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.

Making Dumplings & Enjoying the Country in Zhejiang Province, China

Yes, I am still sleeping on the bamboo bed but I am getting used to it and I have a softer pillow now so that's good.  I'm staying in Anhui provice with a family I met years ago on a river tour of the Three Gorges.  Their grade school son kept in touch via postcards, and here I am their house guests for a week.  The Chinese people's desire to learn English can really serve you well.  The family is well-off, with government ties and a very nice house by Chinese standards, and the bed I'm sleeping on is good quality, but their custom in the hot summer is to remove the mattress and sleep directly on a mat of bamboo tiles.  Imagine a bunch of bamboo dominoes laced together into a grid, and then imagine sleeping on this wood-like material.  Ouch.  

The family just took me to a weekend at a family friend’s in the mountains.  That was fun because three families were there and there was lots of laughing, eating, talking, mahjong etc.  One night we played this game like hot potato but if you get the potato you have to sing or do some other performance.  It's funny because in the USI would be pretty embarrassed to sing out loud, but here I've grown accustomed to it.  The house was in a village on a hill and everyone was gawking at the city folk coming in, especially the foreigner.  Food abounded, but none of it was too much to my liking.  Snake soup of course--a staple here-- weird duck parts, pig meat wrapped in huge pieces of fat, and porcupine, only to name the specialties.  Yesterday we made the left overs into dumplings for dinner and I had a good time perfecting my wrapping technique.  You have to wrap different shapes depending on what the filling is so you can tell them apart.  

The Streets of Lhasa

On Wednesday I spent four hours just walking around the maze like streets of Lhasa. I think going alone is great, because I feel free to peek in any nook and cranny and people also feel more comfortable approaching me (a good thing in the day). I went to a very small monastery/nunnery and as soon as I entered a nun asked me to come help her with her English exercises. Then another waved to me and invited me into her bedroom where she took out a tin of candies and dried yak milk/cheese to offer me. She insisted that I take some of the yak stuff. She only spoke Tibetan so our conversation was limited and I soon left. Then another nun gestured for me to come to her room. This one housed two young sisters, who were both studying English and I helped them correct their most recent exercises. Both rooms had their own little alter with Buddha statues and metal bowls to give offerings of water. And they cook for themselves on a little stove. After I left I was invited into another room where 15 nuns were making ink rubbings of the scriptures which they rolled up, covered with a yellow ribbon, and will later put inside a statue of Buddha. While I was there, out of nowhere they started chanting, meditating, I don't know what. It was neat. The whole complex was covered with flowers and had long rows of brass cylinders that you spin as you walk by to symbolize the continuation of the scriptures that are contained inside. In a happening monastery you can always hear the humming of the revolving scriptures.

Later I talked to some of the bad-ass looking guys who wear hefty wool tunics with sleeves that hang a foot longer than their arms. They often wear braids and red ties with tassels around their heads. I got them to teach me the Tibetan words for mouth, nose, eyes, and ears..ka, na, mi, and I forget ears. A funny thing is that Tibetans point out a direction with their lips, so they look like they are puckering like a fish or something.