Ah, the wonders of the myriad of cheap merchandise that can only be obtained abroad. Shopping and vanity have consumed us for the last 48 hours, here in Hoi An, a beautiful riverside village that got its claim to fame for the thousands of tailors that line its quiet streets.
Hoi An captivated us from the moment we got off the bus. All of a sudden, it was warmer, more laid-back, more tropical ... more like the South East Asia of my dreams. Or ... Cancun? While we've been shocked at the number of tourists in every city that we've been to thus far, here it was really taken to the next level. But, I guess most places are touristy for good reason - they have something that people want to see. And frankly, delicious food, unbeatable climate, and droves of women who are willing to make you your own custom-tailored outfit ain't a bad combination. I can see why the tour groups linger.
As did we. The day of shopping began early yesterday morning, and didn't stop till late in the evening. For those of you who know me, you'll know that I'm not a very good shopper. In fact, I strongly dislike it most of the time. I'm way too overwhelmed by the amount of choices that I face, and, being unable to decide, nearly always come away empty-handed, dissatisfied, and suffering from buyer's remorse from whatever I did buy. My mother can attest to the number of times I have come back from Khol's, the Gap, Old Navy, or wherever moderately priced items are found, tried on my purchases again, and then driven back a day later and returned whatever it was that caught my fancy for five minutes in the fitting room. Add a little bit of heat to the mix, and you have a recipe for an exceptionally crabby me.
But, there was no time for crabbiness here! There were too many vendors cluttering the streets, and too many cute ensembles to be too worried about not coming away with some ounce of success, however trifling. My success seemed destined. By the time darkness fell, I had put down payments down for shorts, a tank top, sandals, and four summer dresses - all of which were going to be perfectly tailored for ME!
The shopping continued today. Only, having already spent a great deal of money and owing a great deal more, our "shopping" was more or less confined to the trying-on and re-fitting of that which had already been purchased. While I cannot say that I am absolutely satisfied with my purchases, I can also say that being completely satisfied just isn't in my nature. If they will never be perfect, I am okay with having made "very good" purchases.
Once all my items were collected, accounted for, and paid for (it was more of a task than you would imagine, revisiting tailor after tailor in streets lined with shops that are essentially identical ... thankfully, Jones has a wonderful memory and sense of direction, and was able to draw a map of where we thought all of our stores would be. Not many shopping excursions also involve cartography, she commented), we split ways to take care of some other business. I was in the market for some small gifts for people, and went, strangely enough, to the market. After having made my purchases, I was wandering around, taking in the sights of all the commotion and activity, when stopped by a lady asking me if I wanted a 1 dollar manicure. I asked if she could do pedicures instead, she said of course. Not being naive enough to know that this would not be without a catch, I followed her to her stall and was ready to stand my ground against the other things that I knew she would try to get me to buy.
Before I knew it, I was getting my lip threaded (I mean, she had a point - it isn't very beautiful to have hair on your upper lip ...). And then my eyebrows (Well, they could use a good tweezing, and it's nice to have someone else do it ...). And then -- my goodness! -- my whole face! As my eyes streamed with tears and my face turned numb with the pain of having every little peach fuzz ripped from my flesh, the lady slapped my thigh playfully and told me to stop being such a baby. "No pain, no beauty! Do you think it is beautiful to have hair all over your face? What will your boyfriend think?" (I don't know! What does Matthew think?! What if he just never told me that he finds my werewolvian hairiness revolting?!)
Then, I was told that I have "many pimples," and that my skin was "not good, not beautiful, like mine" and that I should let her fix. And so she proceeded to miraculously pop or remove every old pimple and blackhead on my face. At this point my self-esteem had pretty much hit rock-bottom, and so I justified this additional service to myself, thinking, that she could make me more beautiful. (She does have very nice skin, she must know.) This was a rather painful process, as you might imagine, but as my eyes welled with tears again, I was comforted -- her sister ran to her aid, seizing the opportunity to give me a foot massage. I tried to tell her, "No! No! Stop! I don't need a foot massage!" But each time she said, "Doesn't it feel good though?" Yes. Yes, you're right. It feels amazing. I can't say no. I surrender.
Yes, beauty is pain - but not as painful as walking away from my 1 dollar foot massage 18 dollars poorer. Oh, I am so weak-willed ... but at least I'll have painted toes, sculpted eye-brows, and a fuzz-free-face devoid of blackheads to go with my new dresses.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Noise Torture
I write to you from an overcrowded youth hostel with really loud Jack Johnson music playing 18 hours a day, and a steady stream of buzzed Austrailians constantly floating in and out of the lobby. It seems that I can't escape noise wherever I go, lately. I am currently longing for silence ... the next paragraphs will explain why.
Finally, we're on the move! I'm so grateful for this, especially after a slow start due to the yucky weather in Hanoi. We wanted to wait out the drizzle a couple days until we set out for Halong Bay, a gorgegous area off the coast known for all of its thousands rocky limestone peaks jutting out of the water. We were so ready to leave Hanoi (especially me, having been there nearly a week!), and we clamoured into a van filled with odd sorts of tourists. Jones and I had to sit together on the front seat, and I felt a bit like an excited kid who got to sit in the front seat of a semi-truck. It was interesting to watch the landscape fly past us, getting increasingly more rural. There were constant signs, though, that we were nowhere near being off the so-called "beaten track" - the entire tour bus stopped on the side of the road, all its participants having gotten out to snap photos of people working in the rice paddies, for instance. Sigh. Sometimes being a tourist is highly embarassing.
When we got to Halong Bay - which I later heard someone refer to as the "Wisconsin Dells of Vietnam" - we got aboard our lovely little house boat, which would take us around the bay for the next day. Dells or not, it was a beautiful setting, and I really enjoyed the trip. We had a good time talking to our fellow passengers - the newlyweds from Israel, the intellectual brother and sister from Germany who were enjoying the surplus of vacation time that Europeans are privy to, the grad students from Austrailia ... The afternoon passed lazily, and we layed on top of the deck enjoying the first sunshine of the trip. However, the most memorable part of the excursion was most definitely the post-dinner entertainment. As we all sat around enjoying good conversation with the Germans (the man was just about to start a job working for Google), we were interrupted by our squirrely guide, who suggested that now it was time to start karaoke. But, I don't want to do karaoke ... I want to continue talking about the German health care system. Unfortunately, no one asked me - or anyone else on board, for that matter - and we were then subjected to a full two and a half hours of what could actually be considered noise torture. Within 15 minutes, the party had effectively been killed, with all its members having disappeared into their cabins to seek solace from the unbearable skreeching coming from the 1980's sound system. Within 20 minutes, I was ready to volunteer any amount of information pertaining to national security to make it stop, disclosing all of America's secrets to absolutely anyone who wanted to know.
Finally, it did stop (the two crew members who had been enjoying their favorite Vietnamese hits must have finally decided to call it a night), and I had a decent night's sleep, gearing up for our next day's stop, Cat Ba Island. Cat Ba Island is a really scenic spot, and we had a couple hours to make a hike up one of its hills prior to lunch. There was really no warning that this would be a rather strenuous hike, and I was frankly quite grateful that I'm in at least decent shape, or I really would have been out of luck. It was hard, and back home it never would have flown to just let any ole person hike up all that way, without any sort of nod to the fact that they could slip on the mud and fracture valuable appendages. (Something that I have learned is that in Asia, everything must be undertaken "at your own risk.") Me and my trusty Tevas made it through the trek, but I've definitely done easier things in my life.
In the afternoon, Jones and I decided it would be worth our while to take a short boat trip out to the nearby Monkey Island, a deserted place with (get this) lots of monkeys living there. (The eccentric older Israeli in our group was disappointed with this, saying that he would have rather gone to "Woman Island. I want an island filled with women, not monkeys." Our tour guide was confused.) At this point in my travels, monkeys have very little power to captivate me for more than 20 seconds, and I mostly dislike them actually, finding them to be disgusting, flea-bitten little creatures. So, we lazed away on some rocks near the shore, reading. Until we realized that the boat was pulling away. And that we were not on it. We had to quickly hustle down the beach, and found that our Israeli friend had also been left behind. The boat had to turn around and get us all. Whoops. I wouldn't have liked to be left on Monkey Island for a night! That sounds like a bad horror movie.
From Halong Bay, we had to make it back to Hanoi, from where we had to board an overnight, sleeper bus that took us to our current location. This was an experience worthy of its own blog post, but I'll summarize it by saying this: Imagine the Knight Bus of Harry Potter, and take away any and all romantic elements within. Imagine instead a regular-sized bus, with three rows of bunk beds stacked two high, and about ten beds per row. Imagine that the beds are about 30 inches across, and that they don't lay back completely, so as to make room for whose-ever feet are behind you. Your own feet fit into a small cubicle, which isn't tall enough for your feet to fit in straight up and down (even if your feet are only a women's size 8, at the most...). Imagine that even if you're only 5'4", you don't have enough space to lay completely back without scrunching up your legs. And then imagine that you are laying directly next to two other strangers, having been shoved in the back of the bus and escorted to your crappy seat, because you're just a crappy foreigner. To top it off, try and hear the painfully loud dialogue of shockingly awful local movies, alternating with equally loud mariachi music that turns on and off in conjunction with the blindingly bright lights at sporadic intervals throughout the middle of the night and harshly wake you from your slumber - if that's what you can call whatever semi-conscious state you're in. If you can picture this, you can picture my situation.
There's little that I won't do for cheap transportation, but this might be one of those things that won't be eagerly revisited.
Well, I should go. I actually have to go catch a bus ... Hopefully they'll play good music on it.
Finally, we're on the move! I'm so grateful for this, especially after a slow start due to the yucky weather in Hanoi. We wanted to wait out the drizzle a couple days until we set out for Halong Bay, a gorgegous area off the coast known for all of its thousands rocky limestone peaks jutting out of the water. We were so ready to leave Hanoi (especially me, having been there nearly a week!), and we clamoured into a van filled with odd sorts of tourists. Jones and I had to sit together on the front seat, and I felt a bit like an excited kid who got to sit in the front seat of a semi-truck. It was interesting to watch the landscape fly past us, getting increasingly more rural. There were constant signs, though, that we were nowhere near being off the so-called "beaten track" - the entire tour bus stopped on the side of the road, all its participants having gotten out to snap photos of people working in the rice paddies, for instance. Sigh. Sometimes being a tourist is highly embarassing.
When we got to Halong Bay - which I later heard someone refer to as the "Wisconsin Dells of Vietnam" - we got aboard our lovely little house boat, which would take us around the bay for the next day. Dells or not, it was a beautiful setting, and I really enjoyed the trip. We had a good time talking to our fellow passengers - the newlyweds from Israel, the intellectual brother and sister from Germany who were enjoying the surplus of vacation time that Europeans are privy to, the grad students from Austrailia ... The afternoon passed lazily, and we layed on top of the deck enjoying the first sunshine of the trip. However, the most memorable part of the excursion was most definitely the post-dinner entertainment. As we all sat around enjoying good conversation with the Germans (the man was just about to start a job working for Google), we were interrupted by our squirrely guide, who suggested that now it was time to start karaoke. But, I don't want to do karaoke ... I want to continue talking about the German health care system. Unfortunately, no one asked me - or anyone else on board, for that matter - and we were then subjected to a full two and a half hours of what could actually be considered noise torture. Within 15 minutes, the party had effectively been killed, with all its members having disappeared into their cabins to seek solace from the unbearable skreeching coming from the 1980's sound system. Within 20 minutes, I was ready to volunteer any amount of information pertaining to national security to make it stop, disclosing all of America's secrets to absolutely anyone who wanted to know.
Finally, it did stop (the two crew members who had been enjoying their favorite Vietnamese hits must have finally decided to call it a night), and I had a decent night's sleep, gearing up for our next day's stop, Cat Ba Island. Cat Ba Island is a really scenic spot, and we had a couple hours to make a hike up one of its hills prior to lunch. There was really no warning that this would be a rather strenuous hike, and I was frankly quite grateful that I'm in at least decent shape, or I really would have been out of luck. It was hard, and back home it never would have flown to just let any ole person hike up all that way, without any sort of nod to the fact that they could slip on the mud and fracture valuable appendages. (Something that I have learned is that in Asia, everything must be undertaken "at your own risk.") Me and my trusty Tevas made it through the trek, but I've definitely done easier things in my life.
In the afternoon, Jones and I decided it would be worth our while to take a short boat trip out to the nearby Monkey Island, a deserted place with (get this) lots of monkeys living there. (The eccentric older Israeli in our group was disappointed with this, saying that he would have rather gone to "Woman Island. I want an island filled with women, not monkeys." Our tour guide was confused.) At this point in my travels, monkeys have very little power to captivate me for more than 20 seconds, and I mostly dislike them actually, finding them to be disgusting, flea-bitten little creatures. So, we lazed away on some rocks near the shore, reading. Until we realized that the boat was pulling away. And that we were not on it. We had to quickly hustle down the beach, and found that our Israeli friend had also been left behind. The boat had to turn around and get us all. Whoops. I wouldn't have liked to be left on Monkey Island for a night! That sounds like a bad horror movie.
From Halong Bay, we had to make it back to Hanoi, from where we had to board an overnight, sleeper bus that took us to our current location. This was an experience worthy of its own blog post, but I'll summarize it by saying this: Imagine the Knight Bus of Harry Potter, and take away any and all romantic elements within. Imagine instead a regular-sized bus, with three rows of bunk beds stacked two high, and about ten beds per row. Imagine that the beds are about 30 inches across, and that they don't lay back completely, so as to make room for whose-ever feet are behind you. Your own feet fit into a small cubicle, which isn't tall enough for your feet to fit in straight up and down (even if your feet are only a women's size 8, at the most...). Imagine that even if you're only 5'4", you don't have enough space to lay completely back without scrunching up your legs. And then imagine that you are laying directly next to two other strangers, having been shoved in the back of the bus and escorted to your crappy seat, because you're just a crappy foreigner. To top it off, try and hear the painfully loud dialogue of shockingly awful local movies, alternating with equally loud mariachi music that turns on and off in conjunction with the blindingly bright lights at sporadic intervals throughout the middle of the night and harshly wake you from your slumber - if that's what you can call whatever semi-conscious state you're in. If you can picture this, you can picture my situation.
There's little that I won't do for cheap transportation, but this might be one of those things that won't be eagerly revisited.
Well, I should go. I actually have to go catch a bus ... Hopefully they'll play good music on it.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Rainy Days and Museums
After spending a few days loping around Hanoi all by my lonesome (surviving a fun day and a half bout of food-poisoning ... guess no trip is complete without it ...) Jones finally arrived this morning! We were pleased that the whole exchange of meeting in a foreign country went off without a hitch, but I'm sure our mothers were even more pleased, given our reputations as being slightly, uh, shall we say, scatter-brained? :)
So. Vietnam. The tour begins in earnest! We were excited for our first stop on the "Banana Pancake Trail" (so named because of the spattering of Western establishments serving up the old-standby to hungry, hungry hippies roaming South East Asia back in the day), but weren't quite ... exactly ... sure what to do here. Another traveling companion who was to accompany us on the journey actually planned out this leg, but decided not to join us for it. Hm. We'll call this a bit of a pickle, seeing as neither Jones or I really did our research on how to get around Vietnam, devoting ourselves instead to planning our respective countries or getting massages or whatever the heck else we did to fill our time in China.
Luckily, the weather kind of determined our day for us. It was a yucky, cold rain all (um, thought I left monsoon behind me?!), so we decided to hit a bunch of the museums after breakfast. Our first stop was the History Museum. In my opinion, if you've seen one, you've seen ... most of them. There aren't very many museums of generic history that could entertain me for very long. Ahhh, potsherds. Ohhhh, a spoon from 10,000 BC. Meh. It had the advantage of keeping us dry for 20 minutes longer than we would have otherwise been.
After a lunch at a delightful little cafe - Hanoi is loaded with them, I guess the French were good for something? - we headed to the Hao Lo Prison Museum, which was actually pretty fascinating. Originally built by the French and used to detain Vietnamese reactionaries in incredibly inhumane conditions, it was eventually used by the North Vietnamese to detain American POW's during the war, including John McCain. While we had heard that McCain was tortured so severely there that he tried to commit suicide twice, the videos in the museum showed American soldiers having barbeques, playing volleyball, and "learning to appreciate the generosity of the North Vietnamese, which they had not understood before." Putting America's own record in Vietnam completely aside, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that anyone who is tortured so severely they try to kill themselves is probably not enjoying these aforementioned barbeques and humane conditions. The same video that proclaimed the generosity of the NV captors also celebrated the "vanquishing of the evil American imperialists," so it was pretty hard to believe in its neutrality with such loaded language. After some further research into the matter, it appears as though there was some serious propaganda going on; the conditions were, in fact, awful. Naturally, no one's going to lay claim to that. Of course, every country has propaganda, and no one has a squeaky-clean past, but it was a little disturbing to see it displayed so ... blatantly.
Our final museum stop of the day was the Hanoi Women's Museum, which had two exhibits: One show-casing all the bravery of women who stood up for the Communist party during the war and even gave their lives for the cause, and one displaying photos, videos, and stories of the street vendors in Hanoi. This one was more compelling to me, given the fact that I see these ladies everywhere. Apparently, these are women who cannot make enough money farming their land in the countryside, and thus have to come to urban areas to try and make enough to feed their families. They sell vegetables, baked things, plastic wares, straw mats, flowers, whatever. A couple years ago, the local government tried to prohibit such activity, as it some claim that it is disruptive to the development of the city. It was heartbreaking to hear their stories of their struggles: up at 3am everyday, only to stay out, walking around with heavy carts or baskets, until nightfall. All this for a couple USD a month?
It's times that like when I just feel like an incredible snot; I'm so lucky that I not only have food, shelter, clothing - basic things that others work so hard for - but I have so, so much beyond that. How many people in the world can just nonchalantly buy a plane ticket to another country, travel frivolously, and eat bruschetta just 'cuz they feel like it?
Ah, the cards we're dealt aren't fair, so I'm just going to feel a bit extra thankful tonight. Thanks for reading; I'm glad I could share my day with you!
Oh PS, Jones and I ate dinner with a guy from WHERE tonight?! Yep, Madison, WI. It's a small world after all. : ) Go Badgers!
So. Vietnam. The tour begins in earnest! We were excited for our first stop on the "Banana Pancake Trail" (so named because of the spattering of Western establishments serving up the old-standby to hungry, hungry hippies roaming South East Asia back in the day), but weren't quite ... exactly ... sure what to do here. Another traveling companion who was to accompany us on the journey actually planned out this leg, but decided not to join us for it. Hm. We'll call this a bit of a pickle, seeing as neither Jones or I really did our research on how to get around Vietnam, devoting ourselves instead to planning our respective countries or getting massages or whatever the heck else we did to fill our time in China.
Luckily, the weather kind of determined our day for us. It was a yucky, cold rain all (um, thought I left monsoon behind me?!), so we decided to hit a bunch of the museums after breakfast. Our first stop was the History Museum. In my opinion, if you've seen one, you've seen ... most of them. There aren't very many museums of generic history that could entertain me for very long. Ahhh, potsherds. Ohhhh, a spoon from 10,000 BC. Meh. It had the advantage of keeping us dry for 20 minutes longer than we would have otherwise been.
After a lunch at a delightful little cafe - Hanoi is loaded with them, I guess the French were good for something? - we headed to the Hao Lo Prison Museum, which was actually pretty fascinating. Originally built by the French and used to detain Vietnamese reactionaries in incredibly inhumane conditions, it was eventually used by the North Vietnamese to detain American POW's during the war, including John McCain. While we had heard that McCain was tortured so severely there that he tried to commit suicide twice, the videos in the museum showed American soldiers having barbeques, playing volleyball, and "learning to appreciate the generosity of the North Vietnamese, which they had not understood before." Putting America's own record in Vietnam completely aside, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that anyone who is tortured so severely they try to kill themselves is probably not enjoying these aforementioned barbeques and humane conditions. The same video that proclaimed the generosity of the NV captors also celebrated the "vanquishing of the evil American imperialists," so it was pretty hard to believe in its neutrality with such loaded language. After some further research into the matter, it appears as though there was some serious propaganda going on; the conditions were, in fact, awful. Naturally, no one's going to lay claim to that. Of course, every country has propaganda, and no one has a squeaky-clean past, but it was a little disturbing to see it displayed so ... blatantly.
Our final museum stop of the day was the Hanoi Women's Museum, which had two exhibits: One show-casing all the bravery of women who stood up for the Communist party during the war and even gave their lives for the cause, and one displaying photos, videos, and stories of the street vendors in Hanoi. This one was more compelling to me, given the fact that I see these ladies everywhere. Apparently, these are women who cannot make enough money farming their land in the countryside, and thus have to come to urban areas to try and make enough to feed their families. They sell vegetables, baked things, plastic wares, straw mats, flowers, whatever. A couple years ago, the local government tried to prohibit such activity, as it some claim that it is disruptive to the development of the city. It was heartbreaking to hear their stories of their struggles: up at 3am everyday, only to stay out, walking around with heavy carts or baskets, until nightfall. All this for a couple USD a month?
It's times that like when I just feel like an incredible snot; I'm so lucky that I not only have food, shelter, clothing - basic things that others work so hard for - but I have so, so much beyond that. How many people in the world can just nonchalantly buy a plane ticket to another country, travel frivolously, and eat bruschetta just 'cuz they feel like it?
Ah, the cards we're dealt aren't fair, so I'm just going to feel a bit extra thankful tonight. Thanks for reading; I'm glad I could share my day with you!
Oh PS, Jones and I ate dinner with a guy from WHERE tonight?! Yep, Madison, WI. It's a small world after all. : ) Go Badgers!
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
I DO Have Friends, Honest ...
I did it! I survived my first solo travel experience! A plane, a train, two hostels ... For experienced wanderers, this is probably nothing to get too excited about, but having not gone too many places on my own, especially places outside of China, I'm pretty pleased.
Now I just have to stop feeling like a kid at camp. I'm staying at this giant, crowded hostel in Hanoi, and I feel like a total loser.
For one thing, since I got in yesterday morning, I haven't ventured out further than a half-mile radius around my home-base. Truly, this is because it wasn't my goal to come here and see all sorts of things. It was my goal to spend these free days waiting for my friends to come by planning my section of the trip and catching up on things that I've left unattended for awhile. I've done pretty good on both accounts, but I feel self-conscious from sitting at the computer for so long ...
Further, my room yesterday was filled with seven-ish girls from Melbourne who all knew each other and had traveled different sections of their trip together. The host of the hostel noticed me sitting by myself, eating some breakfast and waiting to check in. He was asking me about room preferences and said, "Well, there's a group of girls that all just got in too. They seem pretty cool. It's probably time to start making friends, right??" Ugh. You could tell already that I'm the antisocial type? The girl whose counselor tries to convince her that it will be fun to meet new people?
I've told myself that I'm not actually this shy. I think if I weren't waiting for my friends to come, my mindset would be a lot different and I would probably take more initiative in meeting and mingling with people, and it would probably be a really good experience. But that's for another time.
I did have a more positive meeting-people-experience yesterday. I was sitting at a cafe, working on planning some stuff for Thailand, and a man at another table asked me where I was from. I told him, and it eventually came up that I'd just been in China for awhile. He started speaking to me in Chinese, which was fun, as I thought I wouldn't get to speak it again for ages. Then a girl sitting nearby overheard, and joined in the conversation in Chinese as well. She was about my age, had majored in Chinese, and had studied in China for two years. We chatted a bit, and she was really sweet.
Well, I should probably get off the computer. Not because I have so many cool things to see and do, but because I can't handle the host walking past again and seeing me here ... still ...
Now I just have to stop feeling like a kid at camp. I'm staying at this giant, crowded hostel in Hanoi, and I feel like a total loser.
For one thing, since I got in yesterday morning, I haven't ventured out further than a half-mile radius around my home-base. Truly, this is because it wasn't my goal to come here and see all sorts of things. It was my goal to spend these free days waiting for my friends to come by planning my section of the trip and catching up on things that I've left unattended for awhile. I've done pretty good on both accounts, but I feel self-conscious from sitting at the computer for so long ...
Further, my room yesterday was filled with seven-ish girls from Melbourne who all knew each other and had traveled different sections of their trip together. The host of the hostel noticed me sitting by myself, eating some breakfast and waiting to check in. He was asking me about room preferences and said, "Well, there's a group of girls that all just got in too. They seem pretty cool. It's probably time to start making friends, right??" Ugh. You could tell already that I'm the antisocial type? The girl whose counselor tries to convince her that it will be fun to meet new people?
I've told myself that I'm not actually this shy. I think if I weren't waiting for my friends to come, my mindset would be a lot different and I would probably take more initiative in meeting and mingling with people, and it would probably be a really good experience. But that's for another time.
I did have a more positive meeting-people-experience yesterday. I was sitting at a cafe, working on planning some stuff for Thailand, and a man at another table asked me where I was from. I told him, and it eventually came up that I'd just been in China for awhile. He started speaking to me in Chinese, which was fun, as I thought I wouldn't get to speak it again for ages. Then a girl sitting nearby overheard, and joined in the conversation in Chinese as well. She was about my age, had majored in Chinese, and had studied in China for two years. We chatted a bit, and she was really sweet.
Well, I should probably get off the computer. Not because I have so many cool things to see and do, but because I can't handle the host walking past again and seeing me here ... still ...
Sunday, January 17, 2010
All the Info You Need, All In One Convenient Post!
From Thanksgiving to New Year's, All in One Post!
Why waste your valuable time reading through multiple posts about the mundane affairs of my daily life, when you could read just one post about everything that's happened to me in the last two months in just one easy-to-read entry!? Now, for a limited time only, you can! For you, valued reader, this is a FREE* service! So act quickly, read TODAY!
You see, it's really all for your convenience that I haven't written in ages. I wanted to do one giant update, to save you the hassle of needlessly clicking on links ...
Actually, that's all a lie, and the truth is that I just suck at doing anything consistently, so my apologies if you have in fact been waiting for an entry since Thanksgiving. But it's a new year, and with a new year comes the opportunity to make positive changes. Or, more aptly, the opportunity to go on making the same mistakes over and over again. But, we keep trying, so here goes.
I find myself already in the third week of a new year, asking myself where the time has gone, and how things seem to have come full-circle so quickly. The final weeks of 2009 were filled with a lot of the good kind of busy-ness (such as Christmas parties, end-of-semester parties, planning for my fast-approaching tour de South East Asia, and getting ready to welcome a pile of American visitors) and some of the bad kind of busy-ness (such as dealing with the aftermath of a lost debit card with the most incompentent bank in the world, writing final exams, figuring out exit and entry visa requirements and dates to any number of foreign countries, and beginning the process of packing up and moving out of Wuxi).
Before I even had time to realize it, I found myself on a bus headed for PuDong airport (at an almost imperceptible and insanity-inducing crawl, due to incredible traffic), and finally reached the International Arrivals terminal to greet my travel-weary family and boyfriend. Thus commenced over a week of good old-fashioned Chinese fun! It was a wonderful blessing to be able to share my love for China with my loved ones. We were able to accomplish some of the "mandatory" things: We walked through People's Square in Shanghai, we wandered the Old Town and the Yu Gardens, we traveled to the top-ish of the Shanghai World Financial Center for pricey drinks and what was supposed to be impressive views of the skyline ... Unfortunately, we didn't make it to the Bund, due to stupid construction. Really, Shanghai? You're just going to close down the Bund, the most recognizable landmark in the city? Thanks for nothin'. Then we traveled onto Tongli, a water village outside the city for a glimpse at the more rural side of China, all thanks to Hao and his family's insurmountable hospitality to us. Hao and his uncle drove us to Wuxi in our packed van, where my family had a chance to see a little bit of my daily life. We had a meal in "the vil" (where we accidentally consumed fried snake ... yum?), and they got to hang out in my apartment for awhile while I administered my students' final exam. That night was a highlight for me, as we were able to host a "wild" KTV party for my students. I think it was as fun for my students to meet a whole posse of laowai as it was for my visitors to see Chinese students take charge of the microphone and belt out their pop favorites. From Wuxi, we took the most luxurious train that I will ever take (the D soft sleeper!) to Beijing, where we met with a family friend, Tony, for a day of local treats and good eats. The highlight of Beijing was of course the Wall, which doesn't fail to disapoint, even the second time around. After a few chilly days in the North, our trip had us end up back in Shanghai, with just enough time for naps, some Western food, and some seriously strategic packing.
And then they were gone! And I was all alone for the first time in over a week, and it was snowing in Shanghai, and I had to find the Vietnamese consulate. It was a long day ...
When I found myself back in Wuxi for the final time, I had just a couple days to do a final run-through of my apartment and play "To Pack or Not to Pack." I also had the thrilling opportunity of adminstering exit exams for EFL students, which was certainly the time of my life (or not). Two days of listening and reading the same answers over and over ... In case you're interested, their favorite move is Titantic, their favorite movie star is Bruce Lee, and Shanghai is the place that they would most like to visit in the whole world. Apparently, this is true for about 90% of the EFL students at Lambton, or so says our survey. All this excitement, AND a classroom with no heat?! Lucky us! Finally, my last full day in the Wu was spent in an absolutely mad, stressful dash of turning in grades, portfolios, and keys, and trying to get signatures and money from various people scattered around the administration buildings (oh yes, and breaking my friends ebike and lock. Sorry Carl ...). As Katrina aptly put it, "It's like a scavenger hunt." Yeah, a really unfun one. It's a little embarassing to admit, given the fact that my life isn't stressful or demanding at all, but after all that last-minute running around, I collapsed back in my apartment and felt the kind of relief that I felt after a week of exams or completed papers. It's funny how we adapt to whatever situation we're in, and have just enough strength for whatever the task may be, and no more.
On Friday morning, I found myself beginning my journey out of China. There were some more tears shed, and soon I was on a train, saying goodbye to Wuxi forever, probably. Even though I was only there for a short while, it left an impression on my life, and it will always be an important place to me. I'm incredibly thankful for the opportunity I had; I couldn't have asked for more in an extended stay in China. I spent a day an a half in Shanghai, spending some quality time with Hao and sharing one more sad goodbye before jetting off to Nanning in southern China, where I am currently writing this post from. Tonight, I will board my train bound for Hanoi and bid my zaijians to China (though hopefully not forever. After all, zaijian does literally mean "See you again!"). However excited I am for South East Asia, I can't help but feel bittersweet about this whole situation. I think I'll feel better once I hit the road in earnest and get rid of all this slow, painful process of goodbye.
Like the description of my blog says, "The Road goes ever on and on." So, I guess now my road is leading me out of one country that I love dearly, and into another fascinating region of the world. It can't be stopped, so I'm left to follow it eagerly. Here's to the beginning of a new journey! Thanks for accompanying me along the way; your support means more than you know.
*Though the writer would appreciate a donation to her travel fund. No? Alright, I'll survive. Thanks for reading. :)
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