India

Important: my India address has been changed to 

Manda Parikh 
Indian Society for Community Education 
Community Education House off Ashram Road
Navjivan Press Road
Ahmedabad, Gujarat
India

Shrooms

12/2/11

            This isn’t my story, but I feel you all will appreciate it anyway. Last night Andrew’s host family served mushrooms. Now these were the most delicious mushrooms he had ever tasted.  Andrew was gobbling them down, when his mother told him not to eat too many, or he would “see little people.” Today in class Andrew asked Charles (our Chinese teacher) if his family had had him shrooming. The way Charles explained it was, “Yunnan has 250 types of mushrooms. 80 of them are just a little bit poisonous.” We all got quite a kick out of that one.

            The mushroom conversation led to a conversation on drugs in China in general. Did you know that drug dealing is punishable by death here? Marijuana, however, is not considered a drug. Many just call it “the local cigarette.” Apparently it grows naturally here. It’s a weed, just as its nickname would indicate. Charles said there’s even some growing at the zoo!

            He was surprised that we hadn’t gone any place that served us marijuana tea yet. In Peru we were drinking coca (of the cocaine family) tea, and here we’ve got marijuana tea. What’s next? Heroin tea in India? Crystal Meth tea in South Africa?

            We learned so many random facts in Chinese class today! We were all horrified to learn that the police kill several street vendors every year. Right here in Kunming! They call it “keeping the streets clean.” We all took it very hard, because we all share a deep love for the street vendors. That and the atrocity being committed against humanity.  

            Last random fact, I promise! Charles says that men here are encouraged to smoke instead of eating snacks. Apparently eating snacks is a sign that a man is gay. I love Charles, but I’m not sure I believe him on this one.

            I thought that my homestay parents were pronouncing things differently from one another, but today Charles confirmed my suspicions. One of my parents is indeed causing me to develop a regional accent. As if Chinese weren’t hard enough! Now I have to figure out what’s Mandarin, and what’s part of the local dialect. I think it’s my mother’s fault. I know, always blame the mother. I’m not sure how to ask, but I think she’s one of the regional minorities. So the accent would make sense. My reasoning is that both she and her sister have curly hair, darker skin, and fuller lips. And well, it’s Yunnan.

            Tonight I attended my second Chinese wedding. That makes 33% of all the weddings I’ve attended in my life Chinese! It was the same deal as the first wedding. Same giant wedding complex, same quick ceremony, same hundreds of casually dressed guests. The only difference was that there was more entertainment and the food was not as good. During the meal, three girls (just like at the restaurant after the Bird and Flower Market) performed half-hearted dances. Afterwards, a man who I swear was the Chinese version of Agustin Magaldi took the stage, and began belting what I can only assume was a Chinese version of “On this Night of a Thousand Stars.”

Love,

Katherine

Ca-fe-ter-i-a

11/29/11

            I haven’t spent enough time in my kitchen. I only today noticed all of the sausages hanging from the ceiling.

            Today was our first day teaching a class that we were actually prepared for. By this I mean that they gave us our topic more than five minutes beforehand, so we were able to come up with a lesson plan and a presentation. The second class gave me my first glimmer of hope that we might actually get something accomplished. The students paid attention, they asked questions, they learned the word “cafeteria.” They even seemed interested. Connor, Allison, and I were relatively competent!

            The first class was a mess. Instead of sixty students for three teachers, they lobbed groups A and B together so that we had six teachers for about one hundred and fifty students. We were in a giant lecture hall, and quickly had to throw our lesson plans out the window when we learned that it had zero projection capabilities. There were none of the student’s regular teachers in the room, leaving them with no incentive to behave. They weren’t horrible…not compared with how American students would have behaved…not compared with how I would have behaved. They were just slightly hyper and distracted. It wasn’t their fault; it was impossible to hear. Even when we broke into smaller groups, there were still one hundred and forty-nine other students talking in the room. When I’ve seen real teachers teaching in that ballroom, they always have microphones. Where were our mikes? It’ll be fine. We’re adjusting. We’ll figure it out. I hope…

            At least the students really do seem to like us. After class they were all asking for our e-mail addresses and autographs. I think I’m going to take a picture of us teachers with each of our classes and distribute a copy to each student before we leave. I call it putting “take a picture it lasts longer,” to literal use.

Love,

Katherine

P.S. Here is the sweetest e-mail that I just received from one of my students:

Dear friend:

     I am the little girl who is activity in you class! Do you still remember me ? I think I

 can be your best pen pal ,do you think so? I think that you like me so much!! Ha...

    And now ,let me tell you something about my day !

    In the morning ,I often get up at 6:45, then I have my breakfast at 7:00 ,sometimes

I eat milk and biscults ,sometimes I eat egg and  bread ! And I go to shool early and

I stay in the shool with my classmates and teachers until 18:00! Then I  go home and

do my homework next!   I often go to bed at 23:00.

  This is my day ! How about you? I am excepting your letter...Please writing to me

soon~

Your new  Chinese friend:Cynthia

Gods Cast Blessings Over Dream Lijiang People Spend Soft Time in Leisured Lijiang

11/27/11

            For my Chinese Independent Student Travel, Michelle and I chose the beautiful city of Lijiang. I got my first experience of an overnight sleeper train! It’s crazy how tall those things are. On the way there, Michelle and I both had bottom bunks. The bunks above us were empty, so we had the whole compartment to ourselves. Of course, there wasn’t a door, so I still had to sleep with my purse as a pillow. We fell asleep watching Mean Girls on the laptop, and before I knew it the ten hours were up and we had arrived. The bedclothes were clean; therefore I had quite a pleasant time. On the way back we weren’t so lucky. We both had top bunks, and the couple beneath us had a thousand suitcases and a six-month-old baby.  Both times we were the only foreigners we could see on these massive trains.

            We spent all of our time exploring the old city of Lijiang. The city is set up like a Labyrinth, and we could wander for hours. The streets were cobblestones, and the buildings were all original (on the outsides) and stunning with red lanterns. Different sections of the maze contained different types of stores. There were fancy jade shops, touristy trinket shops, and authentic Naxi (the native Chinese minority inhabitants of Lijiang) product shops. In other areas there were insane Chinese only (I’ve decided) markets. Imagine crates upon crates containing thousands of chickens, geese, ducks, pigeons, rabbits, and even a few dogs.  Pigs and sheep were hanging upside-down being skinned. And blood, everywhere. The crates were completely inhumane, and the stench horrible, but hey, how many people can say they’ve seen that? Besides the shops and markets, we spent the rest of our time teahouse hopping (for reading purposes,) and tasting the local cuisine.

            Once again, I could talk about the food for hours. Quail eggs on a stick, delicious. Globby green and purple blobs with no taste except sticky, not so much. Yak yogurt in glass jars with wax paper lids, that you drink with a straw, marvelous. Walnut shaped cakes with walnut and sugar centers, made fresh on an old-fashioned batter/mold machines, even better. And for the grand finale: bugs on a stick. It wasn’t the taste of the grasshoppers that bothered me; they had been cooked with a nice spice. The charcoal texture wasn’t even so bad, just annoying. It was seeing the whole grasshopper there in front of me that was so disconcerting. I got down two.

            And of course, like in most tourist traps, the main attraction was the native group exploiting their culture. It was just like that day in Los Naranjos when all of the Tsa’chilla got all dressed up for the Swiss tour group.  In the town center Naxi (pronounced Nahshee) women in traditional dress were leading the tourist in a dance. A couple of yards away the men were posed on horses for pictures. Although I’m pretty sure just as many people were taking pictures of us white girls as of the Naxi.  I may sound high and mighty about tourists, so I must admit how much of a sucker I was for those old-fashioned sewing machines making tiny leather shoes.

            In Lijiang I became very aware of how young I am. On the sleeper trains, in the hostel, on the streets, the closest people to Michelle’s and my age were with their parents. Last year I could never have imagined myself doing such things with only another teenager.

Love,

Katherine

P.S. If you’re ever in Lijiang, stay at the Panba Hostel. Michelle and I had our own spotlessly clean room, our own bathroom with hot water, and Wi-Fi! For only $10 an night per person!

           

Happy Fire Chicken Day!

11/25/11

            My first Thanksgiving away from home was…well…different. Besides my homestay mother (the native) sending me (the new arrival) off to school with two apples and a pomegranate (I usually just get the one apple,) the morning was business as usual. We had Chinese class, where I learned that “turkey” in Chinese literally translates as “fire chicken.” Can you believe it, we even had seminar! My leaders were very impressed by my ability to pay attention while drawing hand turkeys.

            Then we were whisked away for Thanksgiving lunch at an “American” restaurant. The turkey was imported and tasted fine. The cranberry sauce wasn’t fake enough for my tastes. The pumpkin pie was excellent. And the sweet potatoes, I have to say, were even better than at home. Sorry Mother! There was also lasagna and empanadas… I’m not quite sure why. At the end of the meal I was pleasantly nauseous, so I suppose it was a success.

            Then we were set free and all went in separate directions for our Independent Student Travel. My sleeper train didn’t leave until 10pm, so I spent the afternoon stuffing envelopes for TBB while listening to Christmas carols, and watching Forest Gump with the stragglers. Thankfully, I had gone to the American store the day before, and stocked up on American food for dinner. I had my second feast of the day of Pringles, snack pack butterscotch pudding cups, digestive cookies, root beer, and pop rocks that my mother had sent me from home.

            My next morning I got to Skype with my family.  In CT it was still Thanksgiving, and there were about forty people crowded around the computer to talk to me. Coincidentally, my family had six Chinese people over for the meal, two of which don’t speak any English! My family loves their stragglers!

            Hope you all had wonderful Thanksgivings!

Love,

Katherine

Ladies Who Lunch

11/21/11

Yesterday I went out with the ladies who lunch, Chinese edition. And I must say, middle-aged Chinese ladies are very similar to middle-aged Jewish ladies. Both are shrill, both tell you you’re beautiful then force you to eat more. And for a more concrete example: both play mahjong.  Except mahjong here is like American mahjong on steroids. There are two sets of tiles, and while you’re playing with one set, the machine inside the special mahjong table mixes the other. Also, they play without cards. I wonder if they’ve memorized all the combinations. Yes, I realize I’ve lost half of you by now.

            Lunch was a blast. My homestay mother’s friend who reminds me of my Aunt Rita was there, and she was a riot. My homestay brother and his girlfriend were there too, bickering as usual. How do I know that they’re bickering if I don’t speak Chinese you ask? Well I just do. They’re such a funny couple; she’s a full head taller than he is. Also in attendance was a mother daughter pair. The daughter, much to my delight, spoke some English. She was able to tell me that I was eating “pig face.” I think I might have preferred not to know, but after chicken feet, I can handle anything.

            They ordered a Roman Feast’s worth of food. We were in a fancy Lazy Susan restaurant (so fancy you couldn’t throw your bones on the floor,) and had eleven dishes for seven people. Thank goodness one of the few phrases in Chinese that I know is, “I’m full.”

            Afterwards, the waitresses wanted to take pictures with me. A few times now our group members have been stopped for pictures with “the whites.” I expect it should be much worse though in India. I think it’s interesting how white upper-middle class kids in the US like to bitch and moan about the lack of diversity in our suburbias. If we saw someone of another race walking down the street, we wouldn’t so much a blink. Here, and in Ecuador as well, we get flat out gawked at.

That afternoon I met Jack. Jack was born in Taiwan, but lived in LA for thirty-eight years, and is an American citizen. He came to Yunnan for retirement. He used to own a very successful seafood restaurant in LA. Now he owns a clothing store in Kunming that sells American brands. His son makes a quarter of a million dollars a year working for Nordstrom, and his daughter works for AT&T. Her husband, his son-in-law, works for the FBI. And would I like some tea? And here’s his card. And I’m to call him if I need anything, anything! If I ever need to tell my homestay parents something, call him and he’ll explain. If I’m ever in trouble, call him! And if I like duck I should go to the restaurant across the street. Call him!

            So it turns out that I was invited to the wedding on Sunday night. It was quite an experience. The wedding took place in a giant wedding factory, where as many as five weddings can take place at the same time. When we arrived, all of the brides and grooms were standing outside in white wedding dresses and tuxes to greet their guests. Bridesmaids and groomsmen held trays of candy, nuts, and cigarettes. My mother took a handful of candy and insisted I put it into my purse.  We walked into a giant dining room, with free seating for the approximately five hundred guests. The meal began before the bride and groom had re-entered. If I thought there had been a lot of food at lunch, my whole perception of what a lot of food is was then changed.  There was so much food that they had to pile the platters on top of one another on the lazy susan. Every possible meat you could think of was served, in addition to spicy noodles, soup, dumplings, sticky rice, and probably six different types of vegetables.  Everyone at the table kept serving me more and more food. But my mother, such a sweetheart, protected me from spicy food and fish. I don’t know how she learned that I don’t like fish, but I could tell she did by the way she kept taking the fish out of my bowl and eating it herself.

            In the middle of the meal, the bride and groom entered. The bride had changed into a traditional red Chinese dress, and was carried onto a stage with a Bat-Mitzvah DJ type announcer inside a box with red curtains. The ceremony began with the bride and groom each serving a cup of tea to his/her mother and father. I don’t know how the bride could see with that red veil over her head. The ceremony was very quick, no more than ten minutes. At the conclusion, the bride and groom kissed only on the cheek. Besides their parents, I think I may have been the only one watching. Everyone else went on eating and talking right through the ceremony.

            After the ceremony, the bride changed into a silk red dress. Then the bride and groom did a shot with each and every table. And there were five hundred guests! I don’t know how they were still standing.  After about three shots, all the middle-aged woman who “never smoke” lit up. The smoke was horrible. The first thing I did when I got home was wash my hair.

            The wedding feast began at about six, and by eight everyone was getting up to leave. I’ve never been to such a short wedding. As I was leaving, a drunk man shoved a whole bunch of peanuts and sunflower seeds into my purse. I guess it really was time to go.

            I can’t believe I got to go to a Chinese wedding! How exciting is that!

Love,

Katherine

Bird and Flower Market - Take #3

11/20/11

            Should Tylenol Cold & Cough cost $1.50? Hmmm… I learned an important lesson yesterday: never go alone to get your haircut in a foreign city where you don’t speak the language. When I showed the man that I just wants a small amount off (just to get the dead ends,) he took that to mean just a small amount off the shortest pieces, and even everything else out. Now all of my hair is the length it was in the front, a little below the shoulders. I just keep telling myself, “hair grows, hair grows, hair grows.”

            Yesterday was Saturday, and I spent my morning off exploring the area around my apartment. It was a beautiful day for just wandering. At home I never realized how wonderful wandering by yourself could be.

            When I got home my mother signaled to me to put on shoes, and I blindly followed her and her sister to the bus stop. This is what my life is like now; I never have any idea of where I’m going until I get there. We ended up at the Bird and Flower Market. At this market you can buy anything from flowers, to birds, to tourist trinkets, to expensive jade, to minority treasures, to teacup pigs. It probably would have been slightly more exciting for me if I hadn’t been twice in the last week. The first time was by choice; the second I ended up there on a scavenger hunt. Oh well, I do enjoying seeing teacup pigs and the most splendid birdcages imaginable. I would by a bird just so I could own one of those birdcages. But I’m not sure how my host family would react if I showed up with a bird… I did by a beautiful Miao (a Chinese minority) hairpin.

When I went to the market with Sara and Allison (my first trip,) we ended up eating this horrible sugary gelatinous goop for dinner. This time, my mother knew a slightly better place to go. She took me to a dinner and a show type restaurant. As we were eating, three teenage girls in ill-fitting costumes performed various minority dances. Yunnan just loves its minorities. Only one of the girls seemed to really know the dances, and no one paid them much attention. Apparently the specialty of the restaurant was make-your-own soup in giant bowls. Seriously, I could have fit my entire head in one of those bowls! Then again, I do have a small head. As for the make-your-own part, all the fixings came to our table on a plate, and my mother simply poured them all in. It tasted fine. My mother and her sister did not order it. I think they just wanted me to have the experience, which was sweet of them.

Love,

Katherine

Dynamic Yunnan

11/19/11

Dear Everyone,

            As promised, Andrew and I took Rich and her friends to Salvador’s for some “typical” American food. We ordered French toast to represent breakfast, a hamburger to represent lunch, spaghetti with meat sauce to represent dinner, and a quesadilla…well it’s not really American anyway so… just because.

            They seemed to like the food, or at least they were good at pretending. They pronounced it “special.” I think the cheese really threw them though. They don’t really do dairy here.  The best part was watching them trying to use a fork and knife. They were fumbling as badly as I was with chopsticks when I first arrived. Teaching them to twirl the spaghetti was a hilarious mess; payback for all the times our chopstick skills have been made fun of! Thankfully, this time they let us pay.

            Last night our group went to see a dance show called “Dynamic Yunnan.” “Dynamic Yunnan is a grand, original ethnic dance musical. It fuses beauty of Yunnan ethnic minorities dance and songs with the power of modern stage exhibition. Through the artistic director's reorganization and recreation of the essence of traditional songs and dance with the most classic style of folk dance, the richness of the culture of Yunnan minorities is born again on stage with startling effects.” Yunnan is obsessed with its Chinese minorities. Seventy percent of the dancers were from minority groups. Some of the dances, especially the “Moon Dance” and the “Peacock Dance,” were especially beautiful. However, Chinese minority singing is not my thing. It is much too shrill (I know I’m one to talk.) It also really bothered me that in the most highly awarded Chinese dance show, only half of the chorus girls really had their lip sinking act together. Not to mention the fact that they were even lip sinking at all. Still, the drums and Tibetan dances were pretty cool, and the show was an experience I’m very glad to have had.

Love,

Katherine

“Sixty Children!” – Fraulein Katherine

11/18/11

            It’s funny, some of us are finding our homestay parents much more overbearing than even our biological parents.  Andrew says we’re being “Tiger Mom-ed.” For example, when Michelle arrive fifteen minutes later than planned yesterday, she came home to a freaking out family who had already called all of our leaders and Chinese teachers. Some people find it frustrating, but when it’s just for a month, I find it pretty hilarious. Our fun night of photo albums and Google Translate came to an end, when I was told, “you go read a book now.” There is no bigger smile on my mother’s face than when she finds me writing at my desk. She always holds onto my arm when we cross the street. She  freaking takes the shells off the chestnuts for me! When I returned home from the theatre last night, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised to find her waiting up for me. It’s just that in CT, my parents just always asked me what time I got home the next morning. She’s even memorized my shower schedule. Which means I’m going to have to break the irregular bathing habits that I picked up in Ecuador. I’ve already told you about how I’m not allowed to do anything for myself. And G-D dammit my mother will get me to eat a tomato like an apple if it’s the last thing she does. But I will not eat that tomato because A) I am not hungry, and B) she did not cook that tomato, so should not be offended that I have no interest in eating it. I just think that so many miles away from our families, it’s nice to have people who care so much about us.

            Another perk of having a family that speaks no English is that they’re hell-bent on teaching me Chinese. I’ve never been great with languages, so I’ve decided this is a good thing. A shrill woman tapping at you incessantly to repeat is an excellent motivator.

            This Sunday I’m either attending a wedding with my family, or they’re leaving me to attend a wedding. I’m not sure which, but I really hope it’s the former. You see, “Sunday we are attending a wedding,” is quite confusing wording. I just need to find out in time to figure out if I need to get something to wear.

            For our work project in China, we will be teaching English in a secondary school. Allison, Connor, and I will be sharing classes of eighth graders (by the American grade system.) We haven’t started teaching yet, right now we’re just observing classes.

            The best way I can describe the school, is by telling you that they have military men come in to help the children practice marching. When I first entered the school gates to see hundreds of children marching in perfect time, wearing matching uniforms, I felt like Fraulein Maria. Except, instead of seven children, I will have several classes of sixty.

            Our first day we were just given a tour. The second day we sat in on two classes. Biology was alright, the kids were very friendly and had me looking through their microscopes. Chinese Lit was unbearable. I swear I saw Connor go for five full minutes without blinking. However boring it became towards the end, I was grateful to see what we’re getting into. It wasn’t at all like the experimental middleschool.  At the beginning of class the teacher shouted something, and all of the students rose and greeted him in unison. In fact, there was a lot of chanting in unison, and whenever a student spoke he or she rose. Unlike an American school, where a teacher can easily lose control of twenty students, the teacher had complete control over the sixty of them. Our Chinese teacher likes to say, “In America, the teachers are afraid of the parents. In China, the parents are afraid of the teachers.” No one spoke or whispered to their desk-mate during class; no one doodled. For forty minutes all of the students sat on backless stools, and at least pretended to pay attention. The one thing that I really didn’t like, was that it seemed humiliation was a form of motivation. Every time a student answered incorrectly, the entire class broke out in laughter. The teacher did nothing to stop them.

            I wonder what it’s going to be like teaching in a school that’s so different. In China, school goes from 7am until 5pm. Everything is focused on a big test taken the June before graduation. This test decides which caliber of university students will attend, or if they can attend at all. The entire last year of school is dedicated to reviewing for this test alone. It’s way more intense than the SAT. Additionally, if I’m going to be boring you with facts, the entire education system is much more focused on memorization and teaching-to-the-test than the American education system. Many complain that there is an extreme lack of creativity and independent thought.

            The children all seemed very excited to have us there though. Many came up to me  to ask me about myself after class. One even asked for my phone number. And the Chinese are so shy. Their English was very impressive. Now I’m less nervous about teaching a class where everyone stares at me blankly and has no idea what I’m saying. Perhaps we can do something fun for Thanksgiving.

            Today we couldn’t start teaching because the students began their three day Field Day on steroids. Their school is so huge that they had to rent a stadium for the event. We were invited, and put in the VIP section to watch the festivities. Today consisted of an hour-long parade, followed by endless races, long jumps, and shot-put competitions.

            Sometimes I wonder how on earth I got here. Never during my childhood did I ever believe that I would end up watching a parade led by a communist flag. What decisions got me to such a place? How can I keep on making these types of decisions in the future?

Love,

Katherine

P.S. I’m not a communist, I just think it’s something interesting that most Americans will never experience.

a Rich experience

11/16/11

One of the best parts of our situation in Kunming is that we are surrounded by universities, the perfect setting for making friends. Our first Thursday here, they took us to the English Corner at Green Lake Park, where Chinese learning English meet to practice together. Of course the second we arrived we were mobbed by eager English speakers. I believe at the height of it, each of us was working our own group of about eleven. I was lucky enough to meet Rich (not her Chinese name) and her friends, a group of eighteen-year-old Hindi majors, who attend the same university as I do for Chinese lessons! Let me tell you, Hindi majors are way cooler than Key and the other Tai majors. Psssh Tai majors.

People here keep saying how shy the Chinese are, but I don’t believe that’s true. I believe the Chinese believe they’re shy. So far I’ve been approached numerous times by mothers wanting their children to practice greeting me in English, Key and her gaggle of friends, and a collection of other wonderful randoes on the streets. Although, perhaps I get this kind of thing more often because I look so completely non-threatening. But I digress.

Within half and hour, Rich had invited me to a food festival, promised to take me to her yoga class, and taken my (well TBB’s) cell number. Cynical me, I never expected her to call, but what do you know, Sunday she and her friends took Andrew and me to the food festival! It was a blast! She and her friends were hilarious, and immediately she had linked her arm in mine, and was telling me which foods to try. I tried octopus on a stick, the world’s smelliest tofu, pear tea, fish-ball soup (like the world’s worst matzo-ball imaginable,) candied fruit on a stick, painfully spicy noodles, sweet rice cakes, cotton candy (just for S’s&G’s,) and some strange Tai thing with egg, beansprouts, and ketchup. I don’t know how smart it was to eat octopus from a street vendor, but I’m pretty sure that after Ecuador I have an iron stomach.

Next we went to the park, and stumbled upon some Miao (a Chinese minority) dancers, in full garb.  Many people were joining in, and once again with the shy thing, “no I couldn’t. I’m too shy. Here hold my things, step ball change.” It was a great time.

The only part that made me uncomfortable, was that they wouldn’t let me pay for anything. Rich kept saying, “but you’re my guest.” It must be a cultural thing. Regardless, to ease our guilt (as well as for our own enjoyment,) Andrew and I are taking our new friends out to Salvador’s (an American restaurant) for lunch tomorrow.  Can you believe it? I made Chinese friends! 

Monday was my first full day in homestay. I woke up, and for breakfast was severed something brown that looked like meat, but did not have the taste or texture of meat. It was fried, and sort of sweet, and sort of sticky. I have since asked my teacher, and found out that it’s fried jellied lotus flower. It doesn’t taste at all bad, but I’m still not sure what lotus flower is.

            Afterwards, my mother gave me an apple for snack, and walked me to school (to show me they way.) It’s an easy twenty-minute walk, about the same distance as from my house in CT to Weston High. It’s also about the same distance as my home in Los Naranjos was from the cultural center. It’s surprising how much quicker it goes when there are no crazy hills to climb, insane dogs, wet work boots, or a full day of physical labor holding you back. Anyway, my mother gave me a hug to say goodbye, and I was truly touched.

            I came home that night, to find several guests in the living room. There was an old man, a man in his twenties, and a middle-aged woman who didn’t stay for very long. The man in his twenties was very nice, and I was so excited to finally have someone at the dinner table that spoke English! He cleared so many things up for me, meanwhile serving me large quantities of food with his chopsticks. The woman in her twenties is the girlfriend of the man who drove me home, my homestay brother. Turns out, she doesn’t live with us at all, she just spends every waking moment here! The old man is my homestay uncle. And although they had me going for about half an hour that my brother and the English-speaking guest were brothers (despite the two foot height difference,) I finally discovered that they are coworkers. I think my brother is holding back on me, I think he knows more English than he lets on. Oh well, at lease my homestay coworker takes an interest in me.

            I’m really enjoying my family, the one thing that frustrates me sometimes is that they won’t let me help with anything. I can’t set the table. Every time I try to clear they signal for me to put it down. I’m not even allowed to do my own laundry. I’m very interested in learning Chinese cooking, but even when I phrased it this way to my mother she wouldn’t let me help cook. Charles (the Chinese teacher) says it’s because I’m their guest, and that’s simply the culture, but I feel so useless. Also, I really want to learn to cook Chinese food!

            Ooooh, and about the laundry. When I got it back, I was wondering where all my socks had gone. They showed up the next day. The Chinese Foot Intricacies continue! Charles said that the Chinese always wash the socks separately. How interesting is that?

            I’m starting to realize that getting a family that doesn’t speak any English was actually a blessing. From the stories of my TBB peers, it sounds like the families with some English skills are just using their homestay students as private English tutors. Whereas my family seems genuinely interested in me. I have never seen anyone spend so much time examining a photo album. I believe my parents spent a good forty-five minutes looking at each picture two or three times, and asking me to describe the situation via Google Translate.  Halloween was a tough one. The next day when my mother had a friend over, she even had me pull it out again, and they spent a while going through it. Another plus about the English thing: unlike my peers, no one’s asked me how much money my father makes. Once again, it’s cultural.

            Well, I’m learning to hold my bowl to my face as I eat, and throw my bones on the table. I’m also forcing down chicken feet, which are cold and don’t look nearly as bad as they taste. That’s all for now!

Love,

Katherine

Mama

11/14/11

Dear Everyone,

            I can’t remember my old standards, but by my post-Ecuadorian ones, I am living in the lap of luxury. For the first time in ten weeks, I have my own room! My own desk, with my own lamp, my own drawers where for the first time I can unpack my clothes. Across the hall is a bathroom, with not only a sit-down toilet (most places in China have squat-toilets) and a mirror, but a bathtub! For a city apartment, I think this place is on the very large size. Besides my bedroom and the bathroom, there are two much larger bedrooms, a nice sized living room, a dining room, a small drying room, and a strangely long and narrow kitchen. Everything is nicely furnished, even if a little doilied for my taste.  And despite the ashtrays everywhere (including the bathtub,) it smells remarkably fresh.

            Today we sat like puppies in a window, sweating in the freezing cold, waiting until five for our families to pick us up. My mother came to fetch me, and I became even more nervous when I realized that she speaks zero English. But she seemed very excited to meet me, and led me out of the room by the elbow, chattering all the way. She told  me to call her “Mama.” It was very reassuring.  Before we left, she even asked one of our language teachers if I like spicy food. With Yunnan’s obsession with spice, thank goodness for that!  I just keep telling myself, with no one speaking English, it’s more of a “cultural experience.”

            We were driven home by a man who did not introduce himself, in a pristine Toyota sedan, with two sets of seat coverings. When we arrived I met my host father, who seemed very enthusiastic. He putters, my host father, a paired with my host mother’s chattering, they are a very endearing couple. I also met the driver who appears to be in his mid-twenties, and a woman also in her mid-twenties who shares his room. I’m not sure if they are my homestay brother and his wife, my homestay sister and her husband, of simply homestay tenants. Either way, they did not seem very interested in me.

            Dinner was wonderful. I hadn’t expected so many options, but there were as many dishes as at the Lazy Susan restaurants. There was a delicious chicken with red peppers, a less delicious meat I think was also chicken with something else, and even a third pretty horrible boiled chicken. There were also stringy potatoes, something I think was lotus, and the best beans of my life. My mother was even kind enough to leave out the spice, and put it in a dish on the side. Here, everyone serves themselves with chopsticks. Some food goes into his or her bowl, some goes straight into the mouth. Originally they left me to serve myself, but when I didn’t eat a satisfactory amount, they started serving me with their chopsticks as they served themselves. It was sweet though, they only served me the dishes they’d figured out I’d liked best. I was doing so well with the chopsticks, until it came to my bowl of rice, which wasn’t quite as sticky as in the restaurants. They handed me a spoon! I was very sad.

            After dinner, I tried to take off my coat, but somehow, without using any English, my mother managed to communicate to me that I had to put it back on or I’d get a cold. Charles, my Chinese teacher, had warned me about the Chinese fear of cold. They don’t even drink their water cold. So in Kunming where no one has heaters (there’re only a couple of months of moderate cold,) everyone goes around with their coats on 24/7. Charles also correctly warned me about the Chinese shoe intricacies. The moment I walked in the house, my street shoes had to come off, and I was handed a pair of slippers. For once in my life they actually fit! But I’m really going to have to kick my habit of sitting on one foot. It’s much too close to showing the soles of my feet, which is apparently a huge insult in Chinese culture.

            But back to after dinner. I spent a good deal of time on Google Translate with my homestay father, asking questions. Meanwhile, my homestay mother tried to force-feed me fruit, nuts, and candy. It was actually really fun.

            On a separate note, I miss the holiday season, I really do. After Halloween the lights are supposed to go up, the carols start intermingling with the regular songs on the radio, and oh, snow! But none of that’s happening here. When I saw a Starbucks, all decked out for Christmas, much to my leaders disgust, I just had to go in. They had red Christmas cups, and the special holiday flavors I love so much! They were playing Christmas carols, and it was just so warm and peaceful. I just wanted to lie down and take a nap in the only place of holiday spirit I may see all year. It made me a little homesick, but the good kind of homesick, I think.

Love,

Katherine