we stood through what felt like five minutes of explosions. Meanwhile the TV cameras and reporters swarmed.

Before I knew it I had a bucket of water in my hand and a shovel. By the time I got to my first tree, there was already a crowd atop the hill digging. However, I realized that the hole for the trees were already worked out. We just had to place the tree in the pre dug hole, shovel some dirt around it, water it, and move on. While the work wasn't as strenuous as I thought it would be, it did present a great photo opportunity. The video cameras and reporters kept busy while the foreigners of Wuhan did their work. My coworker Lillis and I managed to stand 10 or more trees up and "plant them".

An hour or so into it, just after I began to break a sweat, we were herded back onto the buses. It was time to go. That was it?!
I guess so.

They escorted us to a fancy banquet hall and as a sign of friendship treated us to a delicious lunch.

Ground Control to Major Tom: The Bund

2007-02-26T00:05:00.000-08:00

The Shanghai city skyline is two faced. On the one hand, it is grandiose and stoic. For a foreigner, reminiscent of the best of park avenue or museum mile NYC...only bigger and older. Elegant and powerful.
On the other hand, a simple glance across the river and you are transported to a land more foreign than China itself. Sparkling, neon lights and oddly shaped buildings...what seems like a projection from the 80's of "What 2020 will look like". or simply the childhood toy "Light Bright" in sky scraper form....also known as the Pearl Tower.

Lights. Camera. ENGLISH DAY!

2007-02-03T19:55:00.000-08:00

HAPPY ENGLISH HAPPY LIFE

The auditorium was packed with students, parents, contestants, and reporters. English day was about to begin. A few days before the event, the school asked the foreign teachers to sing a song together. Our performance would conclude the celebration that is English Day. This request was met with skepticism, and most of the other foreigners were hesitant about getting on stage. Some refused. Right before the show, the other foreign teachers and I were in our office, practicing our performance for the first and last time.

After our rehearsal, we made our way to the auditorium. When we walked in, the crowd went wild. The students stood on their feet, noise makers and balloons in hand. They cheered their little hearts out. They sure love rock stars here...(English teachers = rock stars). I quickly located my kids (as they were screaming my name).

With all of the lighting, sound effects, and enthusiasm of a proper game show, English day was full of dances, a play, music, and fun. In between these events several students recited speeches and were judged.

There were rumours about a possible English day event since Christmas. The date kept getting pushed back. Apparently, the leaders of the school were not satisfied. They felt the students needed more practice. For weeks, the students were in and out of our office memorizing speeches, rehearsing plays, and dances. And the co teachers put in countless extra hours to make the administration happy. In the end, as I stood on stage holding a crumpled piece of paper trying to harmonize with 13 others who can't sing either, I felt embarrassed. The amount of time the school put into preparing for this event put our last minute efforts to shame.

However, I don't think it mattered. The winners of the contest were announced, confetti was shot from the ceiling, we sang our song and the students were happy! Happy English Happy Life!

For the show, the third graders put on the English play. Some of my favorite students were in it! This is a picture of them. Scott (a frog) Ethan (a dog) and Cara (a bird)....

Inernational Stereotypes: An American in Wuhan

2007-01-22T01:25:00.000-08:00

I was in the back of a taxi, weaving through traffic, speeding across the Yangtze River Bridge. It was the middle of the night. I was with friends, a Canadian and a Chinese co teacher named Daisy. The driver suddenly realized that we weren't speaking Chinese. He asked Daisy where we were from. She told him. He smiled a big toothy grin, looked in his rear view mirror and said in Chinese "Americans are welcome in Wuhan. Iraqis aren't." I haven't felt any animosity towards me from the Chinese about being American. (Granted, I might not notice because of the language barrier.) The other foreigners in town however, are a different story.

A stereotypical American: An obnoxious ignorant redneck...arrogant and disrespectful, constantly awaiting the opportunity for someone to fuck up so they can sue. I've sat through entire lunches where the people I know rag on America. I've had others express surprise when they get to know me, exclaiming "I always just assumed all Americans were like the people on Blind-date". People are quick to define me by my country... to tell me what I think and why. While there is a lot of banter and joking going on, there isn't much of a discussion.

As Lillis points out, we should look at what America is offering the world: Blind-date...Britney Spears. If these are the things we value and export, no wonder people think of us as they do. America obviously has more to offer than the worst of pop-culture. The fact that these things are popular elsewhere in the world isn't just a reflection of the people back home.

Unfortunately, the negative sentiment, the disappointed looks people give me when I tell them where I am from, have to do with what my taxi driver commented on. It's not about popular culture; it's about politics. While I don't support the administration or the way things are, I won't just shrug it off and say I voted for the other guy. I'm an American. Maybe I'm frustrated, but I'm not going to move. So by being American, I am supporting the things that I don't . But should individuals be held responsible for the actions of their government?

Stereotypes and generalizations can be dangerous. They can too easily foster hate without understanding. I think that anyone who automatically defines a person based on where they are from is just as close minded as the pigheaded Americans they are condemning. And if people got to talking they would probably realize they are frustrated about similar things.

P.S. If I use my experience as a sample, the stereotype that the American abroad is the most obnoxious, arrogant, and disrespectful would prove false. It would be a three way tie between the Brits, the Canadians, and my fellow countrymen. :)

Also... the picture is of a pair of flip flops (or should I say "freedom flops") I bought at a dollar store in New Jersey......

the responsibility of a traveler....

2007-01-19T20:55:00.000-08:00

Bright eyed, white faced, and tall, I stick out like a sore thumb. There aren't a lot of foreigners in town and people stare without shame. I once went to the supermarket with my Chinese teacher Robyn. As we were checking out, two older women behind us fell under the gawking spell. They asked Robyn about me and told her that they've never seen a foreigner in person. A lot of people here are in the same boat. And they stare. When I walk down the street, when I went to the doctor, when I get my hair cut, on the bus, everywhere. Admittedly, it can sometimes be a little much, but I am getting used to it. Especially when I remind myself that they are just surprised and curious.

In a city that is not internationally diverse it is easy to unintentionally become the center of attention. As a traveler I think it is important to remember that I am a guest in this city, that its culture is different than mine, and that my actions may in fact be the first impression people have of foreigners or of Americans in person. I can't help feeling that it is my responsibility to be respectful because of this.

I haven't written much about the other foreigners I have met here. There are 15 of us working at the same school and living in the same apartment building. While they are friendly, I haven't spent much time with most of them since the beginning of my trip. Everyone travels for different reasons and frankly speaking, they aren't my style. Sometimes I can't help but cringe a little when I witness or hear about their drunken escapades. Getting sloppy drunk/belligerent and destroying property (state property) in our apartment complex, fighting with taxi drivers, or breaking out the American National Anthem wherever they go makes me feel uncomfortable.

My friend here pointed out to me that while yes a foreign guest should be respectful, it is also the responsibility of everyone else to realize that the actions of one or a few people shouldn't shape their opinions about all foreigners or Americans. While this is true, I don't think it is so simple. Many of you might not know much about China. However, just like I did before I came here, you probably have different ideas about what it is like. You get these ideas indirectly, from the media, from different generalizations and stereotypes floating around, and from what other people tell you. Of course we all realize that my experience here can't serve as a generalization for all of China etc. But When I write about being here, I try to be careful, respectful, and fair as I know that I am a source that might shape your impression of life in China or confirm ideas you already have. How I behave here shouldn't serve as a generalization about foreigners or Americans, but when people have a direct experience with me or any foreigner, for better or worse it might confirm or shape ideas they already have.

winter meat

2007-01-19T18:44:00.000-08:00

Another phenomena of the cold is the "winter meat". I was warned that once it starts getting cold, I'll really have to watch where I'm walking. If I'm not careful, I might accidentally slam into some dead animals. Now that it is cold enough, people season meat and put it outside all winter to let it dry. It hangs from balconies, from wires, in doorways, on sidewalks, and along side their laundry. Duck, sausages, even fish. Apparently, after Spring holiday, when the winter meat is ripe and ready...my meals here will be even tastier.

Baby its cold outside....

2007-01-19T18:20:00.000-08:00

Tights, long johns, more tights, a pair of jeans, three pairs of socks, sneakers. Long johns, two sweaters, a small jacket under a big jacket. A hat, a scarf, and fingerless gloves that, in the classroom double as an eraser. Its winter in Wuhan. Most places here, including our classrooms, are not heated. With drafty windows and a constant flow of teachers and students in and out all day, the heater in the English office doesn't always cut it either. These days, I look more like Randy from A Christmas Story than I do a teacher.

On several occasions, the school has lost power. Its happened on at least five or six separate days. And I'm guessing it happens on a semi-regular basis....or at least often enough for them to have a metal bell hanging from a tree. Before the end and beginning of each class the gate guard walks to the bell and hits it with a mini sledge hammer to remind us to switch periods. On these days I've realized how precious the little heat we have in our office really is. So this is what it must feel like to work outside.

sick day...

2006-12-27T02:29:00.000-08:00

Each class I deal with 40 some runny nosed little munchkins with constant streams of goobers dripping down their faces (especially in first grade). Needless to say I only get two or three days of relief between colds. Don't worry mom. Usually its nothing major, just enough to require a pack of tissues be within arms reach at all times. Last week however, my cold got the best of me. Before I knew it, I found myself leaving school early Monday afternoon with a case of the chills and a sore throat. Once I got home, I collapsed in my bed and began the traditional sick day movie marathon. It unfortunately didn't do the trick. The next day, I couldn't imagine going to my classes and was just plane feeling lousy. I took a taxi to meet with my boss Mr. Ye. In slow simple English I told him I was feeling very bad and needed someone to take me to the doctor. He responded immediately. Together we marched to the English office. He asked around to see who was free. Finally, he assigned a Chinese teacher named Season to take me to the hospital down the road.

There are many co-teachers/Chinese English teachers in our English department. To be blunt not all of them have a strong handle of the English language. The last person I wanted to take me was Season. Her language skills are pretty slim. When talking to her about their classes, another foreign teacher realized that she was just giving him the old smile and nod. She wasn't understanding a word he was saying! In the middle of their conversation, he looked her straight in the eye and said "I like to have sex with asian prostitutes". She blinked and nodded happily. A cruel joke maybe ,but regardless, she's clueless.

The hospital itself was a massive building towering over the street. I told Season my symptoms. Fever. Ear Ache. Sore Throat. She seemed confused. Meanwhile, we entered the hospital and were in the "First Aide Center" (there were English translations on the signs). We made our way through a maze of hallways to the main lobby. We registered. They told us to go see a doctor on the fourth floor. We walked up the stairs, a daunting task for someone feeling ill.

The hallways were crowded with people slumped against the walls and sitting in chairs, sick and waiting. Season lead the way. She did not seem confident and together we tried to find the correct place. Suddenly, her eyes lit up and she started walking faster. Maybe she found it! I looked up at the sign over the nurses station she brought me to. It said "Neurology department". I stopped her and tried to explain my symptoms again.

After asking a few more white coats, we went down a crowded hallway, sat outside the doctors office and waited. When it was my turn, Season was polite enough to close the door after we entered the room. This however did not stop other sick people from trying to come in to wait and to tell the doctor they were there. Privacy is something that is a protected right in hospitals back home. It doesn't exist here.

My exam consisted of me telling the doctor my symptoms. I opened my mouth and she said "there is something wrong with your throat". She asked if I had a fever. I told her I didn't know. She sent us back out into the lobby. I took my own temperature and reported back to her. The exam was over. After we left, Season told me the doctor suggested I get a blood test. We went to the "blood Center" got my prescription stamped, went all the way back down to the main lobby to pay and then back to the blood center where they took my blood.

When Season handed the results to the doctor, they started arguing! I was handed two prescriptions and then we left. The only thing Season had to offer about this was "there is something wrong with your body". I kept insisting she explain more. She kept telling me "I don't know how to say" but "you must get an injection".

We took my prescriptions to the "Injection Center". At this point I started to get nervous. The doctor didn't even touch me? Why were they arguing!? What is an injection center

The "injection center" is a big room with four televisions, a bunch of chairs, and IVs. People go their during their lunch breaks to get their daily dose of antibiotic drips. It was very casual and unlike what I'm used to. It confirmed the rumour I heard about this hospital. No matter what you go in for, they put you on the drip :) They tested me to make sure I wasn't allergic to my medication. Then they pumped the drugs straight into my veins. I sat for about 2 hours and also had to go back for two more days; two more injections.

The atmosphere at the hospital wasn't like anything at home. First of all, the set up (paying, going to see the doctor, paying, getting a blood test, paying, getting an injection) involved lots of running around. It made me feel disorganized and most of all exhausted! Also, it seemed more casual than at home. I was very skeptical and hyper aware of the fact that it wasn't sterile. Maybe its because I've worked in hospitals before, but I felt like I was noticing every speck of dirt. People were smoking. I saw drops of blood on the floor and garbage lying around. Nothing too bad. Even now I'm not sure if it was actually dirty or if the casual atmosphere just made me notice things more and think that it wasn't sterile. I felt uncomfortable. I felt sick. I felt confused. The only reason I agreed to the injection was because there was an English name on the box of antibiotics (so I could look it up online/see what they were giving me).

Even though I was frustrated with Season, the truth is that I don't speak Chinese but I'm living in China. I was grateful that she was there. With a lot of rest and two more injections, I've managed a full recovery. Those antibiotics most have done the trick too. Its been almost a week since my last sniffle :)

Drawing: Round Three

2006-12-23T04:42:00.000-08:00

We arrived at the art school for our third lesson. By now we were used to the abandoned buildings and darkness. When we approached the art building, we looked up and realized that the lights were out on the seventh floor. It seemed very strange. Was anyone around? We walked to the dark stairwell and our eyes adjusted to the pitch black atmosphere. I was immediately reminded of my nervousness. (I don't think I'll ever get used to those stairs.) We climbed. When we got to the the seventh floor, it too seemed abandoned...not to mention far to clean for an art studio. There were no students. There were no easels nor half finished master pieces. We called out to see if anyone was there. Julia came running to our attention. The students just took their finals and are off for a few weeks, she explained. So the three of us had a private lesson. We drew a pear and two apples. The teacher said that I have improved a lot already and because I have "the feeling". We spent two hours watching him draw and imitating his strokes. Meanwhile, he and Julia practiced English and while Lillis and I practiced Chinese.

I missed class this week because I was sick.

Drawing: Round Two

2006-12-12T21:49:00.001-08:00

The week went by quickly and it was already time for our second drawing lesson. After teaching our classes on Thursday, we hailed a cab and made it to the art school without delay. When we arrived, I realized that my imagination is large. The place seemed a lot less creepy now that we knew what to expect. It wasn't nearly as scary as I remembered. :) Although, the dark stairwell, which resembled a haunted house, was still a bit spooky.
I was nervous about drawing for several reasons. The last time we had class, we caused such a spectacle just by being there. A small crowd formed around us everytime we talked. I wasn't looking forward to having a flock of Chinese students standing over my shoulder watching, waiting, gawking in anticipation. Wondering if this foreigner can draw. Also, I noticed that all of the art work hanging around the studios looked exactly the same. I could tell that they had very specific ideas about what makes a good drawing.
Julia and our teacher were expecting us. They escorted us into a studio where two other students were painting. We sat down on tiny, low to the ground stools and put our drawing boards on our easels. We were going to draw a still life with three apples, a plate, and some fabric.
Our teacher instructed us to draw the outlines first. A different teacher was watching our every move and a random student came by every now and then to see what we were up to. I didn't make much progress because I was constantly stopped for holding my pencil wrong. I tried very hard to do as they asked. After the outlines, we were to draw the hard shadows by making diagonal lines. I was still holding my pencil wrong. They corrected me again and I went at it. "No nonono." They suddenly stopped me. I was making my marks from the bottom of the page to the top. They told me to please go from top to bottom. I realized that I wasn't really learning how to draw. I was learning a drawing formula. Text book style. Outlines first, then hard shadows, diagonal lines, and gray shadows, then the darkest dark, then smudge gently. It was hard to go back to the basics and try to relearn how to do things differently. I felt like I was drawing with my left hand.
Our teacher showed us his drawing from the demonstration. He had completed it. The details and shadows were stunning but I admit the composition was stale and unimpressive (maybe even bad). Their mentality really emphasises copying. If you can copy something exactly then you have created a good drawing. If I can master this formula I will be a drawing machine. A human camera. While this classical approach can be a good foundation, it can also be stifling. It creates a very rigid idea of how things should be done while leaving out room for individual style or creativity. While much of the work that I saw was technically amazing, the atmosphere was a lot different than what I'm used to. I think I can gain a lot from doing this. But I admit, when I got back to my apartment, I was eager to break the formula. I lined up some apples and did a few blind contour drawings just to get it out of my system.

Drawing: Round One

2006-12-12T21:48:00.000-08:00

When it was time to go to class, Lillis and I had trouble getting a taxi and telling our driver where we needed to go. We showed him some Chinese characters. Our taxi swerved and stopped short in front of a large gate. The driver gestured for us to pay and get the hell out. We hesitated. This looked nothing like the dark muddy driveway Julia led us through just four days ago. It was actually a legitimate university. "This can't be it." We showed him the characters again. Finally, he did a quick u-turn and drove us a few feet around the corner to a different gate. We immediately recognized its randomness and knew we found the right place. Feeling foolish we stumbled out of the cab and entered the driveway. Our memories were vague and it was dark. We managed to find the muddy path that lead off the road, into the darkness, past a caged abandoned building. Behind this building, away from the road was the art building. The doors were flung open and it also seemed abandoned. We were headed for the seventh floor. The only problem: there were no lights! It was PITCH BLACK and silent. We began to think that there had been a misunderstanding. Maybe no one was there. We listened carefully and could hear voices in the distance. We decided to enter the stairwell and attempt to find the room we were in last time.
It was creepy. If I were in America I never would have gone near that building. This is the stuff horror movies are made of! As my friend Anne once said, things that are shady in America aren't shady in China...but as I was blinded by darkness, clutching for the banister halfway between the third and fourth floor in the middle of nowhere, I began to question if that's true. I recalled a few days earlier when my friend Matthew and I were shopping for gloves. We came upon a store that sold a lot of random stuff including weapons. I picked up what looked like a police baton. The owner came over, thinking I might make a purchase, and took it from me. It wasn't a baton. He unscrewed the handle and pulled out a MASSIVE knife. We're talking a 10 inch blade at least. It was enough to make my spine shiver. With this image in mind, I couldn't help thinking that maybe I have a false sense of security. Maybe I am naive. However, even as all of the alarms were going off in my head, I felt safe. A dark stairwell, an abandoned building, not knowing if we were lost or not, nighttime falling....I've been trained to not feel comfortable with this type of situation. At least not at home anyway. But it was safe. This contrast was enough to leave me both giddy and spooked. Suddenly someone else entered the stairwell. Two floors below us and climbing, a Chinese man was humming his way through the darkness. Someone was coming!! Lillis and I panicked and picked up the pace. We finally saw some light as we approached the seventh floor. We felt both embarrassed and relieved to discover that the man behind us was a friendly pipsqueak of a high school kid...as opposed to a man in a ski mask with a machete of course....our bad :)
We were greeted by our teacher, a short Chinese man with broad shoulders, long flowing hair (parted in the middle), braces, and a brown leather jacket. We sat down with him and Julia to talk about our classes and to pay. It was all very serious. Our teacher wanted to prepare a timetable for us so we can progress as much as possible in ten lessons. Julia did most of the talking as she was translating. Our teacher sat on the other side of the table looking serious and mumbling Chinese shyly to Julia . Suddenly, without warning and in perfect English he looked at Lillis and then at me and blurted out "YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL." Awkward giggling ensued by all parties and so began our first lesson.
We did not draw that night. Instead our teacher gave a demonstration. There were mostly high school kids crowded around a tiny stool and drawing board. There was a still life of a jug, some fruit, some fabric, and a Pepsi bottle. Our teacher sat down. Pencil in hand, he got right down to business. We on the other hand, immediately caused a scene. Julia made a fuss about getting us a good place to sit. The others whispered to friends and stared curiously. Julia informed us that the teacher asked that she come to all of our lessons to translate! We tried to assure her that this wasn't necessary. During the demonstration, she stood between us narrating as our teacher drew. "He is drawing the outlines now"...."He is drawing the shadows now". An hour passed and we took a break. As we spoke to Julia in English we became surrounded by a circle of other students, who wanted to try and understand our language. The break ended.
Our teacher was determined to finish his drawing. It was coming along nicely. I was impressed with his lack of hesitation. He drew fast and yet each and every mark or his pencil was confident and calculated. Like a machine. Another hour passed. At one point a tall Chinese boy stood up next to Lillis. I could feel him eyeing the two of us, hoping we would look. He had an immature but cocky attitude. He moved closer and then a little closer. He Nudged his buddy to say something and then kept gawking. It was all too much. I tried to hold it in, but at least one cackle escaped and I found myself crying from trying not to laugh. Lillis was privy to the situation. I could hear her attempting to contain herself which made the situation even more funny. I thought of walking up the dark stairs, of watching our teacher draw a Pepsi bottle for what felt like an eternity, of his random declaration of our beauty, of Julia's play by play, and I began to wonder what we were doing there...everything became hilarious. We took a short break only to be told that this was a three hour demonstration, so it was going to be awhile. Lillis and I had enough. Our teacher looked a little crushed and insulted when we told him we were bolting. As we stood by the door putting on our jackets, a crowd of students came by to watch. As one man explained his name in Chinese, our teacher walked by once again. He stood behind the crowd, looked at us and yelled "HOT", he then walked away briskly. Welcome to random town. We carefully made our way back down into the darkness.
Next lesson: we draw.

Art School

2006-12-12T21:46:00.000-08:00

During my first week in China, before I was brave enough to take a bus by myself, before I knew how to say the name of my school, I made it my mission to find somewhere I could take art classes. I emailed the foreign affairs department at Wuhan University. They replied immediately and in broken English told me to check out the Hubei Arts Institute. Easy as pie. Or so I thought! There was still one major problem...I don't speak Chinese!
Going places on my own, without a Chinese friend or someone who has a solid grip on the language is always a little exciting and difficult. IT can be frustrating. I admit, my ambition drained when I thought about figuring out how to get to this art school....let alone ask about classes! Sometimes communicating with other people is seamless. Other times I end up questioning why I try to do what I'm not capable of/leave the house at all! In the end, because I don't know much of the language, the majority of my encounters are about trust. I'm not always sure exactly what is going on. Luckily though, there are a lot of friendly people out there. A month passed. With the support of an accomplice, Lillis, I got someone to circle the name of the school on a map. It wasn't until still a month after this that Lillis and I worked up enough courage to hail a cab map in hand. Neither of us had a plan of what to do once we arrived. Luckily we didn't need one
When we were looking around the art supply store attached to the school, a woman grabbed my arm smiled and said "Hello!". Her name was Julia. Turns out that she is a student at the school. We told her that we were interested in classes and before we knew it she was on her cell phone making calls while simultaneously leading us past buildings into the university. She took us to the art building, which we NEVER would have found without her. We met with her teacher, signed up for drawing classes, and agreed to return the following week. No sweat.
Thanks to her bold helpfulness (and her ability to speak some English/her patience with our Chinese), Lillis and I are now signed up for drawing and painting classes once a week for the next ten weeks.

howdy

2006-12-12T21:43:00.000-08:00

hey folks,

I'm currently teaching English to first and third grade kids in Wuhan, China. I'm starting this blog to keep you updated about all of my adventures and travels.
take care
e