Of Shanghai, Shoe Designers, and Pop-Culture Philosophy.

*note: in reference to my recent post, I want to clarify my comment about the one-child policy, in case my sarcasm went unnoticed: thanks to the one-child policy, my two younger brothers have not been able to gain citizenship because they are the 2^nd and 3^rd children in this family. As a result, they go unrecognized by the government, and for all legal technicalities, do not “exist.” This fact is one I deeply am moved and angered by. These two children, though only 4 and 6 years old, have enough brain-power and energy to run their own country. They deserve more, and I’ll stand by them with all the strength I have. Just wanted to clarify…

Anyway…

…Christmas finally came, and with it, adventures in a Chinese amusement park. That’s right. My family and I spent our Christmas Eve day in Shenzhen’s famous (apparently) Water Mountain Park, complete with roller-coaster and zoo. I guess I had originally imagined that we’d somehow be spending the day with my Chinese family, doing Christmassy things like, say, opening gifts… or spending time as a family (well, families), talking to one another about Christmases come and gone… I think I’d imagined a fireplace somewhere in there…

But, no! We spent the day at an amusement park, chatting, laughing, eating, drinking, roller-coaster-riding… Not your typical Christmas. We had an absolutely marvelous time, and the day will always remain a wonderful memory.

On Christmas day itself, my cousin Rachel joined my father and mother and I for a day in Hong Kong. It was fantastic, just to sit and talk about all things China, to catch up, and to learn a few extra Chinese phrases from Rachel, who happens to be taking Mandarin lessons. Family is a wonderful thing, and it takes leaving your loved-ones behind to truly realize just how much the words “I love you,” (words we often take for granted, especially in a “family” context) really mean. I’m so, so incredibly lucky, and I wish from the bottom of my heart that each of my friends could know the joy and the preciousness of having a family that shares love the way mine’s been blessed to. I’m blessed to grow up with people like this. I’m just utterly blessed. I’ll put it that simply.

So, I’m sure, you can understand that it was quite difficult for me to wake up the next morning and realize that I’d be leaving them. Again.

But, adventure called, and I had another train to catch. Rachel and I would leave Hong Kong that morning and travel to Shanghai. So, the morning flew by in a flurry… packing and repacking and breakfast and travel itineraries and phone calls… and suddenly we were in the lobby and we were hugging our farewells…

…a mere 6 hours later, I was in a taxi with my cousin marveling at the Shanghai skyline.

Shanghai. Now that’s a city. If Beijing is Washington D.C., Shanghai is New York, Los Angeles, and Las Vegas all rolled into one intriguingly tumultuous bundle of fascinating architecture, fashion, taxis, art, coffee-shops, hotels, party-goers, drug-dealers (sadly), antique-markets, peanut-ice (delicious, I promise!), high-prices…

The list goes on.

Shanghai is the type of city one has to spend years in to truly get the feel for. I was only there a week, and felt so overwhelmed by the end of it all that my brain nearly popped. But Shanghai itself can’t seem to leave my mind; there’s definitely an energy to that place that’s intoxicating.

Rachel and Kyle, her brother, are my cousins. Both live and work in Shanghai, and I can’t even begin to describe how inspiring they are as human beings. Rachel deals in advertisement for luxury brands in China, and Kyle works for an architecture firm… the same architecture firm that recently finished designing (with his considerable influence) the new Shanghai tower. Look it up. It’s quite impressive!

Most of our week together flew by in one high-energy, caffeinated blur. (I mean caffeinated quite literally. In addition to being brilliant and hilarious, my cousins both have an almost worrying obsession with coffee, and I suspect that their cappuccino-craze is contagious.) As for the high-energy… oh, the stories I could tell! So many interesting people! So many interesting places!

We spent one of the first nights of my time in Shanghai at a dinner party in a posh shoe designer’s flat… complete with professionally graffiti-ed walls, a techno beat, low lighting, strange furniture (the dining table, for example, was composed of brightly colored mannequin legs), cigarette smoke, and an incredibly spoiled pug-dog named Pooka… or Pucci… or Charles… I can’t remember. Either way, the dinner party itself was an experience. I met such fascinating people (one of whom I’m pretty sure is connected with the Chinese mafia… but that’s a story for another time) I met people who spoke with accents from anywhere between Brazil and London… Vancouver and India…

I loved it. It was a new world. Not one I desire to live in, but I certainly don’t mind dropping in for a visit now and then.

The following nights of my time in Shanghai (including a wonderful and memorable New Years Eve) passed similarly among brilliant and infinitely interesting social artists. At 16, I was exposed to I lifestyle I’ve only ever seen on TV, or read about in airplane magazines… people dancing, drinking, smoking, gossiping for the camera… all with a vocabulary denoting something enchantingly intellectual underneath the makeup or the martini, depending on who you talked to. While there’s a certain charm to the lights and the drama, this is a lifestyle I’d never choose for myself… I don’t think I could handle it… it’d be like trying to flamboyantly dance a tango while balancing four books and a teacup on my head. Throw my faith in the mix, and you’d have a disaster.

I am glad I was exposed to this type of lifestyle now, rather than later. I feel like, as a young person out and about in the world, I’m able to grasp a different perspective on things… like… the high school party scene, for example. At home, I just accepted it. But now, at the risk of sounding cynical, I feel as though I’ve learned, in a very realistic sense, that there’s truly “nothing new under the sun.” People utterly intoxicated by pride, fear, scandal, and yes, even alcohol, are the same whether they’re 16, or 65. The only thing that differs is perhaps the amount of elasticity in the skin around their eyes.

Shanghai taught me so much. And perhaps the most important thing it taught, or rather reminded me of, was that it doesn’t matter. All I need to do is see beyond all of that. To see beyond the outward show, beyond the drinking and the clothes and the intellectual lingo… to think and act beyond that, and think on the heart of a person, even if that heart happens to be broken.  Because, a person’s heart, who they really are, is the only thing that matters.

Because the heart is where God lives. And loves. And what could be more important or exciting than Love?

Well, to put it simply, Shanghai was an adventure. (I think you can probably tell that clearly enough by my long and impassioned tangent). Among the art galleries and the New Year parties and the architecture and the coffee shops and the long taxi-rides… I think perhaps my favorite part was merely spending time with my cousins. I loved getting to know them both better, getting to watch them interact with each other and those around them, seeing their depths and joys and strengths and loves and hates… You should know that I’ve grown up with Rachel and Kyle, but our time in Shanghai really showed me their personalities and their spirits in ways I’d never seen before. I made some marvelous memories, and came away knowing each a little better. I love them both dearly, and without them, my time in Shanghai wouldn’t have come even half as close to the marvelous pack of escapades I remember. So, thank you Rachel and Kyle, and thank you God, for that grand new chapter in my Chinese epic. I won’t ever forget it. 

(P.S. Also, thank you, Stenson and Wynston, for making my second day in Shanghai the most hilarious of my life!)

(P.P.S. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, I met some family friends of my cousins while I was in Shanghai, and I thought it fair to give them a shout out. I know that this little blog isn't exactly Facebook, but I couldn't resist)

Year of the Dragon

I am a terrible blogger. I’ll just say it like it is.

It’s been a month and nine… check that, ten days since my last post…

Wow. Sorry about that.

I guess it just goes to show how busy things can get. Goodness, how many stories I have to tell. Stories of date-orchards and Japanese hippie drum circles… home-made Christmas decorations and Hong Kong bus tours…  Shanghai shoe-designers and sausage-making… of purple dumplings… of my youngest brother’s current lack of clothes.

(Yes, he is, at this moment, running around the house. Naked.)

Some of you who have siblings are probably used to this display of otherwise unseemly behavior, but I view the practice as… well… let’s just say I still have a mild heart attack whenever the villainous child kicks open my door and stands there utterly unclothed. Which he does quite… often.

Anyway.

The stories I have to tell are numerous and full of most-likely unnecessary detail… too many to fit into the posts of an obscure Google blog. It’s strange, sitting here and typing away, as if I had any hope of being able to relay to you my adventures and misadventures… if only I had a movie camera in my brain… what a cinematic experience I could create!

But the truth is, I haven’t been creating the experience… I can honestly say that no happening, since the beginning of this grand chapter in my life, has been self-stimulated. I can only (and gladly will) give credit to Him for all the insane and wonderful occurrences that make life here as sweet, strange, and extraordinary as it is.

Another year has come and gone, and I can honestly say that each year of my life thus far has been better than the last. And 2012, the Year of the Dragon, seems to glimmer ahead of me as brightly, if not more so, than 2011 did. So much to do within the next five months of my time in Beijing, an already I’m feeling the creeping sense of impending end. How can this be? I’m not even quite halfway, yet!

Either way, without further overblown ado, I give you December.

December existed purely as a blur for me…

Most of the first half of the month consisted purely of Chinese Christmas songs… songs which all of the kindergarteners would sing for a host of enthusiastic parents as part of the Annual Kindergarten Christmas Performance. I found myself thoroughly involved in correcting the pronunciation of “jingle” and “bells,” while busily encouraging the youngest students not to leap off the makeshift stage at the first sight of Daddy (or as we say, Baba) with a camcorder. Altogether, the kindergarten’s Christmas performance was a success and truly a cherished memory for me, as it allowed me to grow and strengthen my relationships with some of the other teachers.

The other teachers who work at the kindergarten… describing them…where to begin? One thing I can say is that I deeply admire them all… No, more than that… I can honestly say that I have never met a group of people so soulfully beautiful and fearless in their love of other people, especially the children they are entrusted with day after day. The beauty of their hearts, and Christ’s presence therein, is evident in everything they do. These teachers and their lives have changed and spoken to my soul.

And I can’t even understand their language. That’s amazing in and of itself… that, for the first time, I have actually seen actions speak much louder than words. Something that we, in the Western world, could all learn a little more about, I think.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. There’s a power moving here. A power moving in the lives and hearts of the people, and whether you believe in God or not, no one can deny that China is on the brink. I’m not sure of what brink exactly, but, then again, who am I to know? I’m just glad to be here, feeling the ground shudder with the intensity of it all.

            With that said, I’m so thankful that I’ve had the chance to travel a bit, and actually see this amazing country in action. Hong Kong, Shenzhen, and Shanghai were my three December destinations. The first, to meet my parents for Christmas, the second, to visit my also-travelling Chinese family, and the latter, for a week-long adventure with my cousins, Kyle and Rachel.

            I made my way to Hong Kong via train. An overnight train ride from Beijing… quite the experience! If you enjoy small spaces, the smell of insti-noodle, a lack of privacy, secondhand-smoking, Chinese opera, and enthusiastic, small monke- I mean, children, then I definitely recommend the ride!

Actually, in all honesty, I’d have to say that I truly enjoyed the experience… it was fun to be with my Chinese family, to see the countryside, to get a feel for real China, untainted by the comforts of city life or the internet. It was just me, my little bunk, and the constant chug, chug, chug of train engine as the tracks led us around rice-paddies, through villages, over rivers… all the while, the sounds of my brothers leaping precariously from bunk to bunk above me, and the smell of instant-noodle and cigarette smoke adding character to the air.

When we reached Hong Kong station, I reunited with my Daddy-o, and waved farewell to my Chinese fam, who’d be spending their holiday in Schenzhen, Hong Kong’s neighbor. (Thanks to the one-child policy, my brothers aren’t citizens, and therefore cannot be allowed off mainland China).

Dad and I made our way to the hotel in downtown Kowloon, right across the bay from Hong Kong island. While still a part of China, Hong Kong seems a world fully a part. With a largely foreign population, an insane economy, historical British influence, not to mention freedom, Hong Kong definitely stands apart. The islands’ mountains, ocean, and crowded city skyline seemed somehow to all fit together without any hint of incongruity; the tropical air, endless malls, shining buildings, palm trees and island ferries all seemed to somehow flow together in one grand sweep of bustling city. (Some of you may remember a scene in The Dark Knight where Christian Bale takes a theatrical dive off a huge, blue-lit building and swoops around like… well, a bat? Well, fun fact: the featured building happens to be the highest tower in Hong Kong!)

It was wonderful to spend time with my family, touring the city together, taking every chance we could to soak up all the familial love we had to offer… which was considerable. I seriously adore my parents.

Christmas finally came and…

…to be continued. It's 1 am, and I have some kindergarteners to teach in roughly 7 hours… wouldn’t do to fall asleep mid-lesson… but, stay tuned; like I said, “to be continued.” Love from Beijing… 

I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas... Just like the Ones I NEVER KNEW....

I've had, I think, two white Christmases in my lifetime, tops.

Well, MAKE THAT THREE!

I woke up today to SNOW, and I'm so excited I can barely stand it!

The picture is terrible quality, but if you look closely... you'll see that telltale glorious shade of white dusting the tops of everything! I hope you're subconsciously singing "Jingle Bells..."

Because God is freaking AWESOME.

I woke up at about three this morning (jet lag is a cruel, cruel malady) completely and utterly defeated and depressed. I missed New York. I missed my parents. It was cold, dark, stinky, bla bla bla. You know the rest.  

So, what did I do in that time of trouble? 

I checked my e-mail, naturally. 

Well... at least, that's what I thought I was going to do. 

Turns out God had other plans in mind. 

Anyway, there I was, sniffling away in the dark, thinking to myself how lonely I was, etc, etc, etc. basically I was drowning in my own poisonous self-pity... not really the wisest, smartest, or the most mature way to handle the valleys of life. But, ignoring my better judgment, I decided to check my e-mail, somehow thinking that would cheer me up. I picked up my iPod (some kids sleep with teddy-bears... I sleep with my iPod...) and started tapping away. Coincidentally (or not, depending on whether or not you'd consider this a miracle) my finger misses the "Mail" app and lands on the "Bible" app. A verse from Isaiah fills the screen:

   "I will always show you where to go.

     I will give you a full life in the empitiest of places."

My mind is blown. Why is it that God loves us so much, that he would think to speak to us like that? The verse was something so small... yet it completely took away all my fear, all the dark feelings roiling around inside. It was so precious, so powerful. He doesn't need to love us that way, yet He loves us fully and completely, with wild abandon. 

We live in a magical world; our lives are fairy-tales. Whether you happen to go to an ocean-view school, live in a high-rise flat, a pink flamingo double wide, or a dusty Chinese apartment, life will never cease to be an adventure. You just have to be looking in the right places in order to see it. 

Missing Home

There is something extremely disheartening about coming home from a long journey to find mold growing in the corners of your bedroom. It’s even more disheartening to come home and realize that whatever course of action you might have previously taken to remove the stuff is now obsolete due to the equally disheartening realization that you can’t speak a word of Chinese.

No one told me living in China would be easy.

I understand that now.

Well, I’ve always understood that… but this is the first time I’ve felt actually defeated by the fact.

I guess the jet-lag and my own intrinsic drama-queen don’t help me much when it comes to coping, but the point is, when I got home from my Thanksgiving trip… all hell broke loose, and I haven’t been able to stop crying since.

I know this post is long overdue, and I’m sorry that I have to start it off so miserably. But I guess that I wouldn’t be writing honestly if I didn’t throw a few “THIS-IS-THE-LAST-HELICOPTER-OUT-OF-VEITNAM-AND-I’M-NOT-ON-IT!” posts in there.

The hardest thing about being so far away is missing the love that comes with having parents like mine. I even miss having them be angry with me. It’s very hard for me to live in a place where differences in culture are so extreme that a deep and meaningful friendship with anyone feels almost impossible. It’s hard not to know that when I come home at the end of the day, my father and mother wont be there to just… be family with me. No deep conversations, no true understanding of one another, no real laughter, no hugs, none of the familiar smells or faces. For a girl whose had that and more for the entirety of her life, suddenly being thrust into a world like Beijing is very hard, and I can’t write about it without tearing up a little. Missing my mother and father’s love is definitely difficult. Especially with Christmas on the way.

Yesterday I returned from a week-long vacation in the states. I spent part of the time in Florida for a cousin’s wedding (I will relate all in detail in another post sometime) and the rest of the time in New York City with my parents. Jazz music, the brisk air, the energy, the lights, the colors, the general spirit of creativity. Hugging my mother and drinking in the familiar smell, hugging my father and actually feeling well and truly safe for the first time in over 2 months. Walking hand in hand, our winter coats, family meals, being clean (Yes, even the air of New York City tastes better and clearer than the air of my bedroom here) laughing with them about something that was genuinely funny, our conversations...

Just being a family.

It was wonderful and beautiful and I miss it terribly.

That’s not to say I couldn’t have some of that here with my Chinese family. Not at all! I can connect with them and laugh with them and share my thoughts. But it is so very, very different. Whereas spending time with my real parents is an act of rest, spending time with my family here is an act that requires strength and patience and a truly open heart. None of which I feel very much of currently.

But I know that will change. I know God will show up for me in ways that I can’t begin to imagine. I know that each moment I spend here, my heart and mind and soul get stronger. I know that this is an opportunity of a lifetime, that I am on an adventure that some people would kill for, and I am deeply thankful. Truly, I am. I know that there are hard times, but I also know that God is God. That God is Love. That resting in him brings peace and understanding. I know He’s not going to let go of me… He wont let go whether I happen to merely be going through some homesickness, as I am currently, or if I suddenly find myself hiding in a bomb shelter. He’s always here, and his Love is the most important thing about my life. I trust in that. I have to. 

The Only Good Mosquito... is a DEAD MOSQUITO! Muahahahaha!

I'm not trying to gross you out! (Well, maybe just a little) Anyway, this is one of my many would-be vampiric attackers, which I so valiantly annihilated using a Swiffer mop. This is a life-size photo... I know... I wish I were exaggerating too... :)

Updates!

            Oh GOODness… Let me catch my breath!!!!!

            Has it been a busy week! Or rather… last two weeks… last three weeks…

            Needless to say, time blurs when you’re having fun.

            Anyway, Fall is in the air here in Beijing. Red and yellow have flushed the land, and the air is thick with… well... something is burning… and it’s not necessarily a comforting or pleasant smell, like the autumnal wood-smoke of home. Either way, I’m glad to be wearing scarves and coats and boots again.

            We are apparently at the end of “mosquito season,” although I refuse to believe it. However, I must say that one good result of such an abundance of the tiny monsters has bestowed upon me extraordinary skill in the production of mosquito wall art…. In other words, I have killed so many that the smudges on my walls (left by the miserable bugs’ corpses) have begun to look a bit like some abstract painting.

            Tonight my family and I had an impromptu dinner party. Helen (I will call my Chinese mother “Helen” for security purposes) invited her mother… a small, walnut-like woman with a happy face and very particular taste for sunflower seeds. My uncle’s family also joined us. I met my cousins, the 5-year-old Timothy, and the 6-month-old… ah, I’ve forgotten his name. It was long and Chinese... Well, one thing I do know about the child is that he was big. VERY big. Carrying him was more like carrying a sack of flour than a six-month-old human child.

            Dinner was a sumptuous affair… fish, “meat dragons,” steamed red and green peppers, bing (a type of pancake), date-and-rice porridge, and cold duck. Delicious!

            The evening ended violently.

            Don’t be alarmed. I shall explain.

            This is the account of the transpired events as translated to me by my sister, Diana. Prior to her explanation, I had been reeling underneath the weight of intense confusion… and the weight of three small, violently inclined children.

So, according to Diana, after dinner, my younger brothers, Mark  (7) and Eli (4) and my cousin, Tim (5) decided to establish a make-believe kingdom in the laundry-room. Mark immediately declared himself undisputed ruler and appointed the other two as his trusted generals.

            I, innocent and clueless, needed to hang some wet laundry from earlier in the day, so into the royal court I ambled. Sidestepping the three (who evidently had been busily plotting a war of some kind) I began the harmless task of hanging wet jeans and various sweatshirts on the clothesline. Before I had finished hanging the first pair of pants, the room was suddenly full of shouts and I was under heavy attack! Chaos! Violence!

Now, Chinese children learn kung-fu at a young age. And those little fists can be vicious. It was anarchy. Hair-pulling was involved. Mark bludgeoned me over the head with a large bottle of laundry detergent. I’m pretty sure someone even tried to stick a Lego up my nose. Thankfully, my sister, Diana, came to the rescue.

            She graciously explained to me afterwards that naturally, since I had entered their secret kingdom (the laundry-room…) I was, of course, nothing other than a spy and had to be dealt with. And for Mark, dealing with spies obviously meant death-by-mob-beating. Or severe-injury-by-three-miniature-kung-fu-masters.

Oh, siblings.

Just another new (and slighty life-threatening) world for me to explore.

Life otherwise has been fairly peaceful. Teaching continues to be a joy. While most of my friends probably have learned to drive and maybe even have cars of their own, I can say with great pride that I have recently obtained… wait for it… wait for it….

a bike!!

A real-life, squeaky-geared, rickety bike (in typical Chinese fashion) with a basket and everything!

But, honestly, it’s so nice to have a way to get out and go! I can now visit the market at any time, Kristin’s apartment is no longer an uncomfortable walking distance away… I can even fit in (sort of) with the locals, who seem to prefer a bike over almost any other mode of transportation.

We celebrated Kristin’s birthday on the 19th! We went all out… It involved a surprise breakfast, massages at a small, local spa, an extremely spicy mystery dinner… good times, good times. LOVE YOU KRISTIN!

I (along with my brothers) came down with a fever this weekend, but will be working again tomorrow morning, I think!

Kristin and I are busy this week planning for our up-and-coming trip to Japan! If you have any recommendations on things to do, places to go… please let us know!

As for home… Oh, I miss home so much!

But… not in a way that would diminish from the passion and love in my heart for this place. China has taught me so much, inspired me in ways I can’t yet describe in words. Faith, hope, love, family, friends… my whole world is suddenly bigger, and growing in size with every passing day! A strength rumbles in the ground here, and it shakes me to the core of everything I am… I’m humbled and awestruck and eager to see how the Story unfolds, and how, if there is any way, God could bring the same deep fervency with me home.

But acorns before oaks. I’m not going home for another 8 months. And frankly, I’m glad. There is so much more to explore... so many more ways to grow in strength and peace and joy, so many things to learn, so many places to see, so many people to know and love... before I go home.

But, all truth be told, my mind no longer has to stretch itself very far to convince me that this place…

China itself…

…could become home.