再见，中国。谢谢你。

”How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” -Winnie the Pooh

I feel like every time I've been on a plane this past week or so, I've been on the verge of tears. It's bittersweet: I'm excited to go home, but it means that this experience will finally, actually be over. 
I'm sitting in the traveller's lounge at the HK International Airport, and I can look over and see the exact seat I sat in the first time I was here four months ago, only a few hours before I landed in Beijing. I skyped my family and worked on my first few blog posts, excited and terrified and not really sure what I was getting myself into. It's crazy to look back and see where I'm at now, an experienced world traveler. I've learned so much, and I'm sure I've grown and changed maybe a lot; I don't think I'll really know how until I can go back home and really start to process these past four months. I think I'll be doing a lot of retrospective blogging about it all, to help me with that.

So for now, China, here is what I'll say: Thank you. I wasn't sure what would happen, but it's been a lovely surprise how you've managed to worm your way into my heart with your people, your language, and your culture. And even though you were frustrating and upsetting at times, I'll always look back fondly, to lovingly mock your really weird and ridiculous ways or to remember all the moments of warmth and hospitality. And the food. I'll really miss your food. Thank you for bringing me together with all the amazing people I met from all over the world, and for the adventures I had with them, whether it was in class, going out, travelling, sight seeing, or just being with each and sharing together in this crazy time away from home.

再见，中国. I'll be seeing you.

<3 Myks

Snapshots

This is what my life has become:

"I hate it when I accidently turn on my Chinese keyboard when I'm trying to type in English and my words start coming out weird:

and then when I'm try to type characters, I forget that I switched out of Chinese mode earlier when I was annoyed about accidentally turning it on."

My classmates: "Me too! Like, actually. No sarcasm there."

I mean, in Chinese mode, all it takes is a tap of the shift key to switch between English and Chinese. To switch between language modes, it's the start key + space bar. I enabled Vietnamese for kicks and giggles. Well really, so I can spend twice as long sounding out Vietnamese  words to get the right tone marks when I message my parents. Can't have my Vietnamese leaking out of my brain as I try to stuff Chinese into it. According to my Vietnamese friends, I sound cute speaking Vietnamese because my accent is so clearly Hà Nội I have the vocabulary of a preschooler. Or something like that. (Thanks guys?)

…

"Guys! The bathrooms here have sit-down toilets!"

"Eh, it's weird, but  I think I actually prefer the squatties; they're a little more sanitary. Do I need to bring my own toilet paper?"

"No, they have some. It might be on the wall outside the stall though. And they have soap. But be careful: somebody threw their toilet paper in one of the toilets and tried to flush it, so don't use that one."

"It happens. I've only forgotten once since the first week though!"

…

"OMG Starbucks! I want to try the peach blossom tea latte they have for Chun Jie. And maybe a red bean pastry...

Wait, a tall costs 30 kuai?! I can feed myself for like, two days with that much."

"If you think about it though, that's about 5 US dollars… treat yourself."

It was delicious. (Sometimes, you just really want something familiar; a taste of home. This was almost as exciting as the time we found Subway and Dairy Queen, right next to each other.)

…

"Jeez, the wind is crazy today."

"Yeah, but tomorrow will be beautiful; that's what they rely on for air quality control. I wish I was kidding, but I'm not."

"It doesn't make me  want to go outside though. And I'm hungry."

"Well, McDonalds delivers! You can have milk tea and taro pie with your chicken nuggets. Plus, you can even do it online so you don't have to talk to them!"

…

Looking out the bus window:

"Oh my gosh! What are all those people doing? Are they dancing? Is it a flash mob? I love flashmobs!"

"I think it's just a bunch of old people doing exercises in the park together. As they do.  It's probably Tai Chi."

…

In China, there is no such thing as waiting patiently in line for your turn. While there usually is some semblance of a line, if someone pushes ahead of you, it's your fault for not being quick enough/aggressive enough/paying enough attention. You just gotta go for it. Meanwhile, the person behind you is pressed up against your back and literally breathing down your neck cause personal bubbles aren't really a thing either.

These things don't happen constantly, but nobody bats an eye when they do.

This is why I giggled to myself at church yesterday, when they made this announcement before everyone went to get Communion:

"Hello everyone, we have a system here for lining up to receive Communion. The first pew lines up first, then the next one, row by row. Please wait for your turn to join the line. Thank you."

Back home, this is a clear, efficient system that everyone understands; it's so obvious that it goes unsaid.

After going to this church in Beijing for a month and watching people go up willy-nilly,  as the spirit moved them, I watched the proceedings with no little amusement. When it was my turn to go, I stood at the far end of the pew waiting to file out, but the girls next to me were sitting and giving no indication as to whether they would get up or that I should pass them. So of course, the pews behind us got impatient and moved on before I could assess the situation, and the line doubled behind my row. Could've been worse, I thought as I walked in front of my pew and inserted myself into the middle of the line with a little smile; these differences will never cease to fascinate me. I only hope that I will continue to accept them with good grace.

...

(I know, I know. There's been a crap ton of stuff going on and I haven't been doing a good job recording it all. I have about 5 unwritten posts planned out in my head... They'll happen eventually. Promise.
<3 Myks)

Becoming a China Expert

I never in a million years would have imagined myself debating China and democracy in a bar, talking about Chinese parenting issues over lunch, or explaining the complex China-Tibet relationship while waiting for dinner. And yet, all three of these scenarios have happened over the past few weeks.

We have every Wednesday off, and last Wednesday, I had the privilege of interviewing Sister Angela Theresa for my final project: a paper placing a Chinese person's life story in the context of modern Chinese history. I had originally planned to interview one of the English-speaking priests at the Church I've been going to, but they were busy preparing for the New Year celebrations. Instead, Father told me that I needed to talk to Sister Angela Theresa and  led me to the office next door. He put his arm around the elderly nun and smiled as he told her: "This young lady here wants to know about how the cadre has influenced your life." I sat down and quickly discovered that she didn't speak much English. Problematic, since I can barely speak Chinese. After struggling for a few minutes, I managed to tell her that I'd come back with a translator. So back I came with a wonderful Singaporean friend from Brown who graciously took three hours out of her day to help me, even though she had her own project to work on. Sister Angela Theresa, I found, was just as sweet and kind as she seemed. But I was amazed: at 80, she has been around longer than the Chinese Communist Party, living through civil war, the Great Leap Forward, the Cultural Revolution, the Tiananmen Massacre, and everything else in between. Jackie wants to transcribe the interview, so I'll post that whenever she's done.

Me, Sister Angela Theresa, and Jackie after the interview

But even though I could barely understand a word, I was fascinated just listening to Sister speak, telling us her thoughts and opinions and telling us about her life. At the beginning of the interview, she gifted me with an old bound case of Chinese/English pamphlets, detailing the history of the Catholic Church in Beijing. It's sitting on my bookshelf now, next to my Bible and my other books for class.

The Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception (among various other names)
was originally built in the 1600s by Jesuit missionary Matteo Ricci

The case of pamphlets on my bookshelf 

We finished our first class block last week, and tomorrow, I will be diving straight into Modern Chinese Literature, while the other half of my track starts Chinese Government and Politics. There are 18 people on the Contemporary Issues track, while the rest of the 60-ish people here are on the Language Intensive track. The CI program was the only one I was eligible to do, since it doesn't have a language prerequisite, but I'm really glad I'm on it. It is a lot more work than the LI program, but the amount of information and range of topics we're covering is pretty incredible. It often feels like all I'm doing is studying, however. I am in my Area Studies class (Which is Understanding China, Modern Chinese Literature, China in International Affairs, or Ethnicity in Contemporary China, depending on the block) for 2.5 hours four mornings a week, before my 2 hour Chinese lesson and half hour one-on-one three afternoons a week. I don't finish until 4 pm, when I have to start thinking about the next day's readings and vocab quiz (twice a week), so it's been pretty overwhelming at times as I settle into a rhythm.

For the first block, "Understanding China," we spent ten classes getting a general overview on Chinese history, politics, and social issues, ranging from censorship and corruption to gender, poverty and ethnicity. Our teacher is the director of the IES Beijing Center, has lived here for over 10 years, occasionally writes for The Economist, and is an extremely passionate and knowledgeable lecturer, even if his jokes sometimes try to hard. I was nervous that I wouldn't enjoy being in Humanities classes for so long, but I am participating as much as ever and have managed to remain mostly engrossed in the topics at hand. I guess the real test will come when everyone at home starts asking about my opinions on China...

But it brings me to something I've been pondering lately, thoughts inspired by my classmates, teachers, and even the homilies I've heard at mass. When I go back home, what am I going to do with all this knowledge I've acquired? I came here mainly for my own personal growth. I needed to go far away from home and figure out how to survive in a new place. I wanted to open my eyes to the world and get a broader my perspective on life. I yearned to explore my Asian heritage, speak a new language, and learn about this major world power. But all those things are so focused on me; I really never thought beyond that, being understandably preoccupied with the fact that I was going at all. Being a planner and a problem solver, however, it's been a struggle for me to not know exactly how I'm going to apply the things I'm learning in class right now, when my future plans don't really involve China at all. So I've been working on the acceptance that it's ok not to know. I just need to have some faith that someday down the road, be it months or years, my understanding of the Great Sparrow or Hundred Flowers Campaigns may prove useful.

<3 Myks

Hold On...

...to me as we go, as we roll down this unfamiliar road, and although this wave is stringing us along, just know you're not alone, Cause I'm gonna make this place your home. -Phillip Phillips

It's a strange conundrum, being able to blend in perfectly with a crowd and yet feeling so out of place.

On my hour long commute to church each Sunday, I can't really  do anything other than be alone with my thoughts.  I'll pull out some homework if I can find a seat, but most of the time, I stand squished between  my fellow passengers,  holding on the pole as the subway lurches back and forth. The subways are awesome and so convenient (and I can navigate them on my own, yay!), but being mechanically operated, breaking is anything but smooth.

Back at home, I don't often think  about the fact that racially, I'm a minority (except for when I'm thinking about auditioning for plays; race can limit the roles you play, but I accept that and have no more qualms about it). Even at Whitman, mockingly called "White Man College," it doesn't really register with me that most of my peers are in fact white. (Interlude: one of my fellow Whitties here mentioned Whitman in his Chinese homework, and our teacher corrected it to "white man." It makes me giggle.) Maybe it's because my friend circle is relatively diverse, but I also think that I'm just used to it. I've assimilated into Western culture to the point that I'm more comfortable among my American friends than in a group of Vietnamese people, I'm sad to say (perhaps I'm ashamed of my slipping command of the language, but maybe it's mainly that I can't fathom being completely immersed in an Eastern culture. Which is partly why I'm here...). It's telling that the only two white girls on the CI track are two of my best friends here, although I'm pretty close to my fellow Asian ladies as well. Of course, I'm intensely proud of my heritage and love to teach people about the traditions and values that set my family apart. I refuse to go by my English middle name no matter how many times my mother asks me if I'm sure, and I'm here in Asia for the first time, exploring what being Asian means to me. Which I don't think is actually answerable, but I'll let you know how that goes.

So as I stand alone on the subway, I am confronted with this Asian heritage. Without a group of conspicuously foreign students surrounding me, jabbering away in English, I appear to be just another Chinese person. It was a weird moment when I realized that while I still tended to be on the shorter side, I was no longer at chest level with everyone else around me. I could even kind of see over people's heads! I keep getting differing opinions as to whether or not I look Chinese, but that doesn't matter: when roaming the city yesterday with my tall Singaporean friend, I was the one that kept getting approached for questions. I still remain amused at my limited grasp of the language, but I wonder what they're thinking when I just smile and nod before walking away or letting a more fluent friend take over. Do they judge me? 

Coming from America's melting pot, it would be extremely hypocritical to assume that every non-Caucasian cannot speak English. Here, it makes sense that Oriental Asians are assumed to speak Chinese, and everyone else is assumed not to. At the English mass, I was indistinguishable from the English-speaking Chinese church-goers. Maybe what I'm actually uncomfortable with is being homogenized? Of getting lost in the crowd, but no longer because everyone else towers over me.

So my brain whirs as I stand silent, analyzing and processing the conflicting multitude of thoughts and emotions about my experience on this side of the world so far, and it is during these times that I get homesick. I usually don't get homesick, but I guess being in a foreign country for an extended period of time will do that to you. As my fellow subway riders (along with most of Beijing) roll out their suitcases and journey home to celebrate the Lunar New Year, I think of how my own family has gathered to do the same since before I was born. I think of how I will not be there for the third year in a row. How I am waking up as my family goes to bed, and falling asleep as they start their day. But it gives me something to hold on to as I grapple with being out of place in a place where I look like I belong: Hey, I think, I celebrate the Lunar New Year too! In America, it is a symbol of my unique cultural heritage; here, I embrace the fact that even though we don't speak the same language, the whole country is shutting down to  celebrate with me. It's a reminder that despite the differences, our cultures are intertwined, and gives me hope for a sense of home here these next 3.5 months.

Still missing this though (and by this, I mean singing with Owen, my pretty, pretty guitar. Those other guys are alright too, I guess):

<3 Myks

Finding the Beauty

At first glance, Beijing isn't really what you would call a beautiful city. For one thing, there are times when you literally can't see past all of the dirt and pollution. And even on a clear day, you really only see buildings of various heights crammed together on either side of the huge and chaotic street. Most of the buildings here are built for functionality and not for aesthetic value, which means that many of them are tall, have lots of windows, and are either tan or gray. It is not sleek or modern, even with construction happening everywhere, and the buildings are at different levels of up keep. I guess what I'm trying to say is that the city has been around for a long time, cobbled together under various influences, and it shows.

At Prince Kung's Mansion, beautifully restored
and preserved. I can't wait to revisit in the spring,
when the huge gardens will bloom with flowers.

Which doesn't mean that beauty does not exist, of course, only that you have to look a little harder for the beauty. The parks hidden around the city are beautiful, and in addition to the historical sites, sometimes building blocks have traditional, intricately painted and sculpted exteriors. It's sad that so much of the beauty and history of the city has been lost, but I suppose after all the power struggles and fighting and rapid urbanization that has taken place in this 3,000-year-old city, that's to be expected.
On Tuesday, Kaiser Kuo, a Chinese American who has been living in Beijing for over ten years and has become an important business man, writer/talk show host, and musician, came in to talk to us. When asked how he has thrived here in an environment that is so different from the one where he was raised and one that is often frustrating policy and politically-wise, his answer really struck me. He said that in addition to enjoying having a different opinion and going with the flow instead of complaining, he actively searches for the good and beauty of the people around him. I find that this has also been necessary for me so far.

The way my program works is that in addition to my afternoon Chinese class three days a week for the whole semester, I have three blocks. During each of those blocks, I have one class four days a week. Right now, we're in the introductory block, taking a class called Understanding China. We're taking ten days to cover the basic issues and history that has formed what we know as China today. And therein lies the struggle: China is a land full of contradictions. There are some wonderful things, and not so wonderful things, but even if I don't agree with what's happening, I can see why they're happening. I feel like for much of my life, because of my family background and heritage, my gut reaction is to summarily dismiss anything to do with communism. But I'm learning to understand, to step back objectively though it's hard. And not necessarily in the way you would think. I'm confronted with the mistakes America, the country I consider my own, has made, mistakes that go against the values it claims to have. I see that if we had better understanding  of China back then, the topics covered in this class would be immensely different. This is a class in which we're asking, what is modernization? Why does it have to look like westernization? What does it mean for China to be fully Chinese and fully modern? Which is the big question China doesn't even know yet, but has been trying to answer for the past few centuries with varying results.

So I sit in class, taking it all in, debating and discussing while my heart breaks. This country has had some pretty terrible things happen to it. Its people have done pretty terrible things to each other. And some pretty terrible things are still happening in it now. When I see the videos and propaganda labeling the west as evil imperialist powers, I'm get defensive because they misunderstand! But then again, we don't understand them either. And sometimes, I feel helpless because these problems are too big for me, too vast to even begin to tackle. These problems are affecting literally billions of people, and there is no easy way to fix them. So when I start to question why I'm here, in a place where things can seem so backwards to me, I look for the beauty. In a sea of unsmiling faces (to smile is to show discomfort), I look for reasons to smile, because when a Chinese person decides to open up, they will go a hundred extra miles for a stranger.
And if all else fails, I'll create some funny moments on my own:

I call this one: Four Whitties in Beijing with Matching Blue Puffy Jackets.

<3 Myks

P.S. Despite the more serious tone of this post, I am having a blast. Don't you worry. :)

Where do I even begin?

This past week has pretty much been nonstop, and this feels like the first time I've gotten to sit down and reflect since getting here last Friday. We launched right in to five days of orientation before taking a break and starting our classes and the language pledge yesterday. And I've been having a blast!

The people in my program here are great; it probably won't come as a surprise that I was able to make friends almost immediately and that I know almost all of the 60+ people at least by name, but I've found some wonderful people that I really connect with. Together, my friends and I have started to blunder our way through the city, and I've remembered how much I love to travel and visit new places. After three days of going on campus tours and getting advice and hearing talks about adjusting to China and safety and etc, the RAs organized scavenger hunts to get us off campus.

This isn't even the whole mall.

There was still a bit of snow left over from Saturday, but luckily, my winter gear has kept me toasty as I've traipsed around outside. On Monday, my group and I rode the bus around Haidian, the district the University is in, to find Jinyuan, the  new Yansha shopping mall. It is a gigantic, six story, 6 million square foot monstrosity that is 1.5 times the size of the Mall of America. I didn't buy anything, mainly because it was so overwhelming and had mainly higher end stuff; why buy all of that here when I could get it for the same price at home? Regardless, it was quite a sight. Or site, if you want to be punny (and I always do).

The lanterns at the market where my
teammates at fried scorpion. 

On Tuesday, we raced around the city on subways, competing to see who could fit in the most in one day. My group decided we didn't care so much about the competition and just wanted to take our time and explore. I discovered that day, among other things, that a tall Starbucks drink is twice the cost of some of the dinners I've had. I am also not brave enough to try fried scorpion, but maybe I'll get there before I leave. It apparently tastes like a chip. As you can see, the air quality was relatively excellent both days; the sky was blue, and it even hurt to stare at the sun! The city is preparing for Chunjie, the Lunar New Year/Spring festival, and making everything look positively festive.

When we finally had a day off on Wednesday before our classes started, some of us went to a nearby park and skated on a frozen lake! Some of my other friends decided to rent a ice bicycle and play on the bumper cars. The ice was definitely not smooth, and the skates weren't sharpened, which made things difficult, but I can now say I've skated on a lake.

As you can see, the air quality that day was particularly terrible-- almost at 500. They advise staying inside if it gets over 300. I joke with my Seattle friends that I'm used to seeing gray skies; the only difference is that here, it's chemicals blocking the sun instead of clouds. I know it's probably terrible for my lungs, but I took off my mask because it was annoying me. I find that I can't really smell or feel the air pollution. You can definitely see it though, although I sometimes mistake it for fog. It doesn't really hit you until later that night when your mouth is dry and your throat is scratchy and no amount of water seems to help.

I've been taking a backseat on these expeditions, just observing and letting the more experienced and Mandarin-fluent people take the lead. We definitely get a lot of looks from the people here; if not because of the Caucasians in the group, then because of our loud English conversations. Funnily enough though, there are a good number of fellow Asians in my program that I've bonded with, sharing the differences between our backgrounds and comparing it to things we've found in China. I think it's almost been a good thing that I only had a semester of Mandarin, because I have no pretensions about my language abilities and can just roll with whatever happens instead of getting frustrated. I just laugh at my limited knowledge and call it an adventure. However, I know I'll have to step up sooner or later in order to push myself, instead of getting other people to speak for me. It'll come. For now, I've been content to just take in my new surroundings.

After the snow on Saturday

It's a miracle! You can see the sun!

你好北京 (Ni hao Beijing)!

Waiting at the airport to be picked up, it finally happened. I had my first Chinese conversation.

I'm finding so far that Chinese people are incredibly kind, like the old man who stowed away my carry-on for me,  the stewardess (from a different airline) who went out of her way to try to help me find mine, or the subsequent people I've had to stop for directions. They didn't actually know a lot of English, but have patiently tried to help me as best they can. In fact, my conversation partner didn't speak English at all. He was maybe older than my father, and had to plug in his phone behind my chair. I was on my laptop, surrounded by my mountain of luggage, and he decided to strike up a conversation. With my very limited Chinese, I was able to convey to him that I was a Vietnamese American going to study at BFSU. I think we finally came to the conclusion that I'm a foreign exchange student coming here after two years of study at college. Unless he thinks that I'll be studying here for two years. It was something about two years.

I think he also said that I look Chinese, not Vietnamese, and proceeded to give me a "pretty" Chinese name: "xiao," meaning short, and a second part I didn't quite catch, but it sounded something like xi. He said it was because Americans are tall, and I must be very short compared to them. He asked me if I liked Chinese people or Americans, and laughed when I said both, saying that I must like Americans better. He proceeded to explain why, but I didn't understand any of it. When his female companion finally arrived, he introduced me as "mei mei," or "little sister" before smiling and saying "bai bai!" as he walked away. Needless to say, I'm feeling a little proud of myself.

Maybe in four months, I'll see him here again and we can discuss the current political climate in China and our favorite modern Chinese literary works.