What's Been Going On.

I'm breaking my silence and updating you pictorially with a few of the folks who stopped by this summer :)

Full of Dirt.

Living here is dirty business.  I have resigned myself to the layer of dirt that has come to permanently settle in our house, as well as the dirt that daily manages its way to my face (further abetted by the grease from the sweat of the current summer heat).  For one whose life relies on order and beauty, the motherland is surely a poor choice of residence. 

Dirt is mostly detestable because it creates an outward feeling of being unclean.  I mean, it's true--what I don't see I don't concern myself with (e.g. all that bacteria out there), but dirt, now that's visible to the human eye, and hence I'm repulsed.

The saying is that 'a little dirt don't hurt.'  But how about when dirt becomes your status quo?  I dunno.  It still bothers me.

Have I considered, though, that which is utterly repellant within me?

I am full of earth, You are heaven's worth
I am stained with dirt, prone to depravity
And You are everything that is bright and clean
The antonym of me, You are divinity
What a certain sign of grace is this
From a broken earth flowers come up
Pushing through the dirt  (D. Crowder)

But that's just it.  That juxtaposition of what is dirt and what is clean.  And He who is the Remover of all that is dirt within me, making me...clean.    

The Camera Adds 10 lbs.

'It looks like you gained weight,' my aunt said when she saw me over Skype today.  See web cam shot at left.  Locals consistently say I look skinnier when they see me.  And its not as if a whole lot of time elapses from when I see them.  I absolutely hate when people say that I'm skinny.  Like, do I want to be this thin?  I eat a whole lot.  No, I don't have tapeworm, I'm not anorexic or bulimic.  And yes, it isn't fair.  P.S.  A public service announcement.  If your child bears striking resemblance to a watermelon in shape and volume, do not add further insult to injury by dressing them as a literal watermelon.  Such are the habits of locals here.

Let Freedom Ring.

How good it is to be a person who is free-no longer under the condemnation of that which once enslaved me.  Not all have come to enjoy this freedom.  Of these are those  unaware of their chains.  Perhaps they have never been presented the choice to be free (indeed, reason to be here).  

I think this issue of freedom hits on different levels, such that the life I have committed here has come to uncover the tension between the freedom I enjoy and the reality of trying to win some.  Oh how I long for a cha siu bao or a nice Hawaiian pizza.  Or to be rid of this encryption.  Am I not free? 

There comes a point where witholding our right doesn't make sense.  As Opposition bears down, there are compelling reasons to chuck it all and say the heck with it.  And believe me, that's crossed my mind more than once out here.

Freedom--how do you enjoy it?  Surely not many by giving it up.

Spaghetti and Skype.

So I wrote about being homesick last time.  But there are ways to deal with it such that all is not such a giant pity party.  Thanks to some ground lamb meat I found at the supermarket, I decided that I would make some spaghetti, qing zhen style.  Something about being able to make spaghetti for yourself makes you less homesick (think, comfort food). And though I was without the benefit of Prego or Ragu, I think it tasted decently enough.  Thanks to my sis who sent over some Italian Seasoning.  You have to have something from home, right?

Skype is also a best friend to the modern day field worker.  Thanks to Jetsons-like technology I can now communicate face to face with friends and family from home.  WK's webcam was acting funny though yesterday.  About every minute the image would move and subsequently freeze in an unpredictable moment.  I was trying to capture a funnier moment, but I only caught her in a good one.  So she can't be too mad at me for posting...

Out of It.

Few people from home ask the appropriate questions that relate to what's going on in my heart as I'm here.  This is not to lay guilt on anyone--rather to say that there is much I cannot articulate.  I'm finding that I operate in somewhat of a third dimension...neither home home nor finding that my new life here is quite home yet (if that makes any sense).

Since I've been away, there has been birth, death, marriage, divorce, and break-up.  There have been changes in you which I'm not even aware, and yet some haven't changed at all.  My heart longs to be home, though I'm not even sure what coming home would even look like.  The longer that I'm here, the further I am from the realities of home (is it vain to think that life should revolve around me?).  I was led to the extreme the other day when I had to google to see if someone I knew had gotten married.  I'm out of it, I know.

I guess the definitive label for this would be homesickness, though I know that when home I might just wish I was here again.  Yesterday my local friend remarked to me in Ch, "you never imagined a life like this when you were in the States, huh?"  Nope, this wasn't what I imagined.  I'm actually not sure what I imagined anymore.  It's certainly been more than I've bargained for.

No, this isn't a pity party.  Just to say, I couldn't be here unless I knew that Home is neither here nor there.  [And to those who are where I call 'home,' you have been more than gracious.  Thank you for journeying with me.]

"I'm a panda.  I want to go on the teacups."

If that makes no sense to you, you're in good company.  If this is an oft used phrase in your conversations, enlighten me.  Do you regularly speak with pandas?  How about peacocks?  Geese? Children around here are often subjected to a nonsensical, and all together militaristic way of learning--it's no wonder that after 10+ years of learning they still can't carry out a decent conversation if and when they reach the university level.  "Peacock...Peacock...Peacock..." went the class as each student bobbed up and down from their seats to individually repeat and practice.  What got me was when they got to "goose" and each student repeated with "Goose-AH."  Oh no, no, no.      

I will not save the motherland's English by being an English teacher here.  I'm actually aiming at what seems a more impossible task, but one with Promise. Is it necessary that we teach English along the way?  Doesn't it substantiate others who claim that we are merely pulling the 'ol switch and bait?  That's why I get slightly ticked about those who regard the whole teaching endeavor as a means to an end.  Sure, I carry an Agenda, but I'm going to work at my craft with all my heart such that who I am is plain to all men.  In the world of panda and teacups, this is huge.    

Dear Dad.

There are particular sentiments attached to my father which often go unexpressed--sentiments which undergird the importance of a father in the life of his daughter. No guy that I know occupies such a place in my heart, with the exception of the Guy to whom all of Life derives its origin.     

I am my father's daughter.  I'm proud that my life bears his likeness.  My dad and I operate on the same plane.  We communicate much the same, which is by non-communicating.  My sister and my mom can talk the day away, and my dad and I will silently ingest our surroundings, without thought to express our minds.  My dad has a silent, gentle, public demeanor.  I like to think I have the same.  My dad is wise.  He is the one to whom I have demanded answers to the 'whys' of life.  I like that people now come to me with their questions, though I don't profess to have all the answers.  My dad is a jack of all trades, and I tell him I am, too--though we both know that we don't do any one thing particularly well--we just like to think we dabble in everything.  Most of all, I just like that I'm like him.

It matters what my dad thinks.  I would have never survived adolescence without his repeated affirmation of his love for me.  Now that I am grown my dad is the only guy to whom I will let show my weaknesses and allow for help.  I don't mind being helpless in his presence.  I don't feel like a wimp asking for his help, either.  He's my dad, and I know he thinks the world of me regardless.

Dad, I can't wait until you're here next month, when we'll sow and reap in this Great Harvest together.  My daddy's coming soon!

Jieshu Le.

"Jieshu le!" my tutor's cousin shouted as he launched the basketball into the air.  Sure enough, the ball went in, and the game was over.  I lost. 

Somehow over these last several months he's managed to grow taller than me and hone his game such that he commented today, 'you don't play as well as you used to.'  Ha, used to would be right if I had any skills to begin with.  And did I mention that the last time I played with him he ended up in the hospital with a bum ankle which didn't heal for over a month?  Still I laughed it off and blamed the increasingly hot weather to be at fault.  

I fear he's outgrown me and wonder as he heads into his teenage years who will be the one to influence him.   I remember my own biaodi at that age, how he still would hang out with me until all of a sudden he became too cool and aloof for that.   My ability to engage my cousin's tutor today in a conversation on sports ran flat as I realized I can't even talk about the NBA with intelligence anymore.  And forget about the World Cup--I haven't a clue on soccer, the dominant sport in all other countries save the good 'ol US of A.  

Here is where I'll say, I am a girl [note, not girly girl], and any such male presence who could step in would be greatly appreciated .  But I speak of an issue not so readily resolved... 

Which Card to Play.

The thing about being a bicultural expat whose identity 'shares' in part with the target culture is that you can have some liberty as to which card that you'll play at certain times.  (Other times you have no choice at all).  

I haven't quite created a rule of thumb as to when I'll pull the American card or the Ch. one.  It's often unpredictable, and also varies with my mood.  I feel that there are particular 'injustices' in having a Ch. face here since the American card isn't always acceptable to the locals.  Still, when given a choice, I'll play either card for all its worth.

Take for example my trip to Green Island.  I was getting frustrated trying to confirm our hotel reservation when I used my Ch.  Long story that I won't go into.  But then I used my English on the next phone call and all was magically better.  "Yes Ms. Lee, no problem Ms. Lee."  When we finally arrived at the hotel the man at the concierge looked up my name and said in Ch. "Oh, it was you I talked to the other day...why did you use English?  You were scaring me."  I laughed it off.

On the flip side, those who have toured this great land also know that there are separate prices quoted for either local or foreign tourists.  Guess which card I'll play for that one. 

Today one of the office workers at my school approached me for help with English.  He had two paragraphs for me to review.  I asked him why he was writing these and he said he was writing them for a friend whose son is in middle school.  "So you're writing it for him?" I asked.  "That's just wrong...[If back home, I would have added the dude for emphasis]...I'm not going to look at it."  I had just finished a conversation with another person about how furious I was over a student I had in the States who plagiarized.  I continued to lecture, "In the States, that's like a serious crime."  I got the other teachers in the room to agree with me.  The office worker then said, "But it's different here."  And the way he looked at me he seemed to imply that I, of all people, should know.  Later on he remarked, "So thank you for being so righteous."  He said it in English (his second language), and though he probably meant it as a positive, when someone calls you righteous, it just isn't necessarily a compliment.  

What card did I play there?  Well, easily my American sense of right and wrong.

There's another card yet to be played.  It's the one from the other citizenship that I have.  That card is a bit trickier to play here, yet all the same, needs to be played.