Category: International Travel

on returning home from china

November 5, 2018

My time teaching English at a university in Nanning in southern China from September 2014 to July 2015 was an adventure and challenge.

The hot and humid weather in Guangxi Province was nearly unbearable. I was soaked in sweat from the minute I walked out my door in the morning until I returned to my air-conditioned apartment. The air was always saturated, even in the winter months. The skies were nearly always hazy, whether from the moisture or pollution.

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haze at the Longji Rice Terraces in Guangxi Province

I could never learn Mandarin despite taking a class while there; the tonality was impossible for me to detect or reproduce.  Communication, especially when traveling, was challenging.  I depended utterly on a translation app and notes made in a small notebook by my students. My students took English names as there was no way I could have ever learned, remembered, or even pronounced 73 Chinese names.

Being on the move with 1.2 billion people was burdensome. It tested my patience.  Posing for pictures constantly with random Chinese people wore me out. The late night shouting from the students’ required military exercises on campus made me uneasy.   Swarms of motorbikes, much like what I’d seen in Hanoi, moved in synchronicity through the streets, and we crossed streets at our peril.

The meat was almost always gristly, and I resorted to a diet of dumplings, Korean bibimbap and pizza. I was constantly nauseous. Many toilets were utterly disgusting; I often contended with squat toilets or troughs separated by waist high walls, and water didn’t seem to flush away the waste. The smells of China assaulted from all directions.

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me at my favorite dumpling restaurant

Of course, there were positives: I never saw such hard-working people as the Chinese.

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styrofoam collector in Nanning

It seemed common practice for students to socialize with teachers, and I made a great many memories with them. I had the easiest commute I’d ever had: a 5 minute bicycle ride from my apartment to my classroom. I only worked till noon most days. Free time was in abundance until it wasn’t; when it was time to mark essays, I was caught up in a quagmire of badly constructed paragraphs and Google-translated sentences.

I traveled extensively: to the Longji Rice Terraces and to Yangshuo and the karsts along the Li River in Guangxi Province.

Yangshuo
me with the 20 yuan bill and the picture of the karsts
riding bikes around Yangshuo
karsts and haystacks in Yangshuo
rafting on an offshoot of the Li River

I saw the Terra Cotta Warriors in Xi’an, the beautiful Yunnan Province, the traditional village of Fenghuang, as well as big cities like Hong Kong and Shanghai. My son and my husband came separately to visit and I was able to travel with them around China.  I spent a fabulous two weeks in Myanmar, one of my favorite Asian countries.

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Fenghuang, China

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Kunming, China

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atop Jade Dragon Snow Mountain in Yunnan Province

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Mirror Lake at the foot of Jade Dragon Snow Mountain

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farmland & villages around Shaxi, Yunnan Province

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Guanyin and Maitreya, the smiling Buddha, on the cliff ledges at Baoxiang Temple

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Alex at Baoxiang Temple

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Dali, Yunnan Province

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Entrance gate to Yuantong Si in Kunming

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dragons at Yuangtong Temple

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Stone Forest in Kunming

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Hong Kong

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View of Xi’an from Big Wild Goose Pagoda

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Terra Cotta Army in Xi’an

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Longji Rice Terraces in spring

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Longji Rice Terraces

***

Escape was in the cards. It was visible on the horizon. I bought a ticket for July 15, 2015 from Nanning to Beijing, China then to Vancouver, then on to L.A. where I would visit my sister near L.A., California for about a week on my way home to Virginia. I had only a 1 1/2 hour layover in Vancouver, and I worried from the outset I might miss the connection, as planes are notoriously late taking off from airports in China.

I left my humble abode in Nanning, China, that Wednesday morning, locking the keys inside.  I felt a little strange leaving the place I’d lived for the last year, knowing I would never see it again.  Outside, a car arranged by the university was waiting to drive me to the airport.  At the airport, I checked in without incident at Shenzhen Airlines for my 9:40 flight.

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campus of Guangxi University

I had a 3-hour- 20-minute layover in Beijing and I would check in to Air Canada at the same terminal where I arrived.  My plane surprisingly left Nanning on time. When I arrived in Beijing at 12:45 p.m., I picked up my bags from the baggage claim and made my way to Air Canada, where I had to stand in a long, slow-moving line to check my bags back in for the international flight.

Then, I hit a roadblock.  The lines for Customs/Immigration were snaking queues with hundreds of people in them, and they were barely moving.  I stood in that line for well over an hour.  By then I was worried I would miss my plane from Beijing to Vancouver!  After sending my bags and tennis shoes and every possession through security, I had only a half hour before we boarded.  We boarded and were ready to take off on time; however, air traffic control told the pilot we would have a 30-minute delay, which worried me as I had that short layover in Vancouver.

I realized too late that I was booked into a middle seat, and it couldn’t be changed to an aisle seat because the flight was fully booked.  Misery!  I sat between two Chinese boys, one of whom spoke both fluent English and Chinese.  He was from Los Angeles, but had spent his school years studying in China and would attend Berkeley in the fall.  He chatted with me a long time about his plans to do a double major in mechanical engineering and economics.  When he talked to the boy on the other side of me, they spoke over me in Chinese.  He said, “I hope you don’t mind us talking over you.” I said, half-jokingly, “I don’t mind but I’d rather you switch seats with me!”  After several hours, he luckily took me up on my request and gave me his aisle seat, which made my a 10-hour & 20-minute flight marginally more comfortable.

When we arrived in Vancouver at noon, the Chinese boy and I took off together toward our flight bound to L.A. and hit a bottleneck.  About 25 people were standing in a slow-moving line.  First, an Air Canada attendant asked us to identify our bags on a TV screen. One of my bags was visible on the screen, but the other wasn’t, so she told me to go sit in a room until I could verify both bags.  I told her we had a very short connection, but she didn’t seem phased.  The Chinese boy had to wait to identify his bags as well.  When we finished, we were finally able to get into a slow-moving line through U.S. Customs, which had gotten longer while we were held up.  I told one of the officials from the airline that we had a very short connection, but she said, “It’s U.S. Customs and I have nothing to do with that!”  I commiserated with the Chinese boy, who was three people behind me, that we were never going to make our flight.   Suddenly he pushed his way to the front of the line and I (who can’t stand people who cut in line, and would never do it myself under ordinary circumstances) followed him.  He said, “I called my mother and she told me not to talk to the officials.  She says I should depend on the kindness of strangers.”  We begged the people at the front of the line to let us in so we wouldn’t miss our flight.  Luckily, they kindly allowed us to pass, although the poor people behind them had no say in the matter.

At U.S. Customs, the officer asked me where I was staying, and where I lived.  I told him and then mentioned that we had a very short connection.  He said, in that way that people in positions such as these like to flex their power, “You can’t rush me, lady.  I will take as long as I need to take.”  I said, “Fine!”  Then he asked a few more questions and released me.  I won’t mention the name I called him when I was out of earshot.

At that point we saw our gate #83 was at the far end of a long hall, and over the loudspeaker, I heard my name among a list of names for “last call.”  I panicked: “That’s us!  We need to run!”  The boy and I tore through the airport, and barely managed to board the plane. The airline stewardesses closed the door behind us and we took off as scheduled at 1:00 p.m.

I made it to LA right on time, by 4:00 p.m.  My sister Stephanie was waiting to pick me up and we headed directly to dinner at a cozy sushi place.  We celebrated by drinking hot sake followed by cold Sapporo. I was happy to be with my sister on American soil after one of the longest days of my life.  It was still Wednesday, July 15 when I arrived in LA around 4:00 p.m., having left China at 6:30 a.m. that same morning. 🙂

***

A week later, I returned to our house in Virginia, which was a disaster.  Our kitchen and deck badly needed replacing.  We would embark on a major construction project in early 2016 to redo the kitchen, knocking down the wall between our family room and kitchen.  We would also tear down the deck and replace it with a screened-in porch, and change our laundry room into a mudroom/pantry/laundry room.

While I was in China, I had set up an appointment with a gastroenterologist because I had been so sick in China all year. However, as soon as I got home, all my stomach problems mysteriously disappeared. The doctor was baffled as to why I had come in, and he told me to keep eating healthy and exercising and I would probably continue to feel fine.

The one thing I did most religiously once I returned home was to exercise, walking three miles each day.  I gained 7 pounds in China, and I was already heavier than I would have liked BEFORE I left for China.

I went to a women’s mid-life retreat in Monterey, Virginia where I found after taking a quiz that these were my top five strengths:

  1. Curiosity and interest in the world
  2. Love of learning
  3. Appreciation of beauty and excellence
  4. Fairness, Equity and Justice
  5. Humor and playfulness
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retreat in Monterey, Virginia

Other than my constant exercising, household chores, de-cluttering, moving my kids out and onward, and attending the retreat, I also saw some interesting movies in theaters, including A Borrowed Identity, Trainwreck, Samba, The End of the Tour, Phoenix, Ricki and the Flash, and Mr. Holmes. I made up for the time I lost in China! I also watched the last season of Last Tango in Halifax and got involved in the Danish political series, Borgen.

I was surprised on Thursday, August 6, to get a text message from one of my Chinese students, Christine.  She wrote that she was on a train from New York to Washington with her mother and they hoped to take me out to dinner in Washington.  Mike and I trekked downtown and took Christine and her mother to the Lincoln Restaurant. Christine’s English wasn’t bad, and her mother could understand and speak limited English.  When the server tried to explain the complex dishes, such a far stretch from Chinese dishes, Christine said immediately that all she wanted was meat.  She ordered s plate of BBQ ribs, and we had to demonstrate how she should eat them. The plate was almost as big as she was.  Neither she nor her mother had any interest in the small plates Mike and I ordered: Ricotta gnocchi, Shrimp & Grits, and the Pennsylvania Chicken Pot Pie.  When the waitress put the Shishito Pepper Hush Puppies on the table, Christine asked tentatively: “Is that dog meat?” We were taken aback momentarily by her misunderstanding of the word “puppies,” and we got quite a laugh out of it. 🙂

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Christine, me and Christine’s mother visiting in Washington soon after I arrive home

Other than exercising, I worked on a 5-hour free grammar course (more like 10+ hours!) and a pre-task for the course I would beginning September 21 at Teaching House, which ran the University of Cambridge CELTA (the Certificate in English Language Teaching), the most widely accepted TESOL program in the world.  It was a month-long highly intensive course.

As for reverse culture shock, I didn’t experience it as much this time as the first two times I returned home from abroad. The main reason was that I’d let go of all expectations. I didn’t expect any friends to contact me. I had found myself whittling down my list of friends each time I returned from abroad as I didn’t feel like bothering to contact people who never made any effort with me. There were people I loved and cared for: people who didn’t judge me and people who made me laugh and people with whom I had a shared history; those people would continue to be part of my life. The others would fall by the wayside, as is the case with friendships left to wither.

I was happy to have spent time in China, dipping myself into a culture that was so far from my American life that daily life lost its monotony, that was, until it became routine. China seems to be demonized by so many countries, but, as is most often the case, it’s difficult to demonize individuals.  I enjoyed most of the Chinese folks I encountered, and I came away with an appreciation for the history and the modern day struggles of that teeming and chaotic society.

~ china diaries: catbird’s wanderings through the people’s republic ~

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“ON RETURNING HOME” INVITATION: I invite you to write a post on your own blog about returning home from one particular destination or, alternately, from a long journey encompassing many stops.  How do you linger over your wanderings and create something from them?  How have you changed? Did the place live up to its hype, or was it disappointing? Feel free to address any aspect of your journey and how it influences you upon your return. If you don’t have a blog, I invite you to write in the comments.

For some ideas on this, you can check out the original post about this subject: on returning home.

Include the link in the comments below by Sunday, December 2 at 1:00 p.m. EST.  When I write my post in response to this challenge on Monday, December 3, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation on the first Monday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

the ~ wander.essence ~ community

I invite you all to settle in and read posts from our wandering community. I promise, you’ll be inspired! See below in the comments for any links. 🙂

Thanks to all of you who wrote posts about “on returning home.” 🙂

poetic journeys: evensong

November 2, 2018

EVENSONG

Bells beckon.  We approach
	the portal of Wells Cathedral,
		umbrellas and cameras in hand,
			one dwindling September day.

From the dimming façade,
	stone eyes of life-size
		kings, knights, and saints
			stare sternly down. They know

we are interlopers here,
	American travelers
		sampling a bit of
			English history.

Inside the massive 
	twelfth-century cathedral,
		under lofty arches
			upheld by thick umbrella ribs,

men and boys 
	in white cassocks
		sing psalms and Old
			Testament stories,

a choir
	of plaintive mourning
		doves and painted buntings
			in autumn twilight.

We perch like treasures
	on embroidered cushions,
		on pews carved into separate thrones,
			seventy tainted souls for the choosing.

Haloes of light
	from miniature lamps
		fall on our fingertips,
			tracing heirloom words

that shimmer on thin parchment
	in The Book of Common Prayer.
		We bow our heads
			like orchids, faces washed

with fading watercolor
	from the stained 
		glass windows.
			Incense, tendrils 

of candle flames
	flutter, like clematis
		curling up
			an invisible lattice.

Through sculpted quatrefoils,
	through prisms of jeweled glass,
		what remains of the day
			is simply the sinking sun,

the violet haze,
	the vague sprinkle 
		of stars, asterisks
			on pale indigo velvet.

The choir’s faces glow
	as if holiness 
		is singing rhapsodies 
			through them.

Their evensong ruffles
	my spellbound heart,
		a water lily trembling
			on a pond’s rippling surface.
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Wells Cathedral, Wells, Somerset, England

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“POETRY” Invitation:  I invite you to write a poem of any poetic form on your own blog about a particular travel destination.  Or you can write about travel in general. Concentrate on any intention you set for your poetry.

In this case, I was enrolled in a poetry-writing class in Spring 2001, less than two years after we ventured to England for our first European trip. I believe this poem was from an assignment to experiment with run-on free verse.  The rhythmic character in run-on free verse derives from strong run-on lines broken between the adjectives and nouns. The breaks are meant to force a slightly abnormal pause. This extra hesitation rhythmically evokes a tentative, uncertain feeling.  The choice of where to break the lines is arbitrary.

You can either set your own poetic intentions, or use one of the prompts I’ve listed on this page: writing prompts: prose & poetry.  (This page is a work in process).  You can also include photos, of course.

Include the link in the comments below by Thursday, December 6 at 1:00 p.m. EST.  When I write my post in response to this challenge on Friday, December 7, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation, on the first Friday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

the ~ wander.essence ~ community

I invite you all to settle in and read posts from our wandering community. I promise, you’ll be inspired! See below in the comments for any links.

Thanks to all of you who wrote poetic posts. 🙂

anticipation & preparation: japan

October 26, 2018

In late February of 2017, I was offered a job teaching EFL to Japanese university students in Japan for the spring term (April 7 — August 1).  I opted to extend my stay for one week, until August 8, so I could travel around Japan for a week.

I would be living in Sagamihara City in Kanagawa Prefecture, part of the greater Tokyo metropolitan area.  The capital of Kanagawa is Yokohama, the second largest city in Japan by population (3.7 million); it lies on Tokyo Bay, south of Tokyo, in the Kantō region of the main island of Honshu, and is today one of Japan’s major ports.

I was to leave on Monday morning, March 27, and would arrive at Narita Airport in Tokyo on Tuesday, March 28 at 3:55 p.m.

cherry blossoms at Shinjuku Gyoen Garden
cherry blossoms at Shinjuku Gyoen Garden
Ferris Wheel at Yokohama Cosmo World Amusement Park
sake barrels at Meiji Shrine
couple at Sankeien Garden
Sankeien

I read a number of practical books to get ready for my time in Japan:

These were the books I took along on my trip:

I always love to read novels and travelogues set in a country to which I’m traveling.  Over the years, and in the months prior to my upcoming trip, I read the following novels and memoirs.  If I wrote a review on Goodreads, I’ve included it here.

  • Crawling at Night.  Though this novel takes place in New York City, it tells the story of a Japanese sushi chef. It was written by a friend of mine, Nani Power.
  • When the Emperor was Divine by Julie Otsuka.
  • A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki:
    • I enjoyed this book about Ruth, a “stuck” author, who cannot seem to finish the memoir of her mother’s death. Instead, she happens upon a diary that has washed up on the shore of the island where she lives with her husband. The diary is written by 16-year-old Nao, a Japanese girl who grew up in Sunnyvale, CA but had to move back to Tokyo when her father lost his job after the dot.com bubble burst. In Tokyo, she is subjected to harassment by her classmates; in addition, she has to deal with her father’s multiple failed suicide attempts. Nao is writing the diary to tell her great-grandmother Jiko’s story, but she ends up not really completing that mission, as the diary is mostly focused on her own life. Jiko, a Buddhist nun, has lived to the ripe age of 104 and has a strong influence on Nao’s life. Ruth, the author who finds the diary, gets caught up in Nao’s story and worries she might have been killed in the 2011 tsunami. There are interesting twists with time and quantum physics and multiple & parallel worlds toward the end, which makes the story even more fascinating. I learned a little something about quantum physics, which seems way out of my league, but the author made the subject accessible. I enjoyed the book immensely.
  • The Ginger Tree by Oswald Wynd:
    • I enjoyed this book which is written as journal entries and letters. A young Scotswoman, Mary Mackenzie, sails to China in 1903 to marry a military attache in Peking; her marriage is unsatisfying, and when she has a love affair with a Japanese nobleman, her daughter is taken from her and she becomes an outcast from the European expat community. Two years after arriving in China, she ends up in Japan, where she lives for 37 years, only sporadically seeing her married Japanese lover, yet having a son by him. She is open about her struggles and her status as a “fallen woman,” yet she still can never resist her lover, despite his taking her Japanese-looking son from her. If the child had looked white and European, the child would have been able to stay with his mother. Since he looks Japanese, he is sent off to be raised by a Japanese family, as the lover is already married with his own family. This is a story about a woman’s survival, resilience, and enduring love, both for a man and for a country.  I found this line, written in 1942, to be particularly resonant: “There is nothing like living in a country as an enemy alien to really thin down the roster of your friends.”
  • Moshi Moshi by Banana Yoshimoto:
    • I enjoyed this quiet book about Yocchan, a young woman trying to create a life for herself after her much-loved musician father is found dead in a suicide pact with an unknown woman. She moves into a small apartment across the street from a bistro where she works in Shimokitazawa, in an attempt to establish some independence for herself, when her bereaved mother asks to move in with her. Though living with her mother is not exactly what Yocchan has in mind, she can’t turn her mother down. Yocchan’s daily life is like a meditation: she revels in her repetitive tasks in the bistro, walks in the neighborhood, and engagement with the local shopkeepers. She comes to fully appreciate her mom and her now-deceased father. She derives pleasure from watching people and how they eat; she believes a person’s relationship with food reveals nuances of character. The title of the book, Moshi Moshi, is “hello” in Japanese when talking on the phone; it reflects Yocchan’s obsession with her father’s phone, which he inadvertently left behind on the day he died. She has recurring dreams that her father is trying to reach her by phone, as if he has some unfinished business with Yocchan and her mother, some last message he wants to impart. The book is like a Buddhist meditation on life – quiet yet revealing and, ultimately, satisfying.
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Izuna Gongen-do Hall on Mt. Takao, or Takaosan

Here are books I’ve read about the shameful period in U.S. history when we put the Japanese into internment camps during WWII.

  • Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford:
    • How ironic that I was reading this book as the Donald Trump campaign was raging here in America. Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet is first and foremost a story about love and family, but it is set in 1942 Seattle during the unsettling time after Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor. Japanese-American families were rounded up and put into internment camps because Americans feared there were spies among them. Though told they were being imprisoned “for their own safety,” they were in fact treated just as Trump today would have all minorities treated: walled-off, separated and denied rights. Although the Japanese were not methodically murdered or used in horrific scientific experiments as the Jews were under Hitler, their homes and belongings were taken from them and they were forced to live in camps under armed guard for the duration of the war.
    • The protagonist, Henry, is a Chinese-American whose father is consumed by the Japanese atrocities in China. His father’s obsession with the Japanese as enemies, and the fear that Henry might be misidentified as Japanese, leads his father to insist on Henry wearing an “I am Chinese” button. Henry attends an all-white school on scholarship and is continually bullied by the white students for being different. When Keiko, a Japanese-American girl, appears at school, Henry and Keiko strike up a friendship that is strained not only by Henry’s family’s fears, but by the unsettling historic events around them. I found the book disturbing but also redeeming. While living through our unsettling political times, I could only hope that we wouldn’t repeat this dishonorable period in U.S. history.
  • The Japanese Lover by Isabel Allende:
    • This book seemed so promising, but in the end, I felt it just didn’t deliver. I’d say my star rating is more of a 3.5 than a 3. This story of a love affair between a Japanese man, Ichimei, who spent much of WWII in a Japanese internment camp in the USA, and a Jewish woman, Alma, whose parents perished in WWII, just skimmed the surface. For such a love affair, one that Alma supposedly counted as the love of her life, she couldn’t make the leap to give up her wealth and her station in life to marry a Japanese man. The parallel story of Irina, a care worker at Lark House nursing home, and Seth, Alma’s grandson, isn’t all that intriguing either. I agree with another reviewer who said the story seemed to be hurriedly written. There was more telling than showing, and not much dialogue, and it just seemed generally without structure or deep feeling. I expected more from Isabel Allende; overall I found it disappointing.
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Mountain Streams in Summer and Autumn by Suzuki Kiitsu at the Nezu Museum (photo from a postcard)

Finally, I read a number of books about Zen Buddhism.

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Chureito Pagoda

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Chureito Pagoda & Mt. Fuji

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garden at Hokokuji Temple (The Bamboo Temple)

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Hokokuji Temple (The Bamboo Temple) in Kamakura

I put quite a few books on my Kindle and I also brought along the following novels to read while I was in Japan:

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carvings at Toshogu Shrine in Nikko

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the A-Bomb Dome in Hiroshima

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the floating torii at Itsukushima Shrine on Miyajima

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bridge over lotus pond at Danjo Garan at Mt. Koya

I was excited about meeting my Japanese university students.  I looked forward to exploring the Tokyo area (using my 29 Walks book), eating a lot of Japanese food, and hopefully finding time to visit Hiroshima at some point.  I felt certain other expats in Japan would be able to advise me on other good places to visit.  As I would be working 9-hour days during the weeks, I wasn’t sure how much time I’d have to wander, but I looked forward to exploring as much as I could over the four month period. 🙂

~ catbird in japan | the land of temples and what-nots ~

*March 23, 2017*

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“ANTICIPATION & PREPARATION” INVITATION: I invite you to write a post on your own blog about anticipation & preparation for a particular destination (not journeys in general). If you don’t have a blog, I invite you to write in the comments. Include the link in the comments below by Thursday, November 22 at 1:00 p.m. EST.  When I write my post in response to this challenge on Friday, November 23, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation, on the 4th Friday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂  If you’d like to read more about the topic, see: journeys: anticipation & preparation.

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

the ~ wander.essence ~ community

I invite you all to settle in and read posts from our wandering community. I promise, you’ll be inspired! As I’m still in Spain/Portugal, see below in the comments for any links.

Thanks to all of you who wrote posts about anticipation and preparation. 🙂

the call to place: japan

October 25, 2018

My strange and unexpected fascination with Kyoto, Japan started, quite simply, with a visit to What the Book? in the Itaewon neighborhood of Seoul, South Korea.  Browsing through the travel section in December, 2010 when my son Alex was visiting, I come across a book by Pico Iyer called The Lady and the Monk: Four Seasons in Kyoto.  The picture on the front was enticing enough, the photograph divided diagonally into two parts.  On the top triangle was a Japanese lady in a mustard colored kimono, holding an umbrella by her side.  On the bottom was a city street with neon signs and fast-moving headlight beams, like red and yellow silk threads, speeding down the length of the streets.

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Inspiration

The blurb on the back cover said Pico Iyer decided to go to Kyoto and live in a monastery, to learn about Zen Buddhism from the inside, to get to know one of the loveliest cities in the world, and to experience Japanese culture.  To be honest, this was what hooked me and caused me to open the book.  On the first page he described an accidental encounter with Japan, which occured only because of an overnight layover on a flight to somewhere else.  In the morning, he walked outside: “As I began to walk along the narrow lanes, I felt, in fact, as if I were walking through a gallery of still lifes.  Everything looked exactly the way it was supposed to look, polished to a sheen, and motionless.”

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the curving staircase at Eikan-do

There were multiple things that appealed to me about the whole premise of this book.  I was enthralled.  First, the idea of Japan as a “still life” was intriguing.  I didn’t have any interest in going to Japan as I feared it would be a repeat of Korea.  Many Koreans told me Japan was just like Korea.  Of course, many of those Koreans had never left their own country, so I didn’t know why I should have believed them.  Then several fellow English teachers I knew in Korea also said it was about the same.  These comments steered me away from Japan because I’d explored many corners of Korea during the year and I really didn’t want to spend my time and money flying to Japan to see more of the same.  Nothing in Korea could honestly be compared to a “still life.”  But those two simple words shifted my perspective.  They felt like an invitation into a painting, a piece of art awash with color and beauty, with elegant gardens and exquisite taste.

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pretty little what-nots

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still life in Kyoto

The other thing that piqued my interest was Pico Iyer’s desire to learn about Zen Buddhism.  In Korea, I had put off time and again doing a temple stay.  I finally ended up doing one, but only toward the end of my stay in late February of 2011, after I’d been to Japan (temple stay at golgulsa sunmudo ~ a surprise encounter with monk-type martial arts).  This interest in Zen was one of the things that fascinated me about this book, and about Japan.

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Heian-jingu Shrine

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the golden pavilion at Kinkaku-ji

I enjoyed Japanese food, especially sushi that I’d eaten in the U.S.  I loved to see ornamental gardens and the cultivation of beauty all around.  After all, I used to take classes in interior design and had a small interior design business of my own for a while.  I decorated my own house in Virginia from top to bottom.  I’ve always been drawn to exuberant colors.  I loved the idea of ritual.  I loved the idea of tea ceremonies and flower arranging, although I’d never participated in either.

garden in Kyoto
temple in Kyoto
Tempura in Kyoto
colorful change purses
typical shop in Japan

Years ago, I read Memoirs of a Geisha.  I found the geisha culture fascinating, though disturbing on many levels.  I also read the book Hiroshima, by John Hersey, a moving and highly disturbing personal story of that city’s residents who survived the nuclear attack in 1945.  I used to think if I ever visited Japan, I would have to go to Hiroshima where it is said you can see outlines of people who were vaporized by the bomb on concrete walls.  I didn’t know if this was simply a legend.  Anyway, I’d talked to people who visited Hiroshima and they said it is extremely depressing, much like visiting the Holocaust Museum in Washington, I assume.  An educational and moving and disturbing voyage, something everyone should do.  It wouldn’t be something I would do on my first visit.

girls in kimono at Heian-jingu Shrine
girls in kimono drinking from a well of good fortune at kiyomizu-dera temple

I wasn’t knowledgeable overall about Japanese culture. So I looked forward to spending five days in Kyoto over the lunar new year in February, 2011.  I looked forward to painting myself, a mere fleeting brushstroke, into the “still life” of Kyoto conjured up by Pico Iyer.

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the famous rock garden at Ryoan-ji, or Temple of the Peaceful Dragon

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the cute little Randen Railway

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the Bamboo Path at Arashiyama

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ema at Nonomiya

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celebration of Lunar New Year at Tenryuji Temple

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me going bicycling in Kyoto

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the infinite torii gates at Fushimi-Inari-Taisha

All photos are from my first visit to Kyoto in February, 2011.

**

Fast forward to late February of 2017, six years after my first visit to Japan. I was offered a job teaching EFL to Japanese university students in Japan beginning on March 28, 2017 (the term actually began April 7 and ended August 1).  I opted to extend my stay for one week, until August 8, so I could travel around Japan for a week. As I’d always wanted to visit Hiroshima, I’d have to incorporate a visit into that journey.

My short trip to Kyoto in February 2011 had been delightful.  I loved the Buddhist temples, the ubiquitous vending machines, Japanese food, the cleanliness and efficiency of everything. I looked forward to exploring as much of Japan as I could in the four months I’d be there.

I would live in Sagamihara City in Kanagawa Prefecture, part of the greater Tokyo metropolitan area.  The capital of Kanagawa is Yokohama, the second largest city in Japan by population (3.7 million); it lies on Tokyo Bay, south of Tokyo, in the Kantō region of the main island of Honshu, and is today one of Japan’s major ports.

~ catbird in japan | the land of temples and what-nots ~

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“THE CALL TO PLACE” INVITATION: I invite you to write a post on your own blog about what enticed you to choose a particular destination. If you don’t have a blog, I invite you to write in the comments.  If your destination is a place you love and keep returning to, feel free to write about that.  If you want to see the original post about the subject, you can check it out here: imaginings: the call to place.

Please include the link in the comments below by Wednesday, November 21 at 1:00 p.m. EST.  When I write my post in response to this challenge on Thursday, November 22, I’ll include your links in that post. If you’d like, you can use the hashtag #wanderessence.

This will be an ongoing invitation, on the fourth Thursday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

the ~ wander.essence ~ community

I invite you all to settle in and read a few posts from our wandering community.  I promise, you’ll be inspired! As I’m still in Spain/Portugal, see below in the comments for any links.

Thanks to all of you who wrote posts about “the call to place.” 🙂

things i learned in niagara falls, ontario

October 23, 2018

I learned that a bed and breakfast in Niagara Falls can be way over the top, an extravaganza of color, turrets, kitsch and knick-knacks.

I learned that the view of Horseshoe Falls is all-encompassing and stunning from the Canadian side.

I learned that Hornblower Cruises is the Canadian boat ride into the tumult of the horseshoe, and that passengers wear red ponchos.

I learned that when it’s a gloomy day, I feel gloomy, and when it’s sunny, I feel sunny. 🙂

I learned that there is a Ten Thousand Buddha Temple north of Niagara Falls where monks are dedicated to spreading peace and understanding of dharma philosophy.

I learned that Niagara-on-the-Lake is charming little town but there isn’t much to do there.

I learned that the waitress at Fouros Greek Restaurant seemed a bit terrified when preparing the flaming saganaki for many customers.

I relearned that I despise eggs with runny whites. (Not that I ever forget!)

I  learned that at the brink of Niagara Falls a speed of 109km/hour has been recorded, while downriver where the Niagara River expands, it reaches 40km/hour.  At the White Water Walk, they reach 48km/hour, making them Class 6 rapids.

I learned that Class 6 rapids, the highest level, are extremely difficult to maneuver due to steep vertical drops and boulders; Class 6 is usually considered unrunnable.

I learned that the Whirlpool Rapids run for 4km through Niagara Gorge and have standing waves of 3-5 meters, caused not by rock obstructions but by the sheer force of water being channeled through the narrowing gorge.

I learned that tightrope walkers are known as funambulists.

I learned that the first person to cross the Gorge on a rope was Jean Francois Gravelet “Blondin.” In 1860, he carried a 56-lb. stove on his back. Dressed in a chef’s uniform, he carried 3 tin plates, a small hand bellows, a spirit lamp, wooden matches and some flammable tar pitch. After putting down the stove on one part of the rope, he cooked up a two-egg omelet and ate it.

I learned that Barrel Rider Maude Williams got caught the swirling vortex of the whirlpool for six hours in 1901 and died of suffocation because her pet dog, who accompanied her, put his nose into the only hole in the barrel, cutting off her air supply.

I learned that daredevil performances began in 1859 to meet the demands of spectators. Because of fatalities, they were made illegal in 1911.  Violators are now fined $10,000.

I learned that Harriet Tubman and other slaves made their way into Canada on the suspension bridge over the Niagara River in 1856.

I learned that you can take your kids down a garish street with haunted houses, wax museums, a Ferris wheel, a bowling alley, Ripley’s Believe It or Not, fast food joints, and tacky souvenir shops.

I learned that even though I hate loud, kitschy arcades like the ones on Centre Street, I love taking photos of them.

I learned it’s fun to spend time with an old friend who you haven’t seen in five years.

I learned that I’m not patient enough to capture butterflies on camera.

I learned it’s fun to walk around drinking Tempranillo in silver espresso cups with a good friend.

I learned that in Canada they use the term “open carry” to refer to walking around with an open alcoholic beverage while in America we use it to refer to openly carrying a firearm in public.

I learned that seeing waterfalls and rainbows under blue skies, while chatting with an old friend, make my day.

I learned that I’m lucky to have friends in life, like Mona Lisa, who never fail to make an effort with me.  She lugged a bottle of wine and silver cups in her backpack all the way from Waterloo on the bus, and she treated me to the Butterfly Conservatory.

I learned that the power of water never fails to amaze.

I learned that after sundown, Horseshoe Falls is lit in candy-colors of green, turquoise and pink.

I learned I always enjoy meeting European travelers in the U.S.

A Moment in Time B&B
My room in A Moment in Time B&B
The breakfast room at A Moment in Time
Hornblower Cruises & Horseshoe Falls
Ten Thousand Buddha Temple
Ten Thousand Buddha Temple
Niagara-on-the-Lake
Niagara-on-the-Lake
White Water Walk
Ripley’s Believe It or Not
Centre Street
Ferris wheel and bowling on Centre Street
Fudge on Centre Street
Butterfly Conservatory
Butterfly in the Conservatory
Rainbow over Horseshoe Falls
Double rainbow and Hornblower Cruises
Mona Lisa at Horseshoe Falls
me at Horseshoe Falls
Brink of the Falls
Brink of the Falls lit up at night

*June 27-28, 2018*

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“PROSE” INVITATION: I invite you to write up to a post on your own blog about a recently visited particular destination (not journeys in general). Concentrate on any intention you set for your prose.  In this case, one of my intentions for my trip to Niagara Falls, Ontario was to write a “things I learned” list in each place.

It doesn’t matter whether you write fiction or non-fiction for this invitation.  You can either set your own writing intentions, or use one of the prompts I’ve listed on this page: writing prompts: prose & poetry.  (This page is a work in process.) You can also include photos, of course.

Include the link in the comments below by Monday, November 12 at 1:00 p.m. EST.  When I write my post in response to this invitation on Tuesday, November 13, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

the ~ wander.essence ~ community

I invite you all to settle in and read a few posts from our wandering community.  I promise, you’ll be inspired. See below in the comments for any links. 🙂

Thanks to all of you who wrote prosaic posts following intentions you set for yourself. 🙂

 

on journey: digging deep ~ edgy korean bus culture, tea bushes & wetlands, & the surrendered

October 17, 2018

One early Saturday morning in October, I ventured out on the first leg of a quest to discover the hidden Korea, that of the former war zone. Destination: the southwest of the country, Jeollanam-do province. I wanted to see the tea plantations of Boseong and the eco-park of Suncheon Bay.  I was lugging a hardback copy of the 2010 book, The Surrendered, by Korean author Chang-Rae Lee, who teaches creative writing at Princeton University.

Since I had a 3-month stretch ahead with virtually no holidays, I decided I would explore as much of Korea as I could on the yellow- and scarlet-hued autumn weekends. Granted, my destination this time was not a war zone. Maybe this destination never even figured prominently in the Korean War.  Maybe. But as I read this book, I thought that there was probably not a place in Korea left unscathed by that war. I was trying to dig in deep, to see Korea in a light shadowed to this day by a war that ravaged this country fewer than 60 years before.

I left my apartment at 6 a.m. to catch the 7:05 bus to Suncheon from the Seobu bus terminal in Daegu. The bus ride, which I was told would be 3 to 3 1/2 hours, was uneventful, except for the delightful surprise that it was only 2 1/2 hours! During the ride, I was caught up in the story of June, an 11-year-old Korean girl, who in 1950 witnessed the death of her mother and sister, and the arrest of her father and older brother. On her own, she was caring for her 7-year-old twin brother and sister. June took on the responsibility for transporting her siblings safely toward Busan, along with thousands of other refugees fleeing the war. What might have otherwise been a pretty journey through “hills just turning the colors of pumpkin and hay and pomegranate” was in fact a harrowing journey; this 11-year-old girl suffered horribly and ultimately lost both of her siblings in a gruesome train accident along the way.

Not happy reading, granted. But I wanted to see what makes Koreans tick, what in their history makes them the way they are. So I read along, totally engrossed, until I got to Suncheon.

At the Suncheon bus terminal, I boarded a bus to Boseong. Walking down the aisle, I passed a Korean man dressed in black yelling into his cell phone in the front seat. This was not so abnormal in Korea; many Koreans yell into their cell phones as a matter of course. But it became quickly evident that this man was furious.

I didn’t witness what happened next, but possibly the bus driver came on board and told the man to quiet down. By this time, I was seated about a third of the way back from the front of the bus. Suddenly the yelling man began to punch the bus driver, forcing him toward the back; he pushed the driver into a seat maybe four rows behind me. The yelling man was pummeling the poor bus driver who was cowering against the window. This violent man then pulled off his shirt, revealing tattoos on his arm and back, and grabbed the bus driver around the throat and was knocking him upside the head, so that his head was bouncing like a rubber ball against the window.

All the passengers sat in their seats, stupefied by this spectacle. I stood up along with a Korean girl. I thought briefly about stepping into the middle but realized this would be idiotic. This man wouldn’t hesitate to hit a woman. I was terrified he would kill the poor bus driver. The Korean girl and I looked at each other and we quickly ducked off the bus to find help. She spoke to some guys standing in the bus terminal (they looked like employees at the terminal) and I was yelling and making fighting gestures and beckoning them to follow, which they did.

Back on the bus, the man was still beating on the bus driver. Both of them were yelling angrily, but the bus driver was taking the brunt of the blows. The bus terminal men entered the fray and pulled the two apart and forcibly removed the crazy guy from the bus. The bus driver, clearly shaken, went to the front and started to collect tickets, front to back. Surprisingly, he didn’t look bloodied or bruised, but he was an emotional wreck. He said something to me, and a Korean guy sitting nearby told me in English that the bus driver thanked me.

As the bus took off, I caught the eye of a young red-headed guy who I’d seen earlier in the bus terminal. We started commiserating about the fight, trying to figure out what precipitated it. He said, “Did you see that guy’s stomach? It had scars all over it. He’s been in a lot of fights.” We couldn’t figure out exactly what started it. I told him I was thinking of stepping into the middle; I hoped they wouldn’t dare hit a woman. The red-head said he was told that if there were ever any trouble in Korea, a foreigner should NEVER get involved because foreigners are often blamed as instigators.

On our one hour ride to Boseong, we talked a lot: the red-head whose name was Peter, the English-speaking Korean guy who went by the English name of Jacob, and me. The fight excited us such that we became garrulous. Jacob was full of questions about both of us, asking Peter and me what we were doing in Korea. Jacob himself was a Korean who had been living and working in the Philippines for 10 years. He was 50 years old, married, and had three children: a 20-year-old daughter, and 18-year-old twins. He was in “trade” – mainly vitamins and health foods. He asked my age, but I insisted it was a mystery. He was in Korea working and also exploring on weekends parts of the country he hadn’t seen before. He told me he was headed to the tea plantations for the day and I said that’s where I was going too.

Peter, who was 27, was from New Brunswick, Canada, and had been teaching in Korea for one month in a public middle school in Boseong. He told me that in Boseong they have a 5-day market. Every 5 days, everyone gathers their goods together to sell or to barter. Today was the market day.

Once we arrived in Boseong, Peter took off for his home, and Jacob and I waited for the bus to Yulpo Beach, which would drop us at the tea plantations.

inside the seobu bus terminal in daegu
inside the bus
Jacob and Peter

At the bus terminal, Jacob motioned for me to sit on a bench with some ajumas for a picture. I was happy about this as I’ve been trying to surreptitiously take pictures of ajumas but have never actually gotten one full on with their awareness and participation. They were quite happy to smile and pose; afterward I showed them each the picture and the one wearing a pink shirt held on to my camera, telling Jacob she wanted a copy of the picture. They asked Jacob if we were husband and wife. This was the first of such questions thrown our way throughout the day. Each time we laughed and said, no, we had just met on the bus!

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me with the ajumas

On the derelict bus, hardscrabble Korean locals carried bags or boxes of products to take to the 5-day market: dried chili peppers, live chickens (!), rice, roots and various leafy vegetables.  They disembarked well before the tea farms.  The bus driver made one stop to drop off a huge plastic bag full of red chili peppers.  I wondered if the chili peppers had to pay the bus fare.

the local bus to the market
a local Korean man on the way to the Boseong market

Jacob and I got dropped at the entrance to Daehan Dawon, touted as Korea’s one and only “green tea farm” theme park.  We went into a little shop and the lady there served us some green tea.  I was surprised that green tea tasted more like a broth than the tea I’m accustomed to.  The lady asked Jacob’s age; he told her 50 and she told him he looked very young.  She asked him my age, and he explained to her that apparently it was a very sensitive issue!  She then asked us if we were husband and wife, and we both laughed and said that we just met on the bus. We drank our tea and walked through a lovely canopy of trees toward the plantation.  This place was so lushly green, with its millions of tea plants and its cedar, cypress, yew, ginkgo, maple and camellia trees.

the tea lady
me and Jacob having tea

In 1939, a study concluded that Boseong was an ideal place to cultivate green tea.  Optimal conditions include annual rainfall of more than 60 inches (1500 mm), porous and permeable soil, cool weather with a great daily temperature range, and high humidity.  Soon after the study, tea planting started across the region.  But, during the Korean War, all the fields were ravaged.

It turns out I was right: no place in Korea was left unscathed by the war.   In 1957, the tea industry started again.  Now there are 5.8 million tea plants growing on this green tea farm.  In 2005, the plantation’s tea was certified as organic.

Jacob and I wandered leisurely through the lush green carpets of tea bushes and then climbed up a steep hill to a vantage point.  He said, It smells so good!  I sniffed the air and I couldn’t smell anything. 😦

After walking up and down and taking multitudes of photos, we returned to the bottom. Jacob told me his wife worked as a volunteer teacher for a Christian missionary organization. She taught elementary school. Apparently when their children leave home, his wife would like to return to Korea where, because of her years of teaching, she could make a lot of money. But Jacob told her that he could provide and that God would like it best if she continued her volunteer teaching. Both he and his wife were really concerned that their children didn’t know enough about Korean culture. Jacob told me he went on a trip with a church group to Turkey to follow St. Paul’s travels. He went to many of the same places I did, but he lost his USB with all his photos on it. Jacob also told me that that morning he had prayed to God that he would meet someone today to explore Korea with. He says his prayer was answered because he met me.

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Boseong Tea Plantation

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Boseong Tea Plantation

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me at Boseong Tea Plantation

We returned to the tea shop to retrieve our bags, with the intention of taking the Yulpo Beach bus further south, where there were supposedly even more beautiful tea plantations. The proprietor told us the bus would arrive at 2:50. We waited until 3:30 and then decided we couldn’t wait any longer. Jacob had to go to Gwangju and then to Daejeon this evening to meet some friends and I wanted to go back to Suncheon and find a hotel before it started raining. So we crossed under the bridge to catch the bus back to Boseong. In Boseong, Jacob went on his merry way toward his friends. I was disappointed not to see the next tea farm, but, as it turned out, I finally arrived back in Suncheon just before a downpour. I had to find a hotel and with the help of a patient and kind-hearted lady at the Suncheon terminal tourist information, I was directed to the BMW Motel.

When I walked up to the BMW Motel, smoke was pouring out of the parking lot into the entryway. The proprietor was using a fire extinguisher on the source of the fire; it looked like a trashcan and some bedding from one of the rooms. He sprayed it with the fire extinguisher and came into the hotel to check me in. I told him, using gestures, that I wanted to see the room before paying, but he simply could not understand and kept sticking out his hand for my money. While this failure to communicate was transpiring, the fire flared up again, and I gestured wildly to him that the fire had revived. He was unperturbed by my gestures, so I got wilder and more demented-looking in my miming: Come! Come! Fire!! He was utterly clueless. Finally, he got up from behind his little glass enclosed cage and grabbed the fire extinguisher again.

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the BMW Hotel

Meanwhile, I called a friend to translate for me that I wanted to see the room before paying. Finally. I inspected the room and paid the 30,000 won. I left my bag and stupidly headed out into the rain and the impending darkness to go to Suncheon Bay. I was hoping that by the time I returned to the BMW, the fire would be extinguished. I hoped the whole motel wouldn’t burn down in my absence.

By the time I finally got to the bay, it was dark and pouring down rain! I was obviously not yet ready to accept the shorter days of fall.  I didn’t want to be dropped in the middle of nowhere, but the driver gestured vehemently that I had to get off.  Luckily the bus stop was covered and I waited with a few other stragglers for a good 20 minutes to go back to Suncheon. I caught the same bus with the same driver who forced me to get off in the first place.

In Suncheon, I found a Paris Baguette, ate a shrimp and vegetable bun, bought a beer, and settled into my room, where I planned to relax, read, and watch TV.  However, I was so wound up that I couldn’t sleep.  I dove into The Surrendered, which was so intense that I found it impossible to sleep.  I was up until well after midnight, trudging along with 11-year-old June Han and other desperate war refugees to the south of Korea, hungry, terrified, surrounded by death and utter confusion, and hanging on to survival by a flimsy filament of hope and determination.

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Unable to sleep because of The Surrendered

The story followed three main characters: June, Hector and Sylvie; its locale moved from Korea to New Jersey to Manchuria.  It was a complicated story about the effects of war on people’s psyches.  I came across excellent descriptions of the Korea I had come to know.  At one point, Hector, who had fought in the mountains of Korea, ruminated about the cold: “He knew the cold in Korea, at least in the mountains in the far north, how it seeped into you and then resided with an unrelenting grip…”  My own father, who also served in the U.S. Navy during the Korean War told me before I came here that all he could remember about Korea was that it was the coldest place he’d ever been.  I arrived in Korea in February, and it was bitter, unrelentingly cold.

Hector also mused about the mountains of Korea, which are certainly ubiquitous: “The grounds of the orphanage were set on a low and wide plateau amid steeper, higher hills and mountains that ranged across much of the country.  The land was a lesson in hills, one right after the next.”

The book reminded me how tenuous life can be.  There is normalcy, and then, suddenly, there is not.  War does that.  The atrocities people are capable of inflicting on one another during extreme situations like war are beyond belief.

After reading The Surrendered, when I saw old farmers and bent-backed ajumas in Korea, I knew they had seen horrors in their lives that we could never imagine.  I hoped the 50+ year armistice between North and South Korea would hold, or would someday be resolved, so that this resilient country wouldn’t have to suffer such hardships again.

*Saturday, October 2, 2010*

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“ON JOURNEY” INVITATION: I invite you to write a post on your own blog about the journey itself for a recently visited specific destination. If you don’t have a blog, I invite you to write in the comments.

In this case, my intention was to explore far flung parts of Korea and to learn something about how the Korean War impacted the people and the country, as informed by taking along the book, The Surrendered.  On the journey, I encountered a cast of unusual characters, a cross section of Korean culture.

Include the link in the comments below by Tuesday, November 20 at 1:00 p.m. EST.  When I write my post in response to this challenge on Wednesday, November 21, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation, once on the third Wednesday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

the ~ wander.essence ~ community

I invite you all to settle in and read a few posts from our wandering community.  I promise, you’ll be inspired! See below in the comments for any links.

Many thanks to all of you who wrote posts about the journey. I’m inspired by all of you! 🙂

 

anticipation & preparation: china

September 28, 2018

I felt like I’d been preparing for China since I was a young girl.  Between my ill-fated attempts to dig to China, numerous books such as Wild Swans, and movies such as The Painted Veil, China had seeped its way into my imagination. Enamored of Buddhist temples in South Korea, I knew I wanted to see China’s colorful temples. Having seen the karsts in Halong Bay, Vietnam, I wanted to see China’s karsts in Yangshuo and Guilin.  As I’d seen one of China’s extravaganzas in Beijing – its amazing acrobatic and dance shows – I wanted to see at least one more.

Buddhist temple in South Korea
Halong Bay, Vietnam
Karsts in Halong Bay

I knew I wanted to see Hong Kong and the Terra Cotta Warriors in Xian.  I wanted to see junks and elaborate Chinese gardens and ancient villages. I wanted to experience life with over one billion people.

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ancient village of Fenghuang

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the Li River in Yangshuo

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karst landscape and the Li River between Yangshuo and Guilin

Junk in Hong Kong
temple in Hong Kong
Garden in Xian
pavilion in Xian
The Terra Cotta Warriors in Xian
The Terra Cotta Warriors in Xian
Acrobatic & Dance show in Xian
Acrobatic & Dance show in Xian
Shanghai skyline
teahouse in Yu Yuan Garden in Shanghai

Once I got a job offer from Sino-Canadian International College (SCIC) in early 2014, I started preparing in earnest by reading more books.

I read the following books starting in January of 2014:

My favorite book of this bunch was Ha Jin’s Waiting, a captivating story. Here is my review from Goodreads:

Winner of the National Book Award, Waiting tells the story of Lin Kong, a doctor in the Chinese army, who returns to his village each year to divorce his peasant wife, the loyal but unattractive Shuyu. Their marriage is an arranged and loveless marriage, and Lin has lived apart from Shuyu for almost every year since his marriage. However, whenever he returns home, he feels a comfort he can’t really explain, although he and Shuyu have no intimate relationship. Every year for 18 years, he is unsuccessful in his attempts at divorce and must return to the city to tell his lover, the educated modern nurse Manna Wu, that their wedding must be postponed again.

Lin Kong is an educated bookworm, passionless in almost every way. He doesn’t feel strongly about divorcing his wife, who embarrasses him with her bound feet and her peasant looks. Neither does he feel a strong passion for Manna, although he does find her attractive and feels he must love her because he feels very comfortable, and not embarrassed, with her. In all the years of waiting for this divorce that never materializes, there is not a shred of impropriety between he and Manna. Lin Kong is an indecisive man who questions his feelings on everything, and thus is paralyzed by indecision.

Though the story is a very quiet one, full of everyday life and mundane details, I couldn’t put it down. I too found myself waiting, and waiting, for something to happen which would give some resolution to Lin Kong’s life. When after 18 years, he’s legally allowed to divorce his wife without her consent, he does so and promptly marries Manna. Manna wants to get pregnant right away, which Lin Kong doesn’t want. He immediately begins to feel burdened by the twins Manna has and by married life. By the time they marry, Manna has aged and Lin wonders if he was ever really in love with her. He still visits his wife and daughter, who move to the city to be nearby, and he feels comfortable with them. He finally gets what he wants, yet he is still waiting. For what, I don’t know. He doesn’t see the people around him who love him dearly; he keeps thinking there should be something more. He even considers planning an escape with his last bit of savings, abandoning all his family.

It was strange while reading this: it slowly dawned on me that Lin will always be waiting. In the last chapters, I began to see myself, and everyone. It seems we all live our lives in a kind of restlessness, waiting and waiting for something to happen, but not having any idea what it is we’re waiting for. We wait, as life moves forward around us, unnoticed and unappreciated.

I also read Amy Tan’s The Valley of Amazement.

I so enjoyed this epic tale of Violet Minturn, who grew up in the courtesan houses of Shanghai during the early 1900s. Violet encountered one horrible experience after another during times of upheaval in China, and I wondered how anything could ever come out well for her. She is the beloved daughter of Lulu, her American mother who runs a high-class courtesan house. When her mother leaves Shanghai, Violet gets left behind due to an act of chicanery by her mother’s friend, Fairweather; she has no choice but to become a virgin courtesan. Violet finds she is half-Chinese, and her mother’s affair with the Chinese painter Lu Shing is an integral part of the story. Later, after her beloved husband Edward dies and her daughter Flora is taken from her, she ends up back in a courtesan house. When Violet looks to escape the courtesan life by marrying a “poet,” she finds once again she’s been duped and ends up a prisoner in a remote part of China, 300 miles from Shanghai, in the Valley of Amazement, the place depicted in a painting done by her father.  Though the book is long, I really enjoyed reading it and imagining life in Shanghai at the turn of the 20th century.

The books that I didn’t have time to read before leaving, I took along to read while in China:

I didn’t bother trying to learn Chinese except for a few words; I knew it would be hopeless as I’m terrible with languages in general, and I knew I’d never get Mandarin’s tonal ranges.

I took a journal, but I hardly wrote anything in it; I usually just wrote directly on my blog.  I added a couple more journals while I was there, to take with me on my travels; those I did use a little.

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Journals I used in China

I would be in China for nearly a year, through all kinds of weather, so packing was a major ordeal. I got my equipment in order, taking my Olympus camera. As I did every time I went abroad to work, I had to work out a new phone or new SIM card upon arrival, along with bank accounts and apartment utilities accounts. And of course I had to register with the authorities for a long-term stay.

On August 30, 2014, I was off to the People’s Republic on Air China.  I arrived in Beijing after a grueling 13 hour and 40 minute non-stop flight.  When I landed at 6:40 p.m. on Sunday, August 31, I spent the night in a hotel at the airline’s expense.  In the morning, I caught a flight to Nanning City, Guangxi Province, People’s Republic of China, arriving at 10:40 a.m. on Monday, September 1.  One of the students from Guangxi University met me at the airport and helped me to get settled in.   I was assigned an apartment on the campus, and basic necessities were supplied for the teachers.  After a couple of weeks, I was given a bicycle to use.

Though this was the third time I’d gone abroad to work, I was still nervous.  At the same time, I was equally excited.  I was excited to be back in Asia again.  It is such a different world than what I’m used to, I imagined each day I’d be immersed in exotic and interesting experiences.

So, I said 再見 = zai jian (goodbye) to my home in the USA and 你好 = Nǐ hǎo (hello) to China.

*August 30, 2014*

~  china diaries | catbird’s wanderings through the people’s republic ~

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“ANTICIPATION & PREPARATION” INVITATION: I invite you to write a post on your own blog about anticipation & preparation for a particular destination (not journeys in general). If you don’t have a blog, I invite you to write in the comments.

While I’m in Spain walking the Camino de Santiago from August 31 – October 25, and then in Portugal from October 26 – November 6, I kindly request that if you write an
“anticipation and preparation” piece, please simply link it to the appropriate post, this one or my next one as soon as it publishes.  I will try my best to read your posts while I’m on my journey, but I won’t have a computer or the time or ability to add links to my posts.

My next post about anticipation and preparation will be on Friday, October 26.

This will be an ongoing invitation, on the 4th Friday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂  If you’d like to read more about the topic, see: journeys: anticipation & preparation.

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

the ~ wander.essence ~ community

I invite you all to settle in and read posts from our wandering community. I promise, you’ll be inspired!  See below in the comments for any additional links.

Thanks to all of you who wrote posts about anticipation and preparation. 🙂