A Bike Down Memory Lane

Last weekend a friend was walking me to my car, wheeling along his bicycle so that we'd be going at the same pace.  It was late, it was freezing, and the two blocks to my car seemed endless.  Then I saw that my friend's bike had a flat rack over the back tire.  I remembered that I used to ride on the back of friends' bikes all the time in China.  My friend had never tried this and was kind of scared the balance wouldn't work out, but I told him to start riding slowly and I'd hop on...if I still remembered how.

Fortunately, I did remember.  The movement came back to me as muscle memory took over--I even managed to maneuver around my friend's backpack and sit down without shaking his balance.  I guess in addition to never forgetting how to ride a bike, you also never forget how to ride side saddle on the back of a bike.  With a few steps, and the quick hop-hop I took to get me ready to jump up while maintaining some forward momentum, I was overwhelmed by a visceral memory of living in China.  I often hear about songs or smells transporting you to another time or place, but I rarely think of movement having that power...but it did.  That's kind of a fun interpretation of muscle memory - not only does your brain tell your muscles to remember what to do, but your muscles doing something can tell your brain to remember something.

I went online to find a picture of someone biking side saddle for my headline picture, and I finally found one on an interesting posting about bikers in Amsterdam.  Then I remembered that I have some interesting photos of weird bikes in China.  Most of them, as you will see below, are resourceful re-workings of bikes to function as a business on wheels, but some are also of everyday commuters.

Amsterdam Bicycle Site, if you're interested:

http://www.ski-epic.com/amsterdam_bicycles/

 

rural bike

city bikes

 

three-wheeled taxi bike

 

your favorite blogger on a bike

furniture delivery bike

 mesh delivery bike, actually mesh delivery cart

recycle bike

huge chunks of coal bike

 

vegetable seller bike

 

bike repair shop bike

 

cleaning supplies bike

 

yes, that's a baby napping in a bike

Take a Bollywood Break

For those of us who love to travel and experience new things, one of our challenges is to keep up the spirit of adventure and discovery during the 95% of the year that we are not traveling.  I'm going to be focusing on things I can do right here in LA that allow me to "escape" to another place or culture.  This week, I want to share a dance class that truly transports me - Bollywood Bhangra Beats, a workout/dance class that incorporates Bollywood music and dance moves.

Find an hour to spare and you can escape to a world of wrist-twisting, shoulder-shaking, eye-popping, Bollywood exuberance.  From the moment the class starts I am transported by the music which ranges from soft and coy to loud and disco - but disco in an Indian way.  Somehow as soon as I hear the music, my body suddenly wants to move in a more Bollywood style.  I might walk with heels first, toes flexed or exaggerate my shoulders with every step.  If you're thinking My body would NOT automatically move in Bollywood style, it doesn't even KNOW what Bollywood style IS... don't worry.  The classes range in levels and I've seen total newcomers have just as much fun as the regulars.  Achinta, the instructor, emphasizes that having fun and attitude is more important than mastering the dance moves.  She reminds her students that if they forget the footwork, just keep moving and fake it with your face.  If you look like you're having a good time and feeling the music, no one is going to notice the position of your right foot.

What makes this class so fun?  First there is the infectiously danceable music.  Then there is the animated choreography that you can't do without feeling *alive* (insert jazz hands), if not vivacious.  And finally, there is Achinta's teaching style which makes the dance seem like a fun and familiar narrative thanks to her creative analogies.  A slight transfer of weight to the foot is stepping on hot coals.  Spinning with both arms extended  is offering a platter of silver at an elaborate feast.  A pulling of the hand toward the body  is "come-here, come-here."  A counter-directional movement of the hands is the meat slicer.  A flicking of the wrist while extending your arm out is throwing flower petals.  No, I've never stepped on hot coals, offered a giant silver platter, or never even operated a meat slicer, but some part of my brain registers these as familiar motions and I can remember the moves and execute them with what feels like muscle memory.

The classes are predominately made up of women, but often there are a few brave men who show up and Achinta will kindly give them macho alternatives to the girly flower petal throwing moves.  So ALL are welcome, and I can assure you that, if even for just a few measures, you will forget you are in LA, and escape to another world.  A world of dance, a world of platters and petals, a world of Bollywood!

For more information about class go to:
Achinta McDaniels's dance company site,  Blue 13
http://www.blue13dance.com

Manos 101: Learning Hand Gestures in Mexico

A few weeks ago I was in vacation in Mexico with my family and we had some good times hanging out with some Mexican friends we've seen over the years at the same vacation spot.  We spent a good couple of hours one night cracking up over all the hand gestures that they use in Mexico.  Friends from both Guadalajara and Leon assured us that everyone uses these gestures.  Of course, we have some common gestures in the states, but after learning several of theirs, I feel we have a serious lack of manual communication.  My Mexican friends, on the other hand, could not believe that these gestures, which they consider totally universal, did not exist in the US.  Yes, there was a large variety of gestures along the lines of "F-you" but there was such an impressive range of every day gestures, that I had plenty of  non-obscene ones to choose from for my blog.  If you're dying to know the "swear words/gestures" you'll just have to go to Mexico yourself.

No thanks.  Enough.  No more

Yeah, we use this too, but did you know how to gesture thank you?

Thank you. 

 

No

Most Americans are familiar with this one, even if used more commonly for scolding or "tsk-tsk-ing", not for a neutral "no."

Yes

I was not at all familiar with the gesture for the opposite of no. It's a bending and straightening of the pointer finger.

Just a minute. Can you wait a second?

 

Again, familiar in the sense of a little bit, but in Mexico it's generally understood that you are asking for someone to wait.

Lots of money.  He's a rich guy.  Richer than rich.  Etc..

Here my Mexican friends are demonstrating with zeal!  One of them explained the gesture as someone holding a huge stack of bills, while another said it is meant to symbolize someone holding a giant gold coin.

Really Crowded.  A lot!  Loaded.

Seeing this gesture I thought it was something a bit more vulgar or rude like they hate the guts of the person they are describing.  And it does have that implication in other latin cultures, but in Mexico (or at least according to these trusted friends and ambassadors to Mexican culture) it simply refers to quantity.  Lots of traffic, lots of people, lots of anything.  Loaded.

Share it with me.  Give me a piece.

Wow!  Why don't we have a gesture for this?  So helpful across a crowded table of delicious food! As you can kind of tell from the middle guy's mouth, they also often accompany this gesture with a whistling sound, as if you could hear the knife cutting through the food.

 

Hit or Bliss

So I just finished reading The Geography of Bliss by Eric Weiner, and I highly recommend it.  It is part travel book, part self-help book but not in the schmaltzy way I associate with books telling you how to be happy.  He doesn't offer any real answers, only a few possible ones, and some observations that are downright confusing.  And yet, it's real and funny and insightful.

A few weeks before I came upon The Geography of Bliss,  I decided to finally read Randy Pausch's The Last Lecture.  Pretty much everyone knows the story of this Carnegie Mellon professor who gave his life's last lecture knowing he was about to die of pancreatic cancer.  I was in need of some inspiration...but boy did I look in the wrong place.  I found it really depressing, even aside from the whole impending death part.  He focuses on making childhood dreams come true.  My "dream job" as a child was to be a medical illustrator, and now that seems like the most boring, tedious job I could imagine.  Hmm...what now?  Of course I have interests and aspirations, but none so clear and long-standing as Pausch's.  On the other hand, he also derives strength and meaning from his wife and kids.  Hmm, I like that idea, but I don't have kids yet.  Not even a potential kid-maker in sight.  I was left feeling like some vital elements were significantly missing from my life.

But then, thank you, Eric Weiner, you reassured me with your grumpy, confused, sometimes whiny adventure through countries familiar and new.  Not overbearing, just enough, to remind me that normal people have happiness in their own way.  The most comforting part of The Geography of Bliss is that after traveling across the globe to observe happiness, Weiner finds that people find bliss in the quotidian.  Some of the top sources of happiness: relationships, trusting people, willingness to fail, a sense of place & geography, accepting contrasts, boredom!, and in some cases, not thinking too much.  Some cultures even find a sort of happiness in sweet melancholy.  Yes, sadness makes them happy.  I don't really get why boredom would make you happy.  I might have to reread the chapter on Switzerland, but I can definitely glean some happiness from this book.  Mostly it reminded me that it's little things, not big things, that actually make you feel content.  The big things can be overrated.  Winning the lottery for instance - a few years later you return to your baseline of happiness.  A particularly striking chapter in the book takes place in Qatar where Weiner experiences riches and luxuries that are almost nauseating, and far from fulfilling.  Another study in extremes is in Iceland, a country that ranks very high in happiness despite being mostly dark for 6 months out of the year.  I don't remember anyone in the book siting their job as making them happy.  I certainly won't snub a potential dream job or dream guy for that matter, but in the meantime, I am finding bliss in the here and now.  Okay, maybe just looking for bliss in the here and now, but it's a start.

Check out The Geography of Bliss here:

http://www.ericweinerbooks.com/content/index.asp

Making Eye Contact in Buenos Aires

After two years studying tango in the US, I finally made my pilgrimage to Buenos Aires, the mecca of tango. When I imagined finally getting to dance authentic tango in Buenos Aires, I was giddy and anxious to dance my first “real tango” but terrified that I’d do something wrong and be exposed as an inexperienced amateur. What I didn’t anticipate was that the hardest part wouldn’t be the dancing, but the getting asked. It’s not that Argentine men didn’t want to dance with me, it’s that they don’t ask—at least not the way I am used to, with an actual verbal request such as, “Would you like to dance?”

Back in the states someone had tried to describe how Argentine men ask for a dance with a gesture known as the cabeceo (Spanish for “nod”). More than a regular old nod, it is a combination of intense eye contact and a slight nodding of the head. It’s not entirely different from an American’s head tilt that conveys, “What’s up?,” but it is accompanied by a distinct, inquisitive opening of the eyes, as if to say, “Yes or no?” It’s not a smoldering, “come hither” look, just an invitation that can be issued without a word from clear across a crowded dance floor. I’d heard about it but had never seen it in action and it sounded complicated.

On the first night that I mustered up the courage to go out to a milonga, the general term for tango clubs, I was by myself and worried that nobody would ask me to dance and equally worried that someone would ask me to dance and I would fumble through the whole thing. Could I hold my own in the birthplace of tango? The worst embarrassment would be if my partner ditched me in the middle of a tanda. A tanda is a set of four songs which are set apart by curtinas, literally a “curtain” of music which is a different style so as to obviously mark the division between tandas. Dancers clear the floor during the curtina as the men bring the women back to their seats and start looking for a new partner for the next tanda. It is extremely rude to stop dancing with your partner before the completion of the tanda; a dancer’s slap in the face. These rules hold true in the U.S. (except for uninitiated beginners) so I would feel the full insult if someone ditched me in the middle of a tanda.

So there I was, nervously awaiting my first dance at my first milonga in Buenos Aires. I had heard about this whole cabeceo thing, but it seemed like an urban myth. Did I really have to look strangers in the eye? I sat, by myself, at my own little table, wondering if I would ever get asked to dance. I sat, and I sat, and I sat, for over an hour. I found a tango magazine and started looking at that, trying to seem engaged and totally nonchalant about the fact that I was in Buenos Aires, by myself, ALL ALONE, for five weeks, with no one to dance with. What was I thinking? Why did I plan such a long trip by myself!? I even ordered a drink a friend had told me about—a classic in Argentina called Fernet Cola.

Croatia in Pictures

Aegean Odyssey

Verdant Adventures

Seaside Serenity

 Abundance in the Hue of Apricot

WanderLOST

Usually I pride my sense of adventure and revel in cultural differences.  I feel like traveling is what puts life into a healthy perspective.  But today it feels like goodbye wanderlust, hello "Wow, I'm lost."  And not just geographically.

I don't know what triggered it - I think listening to my Spanish music.  I've been living and teaching English in China for ten months now and I miss the occasional Spanish  I practice at home.  The salsa music I was listening today reminded me of other people, other places, and what seems like another life.  It suddenly made part of my brain or memory re-open as it was tuned back into Spanish.  It's weird how your brain can feel different when you are using different areas of knowledge, like math or a foreign language.  Speaking Chinese is so mentally exhausting but also rewarding and I feel like I've exercised mentally if I've made a great effort in speaking.  Then when I hear Spanish it's like remembering this world that I am connected to, but never visit here.  Even English seems like a distant memory while I'm here.  Most of my conversations are watered down for my students so they can understand, and usually I am talking about variations of the same questions.  Do you like China?... Can you use chopsticks?...Why are Americans so fat?  (That is of course after they've already asked my age and my salary.)  I don't blame my Chinese students for asking boring questions - when I try to muster questions even twice as boring and simple in Chinese it's an adventure to another side of the brain, a sometimes infuriating sometimes rewarding experience.  At times I feel annoyed that words have to get in the way of understanding.  It's sad that I can't really get to know a Chinese person because we can't understand each other's words.

Today I was feeling so separate from other parts of my life.  Away from my parents, friends, school, and all else familiar.  I don't mind being somewhere where all is unfamiliar - that's an exciting challenge, but I do mind missing out on all that is familiar and beloved.  I wish I could be in all places - and even all times - at once.  I even feel nostalgia for speaking different languages.  Despite the rich and exciting life I'm living now, I can't help but feel like important parts of me are sitting on a shelf somewhere, collecting dust.  This chaos of emotion is probably derived from the fact that I will finally be "alone" in China.  My good friend was here with me for the first six months, then another friend came and traveled with me for a few months, and now I'm starting at a new school with no previous acquaintances.  I guess that's something I've been afraid of, just being me, this little Betsy, with no one at all to whom I can share all my feelings.  I see this image of this tiny person in this huge country with nothing tying her down - no groundings.

But then...ring-ring...a new student calls and invites me to dinner and karaoke, and all is well.  At least for now, Spanish can wait.