IKEA BABY!!!

After completing yesterday’s blog post, I went out to dinner with a guy named Peter. We live right across the hall from each other up here on the fourth floor. He first came to SHSID three years ago. He taught for two years, and then spent last year at home doing some coursework. I had told him that we’d been having some problems ordering food at restaurants in the area, so he offered to take a group out, whoever wanted to go. In the end, however, it wound up just being him and me; every one else had already eaten or had fallen asleep. Apparently the jetlag is still an issue because people consistently pass out by like 8:30.

We walked out to the front gate of the campus, crossed the road and went to a place called “The English Menu Place.” I handed the reigns over to Peter for ordering, as he clearly has had more experience in this country than I. We started off with a cucumber and garlic salad (tastes like Cape Cod potato chips, or so I thought) and had peppered beef with vegetables for the main course. Both dishes were great. We also had Suntory, a popular and cheap Chinese beer, to drink.

During dinner we talked about his experiences at SHSID and what it was like to work with Helen (my new boss). It was awesome to get some first hand information about teaching and living in this area. He also taught me how to ask for the check, which the wait staff will not bring to you unless you ask them for it. The magic words are “mei dan” from what I remember.

When we returned to school, I checked to see if anyone was still awake, and when I found that no one was, I also decided to call it a night and retreated back to my room. It was still a little early to sleep, so I re-arranged a few things, spent some time out on the balcony, and then got into bed and read for a while. I think I wound up going to sleep around 10:30, and I awoke this morning at 8:00.

This morning was the designated (by me) “Ikea Day!” The plan was to leave at 9:00. The store opens at 10, but the Ikea in Shanghai is actually a tourist attraction, so the guidebook that I have suggested that you arrive when they open to beat the crowds. This was my first attempt at the solid plan with the group, and it failed miserably. We didn’t even start walking toward the front gate until about 10:15.

Some better things happened in that lost time, however. We met up with Brian W. and then walked back with him to the new building to find Nicole and Denis. By the time we found Denis and Nicole, the group had expanded even further and we set out on our way. We saw Dan on the way toward the front gate, and he asked if we could go to Helen’s office to finalize our contracts (read sign away our lives). What could we do but agree, so off to Helen’s office it was.

We spent an hour or so working with Helen on the contracts as she wanted to make everything very clear. It truly is a binding contract. Helen and the rest of SHSID now officially have me for the next ten moths. That is both exciting and a little intimidating…
Helen is a very nice woman, and kept emphasizing the fact that she and the rest of the administration and faculty at SHSID were here to support us and help us through the experience.

The group expanded even further as more and more new teachers trickled into the contract session. By the time we left we had a near pilgrimage: myself, Devon, Devon, Denis, Dennis, Nicole, Chris, Brian, Josh, John. We all decided to walk to the metro station instead of taking a cab. The walk covered new terrain, which was exiting, and I found the place that Peter told me about last night to buy a used (super cheap) bike, which I might do later today if I find the energy and confidence.

The metro stop near us is Shanghai South, and it is about a 20 minute walk at a quick clip. The station is absolutely massive. It has the metro rail, trains, and buses all departing from the same area. There were tons and tons of people, really long lines for the ticket booths, and very little English. There was just enough, however, for us to find our way.

I am beginning appreciate the sheer magnitude of this city. I had never seen a metro station like this one, but it did remind me a lot of the metro in DC. It is color and number coded, and the signs are in English and Chinese. The most difficult part was learning how to buy the tickets. I thought we were going to get the reloadable cards, but we could not find a vendor, only a single ticket machine. That worked well enough. It cost 3 kwai (that is what they call yuan in Shanghai, turns out).

The Ikea is at the same stop as the Shanghai Indoor Stadium complex, the location of some Olympic games (soccer was one of them I am most sure). It was really neat to see the complex, and made me think about how awe inspiring the complexes in Beijing must be in real life. I saw my first Starbucks, but I did not go in. The Ikea was about a five minute walk from the exit of the metro, and as we got closer my excitement continued to rise. Here are some pictures from the walk there. Note how dense the development is, and realize that this area is about nine metro stops south of center city Shanghai. This place is massive.



We didn’t get to Ikea until about 11:30, and it was packed. We spent too much time in the showroom and not enough time in the downstairs market. Lesson learned there. I bought a big lamp, two rugs for my bedroom/living room, three pillows, two coffee mugs, and some smell good potpourri since we can’t have candles. I am really happy with everything I got, and I only spent about $80. I still need sheets (that are not plaid) and some furniture for my balcony. All in due time.

By the end the whole group had been separated, and it was just me and Chris, who I took hostage by offering him some of my cart space. I had his stuff, so he had to stick with me. Muwahaha. We took a taxi back from Ikea. From my guide book I also learned that there are taxis that park right outside the exit, but they are most often not metered. I was also approached by many men in Ikea who, I think, were offering to drive me home or deliver my stuff. It was a bit sketchy. One even walked up to me and muttered the words, “I have car,” to which Chris and cracked up, said no (bu) politely, and kept walking. To get to the metered taxis, you have to go to floor “-1” which was a lower level parking garage. We hoped in the back, I showed the drive the address of the school in character, and hoped for the best. We made it back safe and sound, and I have already decorated my room with what I bought today.

Most notably was this lamp, which is meant to be shaped like a woman. They had a matching one shaped like a man. They cost the same amount. I'm glad to see that Ikea supports gender equality.

Our orientation begins tomorrow, and I was very pleased to find a detailed schedule for the next five days under my door after returning from the Ikea extravaganza. Tomorrow we have a health inspection, and then just general orientation type activities; setting up the internet, eating in the cafeteria, meeting administration, etc. It only goes until 4ish I think, so I might be able to venture out into the city center tomorrow evening. A few people from the group already have, but I have been sure to give my body the rest and recovery it needs from the plane and plenty of time to acclimate to this crazy country.

I'm really in China...!

So incredibly much has happened since my last post from the plane. Right now, I am writing from the balcony of my apartment, which looks over the campus lake and the main library and out onto the skyline of a modernizing and expanding city in the horizon. This all still feels so unreal. These are some pictures of the view from my balcony early this morning.



Upon landing in Shanghai, the group re-joined and then headed off to the customs and immigration battle. Much to my surprise and relief, the battle was not too difficult. I was most surprised when my two suitcases were among the first to come around the conveyor belt. I picked them up, and stood to the side, taking on the role of mother goose for everyone’s suitcases as they trickled in. Here is Hillary and her ridiculous amounts of stuff.



After exiting customs, we eagerly looked for the person who would take us to Shanghai High. All the way down a long line of people waiting for arrivals, I saw a little white piece of paper that said, “Shanghai High School International Division.” This is when we met “Dan.” Many of the people here, most especially those working with English speaking foreigners, morph their given Chinese name into a more memorable and pronounceable English name. For example, the man in charge of our apartment building is named “Larry” and I can guarantee that was not the name given him at birth.

Dan showed us, with a little trepidation, the way to the van, and we loaded up the luggage, and then crammed our bodies in the space left over. By the time we got on the road it was about 4pm Friday, so Shanghai traffic was at its best (read worst). It took who knows how long to get to the school, but we made it.

From the time that we began to approach land in the plane to the time we exited the highway for SHSID, I felt like we could have been in any western city. The traffic, the roads, the billboards, the landscape. In fact, I really felt like we had not left Atlanta at all. Once we exited the highway however, this feeling changed drastically. At one point I said, “Ok, now I don’t feel like I am in Atlanta anymore, in fact, I don’t even feel like I am in Chinatown.”

The area around our school seems to be laden with authenticity. Much to my surprise, almost no one within a square mile of the school speaks English, and if they do it is extremely limited. All signs are in Chinese. The vendors lining the streets do not sell souvenirs, but rather day to day supplies; magazines, sunglasses, socks, combs. The restaurants only have Chinese menus, and the waitresses only speak Chinese. There is a McDonalds and a Pizza Hut in the TrustMart (read Wal-Mart), but no one speaks English in there either, and McDonald’s serves chicken feet. This is the real deal, which will certainly enrich my experience here in China.

Dan and our driver dropped us off in front of our building, helped unload our luggage, told us our room numbers, and then left. It was the most simple “check in” process I have ever encountered. When I walked in, there was someone else from the program offering to help me with my bag. From all of my facebook work this summer, I recognized him and said, “Brian?” He nodded and said, “And you’re Rebecca.” “That I am.”

We walked up to the fourth floor (the building is five floors high, and Dennis lives directly above me) and found my room. I took a deep breath before opening the door. What I found behind was a little rough on the eyes at first, especially the weary eyes of a recently released Delta captive. The room was sparse and dusty, and much smaller than I had imagined it would be. I knew however, that with my dorm experience and Ikea at my fingertips, I would manage to turn the room into something really wonderful.

The group, which now includes two Devons and a Brian, headed out to find a bank to exchange money. The result of this quick transition was little preparation on the navigation front and a lot of unnecessary walking complimented by head scratching (the universal sign for confusion). I just went with the flow, and took in as much as I could of our new surroundings. We managed to find the bank . . . five minutes after they closed. After than unfortunate timing, it was on to TrustMart where we would (attempt to) find the first of our “necessary” items. At the very top of that list for me was a hair dryer.

TrustMart is the Chinese Wal-Mart. It is actually owned by Wal-Mart, but is only roughly similar. Standing three floors high, the first floor has a few places to eat, and then a bunch of boutique-like shops. The second floor is basically a condensed Wal-Mart, and has home good, electronics, clothing, etc. The third floor, and the very hidden location of the cash registers, is a supermarket. TrustMart has become our new friend as we continually find things that we need to make our stay here feel a little more like home.



We got lost for a second time on the way back to the school from TrustMart, and even (unknowingly) attempted to trespass on a neighboring gated school, which we mistook for our own. The guard at the gate was none too pleased as we attempted to explain to him in our incomprehensible Mandarin that we were teachers trying to get to our apartments. “Laoshi. Wo shi Laoshi.” (Teacher. I am teacher). We gave him identification, showed him a print out of the school address (but looking back, what did we think that would accomplish?) and then we finally threw our hands up and began walking in. This reasonably angered the guard, and so we retreated and took the long walk back to the main gate of the school, which was the only gate we really knew. On the way, we looked for places to have dinner after dropping off our TrustMart treasures. We settled on a place right outside of the front gate that had a picture of beer in the window. From that, one can clearly see the direction of our priorities.

After struggling to order food from a Chinese menu to a waitress speaking Chinese, we all waited in great anticipation to see what we actually ordered. We ended up with salty, cold tofu (not as bad as it sounds), peanut chicken, some sort of vegetable, and a beef dish. My favorite was the beef dish. The entire meal (which fed five people with food to spare) cost 101 yuan, or about $13. This included three huge beers. Not bad at all.

We returned to the dorms, almost too exhausted to make it up the stairs, and made tentative plans for the following day. Once alone in my room, my first priority was to arrange the furniture in a way suitable to my tastes, and to unpack both of my bags. I was also very excited to take a shower. Here are some pictures of the fruits of my labor.



Around 11:30, I called it quits and went to sleep in what will be my bed for the next year. I slept almost the whole night through, and awoke refreshed and ready to go at 6:00am. I didn’t quite know what to do, as I was sure that the others were not yet awake. I looked at my area map and the larger Shanghai map, packed up my bag, and walked out the door ready to follow wherever the wind might take me. I found a back gate the provided an excellent short cut in the pilgrimage to Trustmart. Once I got to TrustMart, I took a left and headed down the road. I walked for about two hours, from 7-9.

It was really amazing to see everyone beginning their day. Shops were in the process of opening, people stood waiting for the bus, children walked in uniform to school. I followed my map as best I could so I would not get lost on my first outing. I bought some orange juice (Minute Maid) at a little supermarket, which was wonderfully refreshing to have on my walk.



People here really like to stare. Especially in the area around the school, as it does not attract tourists. It is very rare to see a Westerner. In fact, in the two hours I spent roaming the streets, I never saw another expatriate. Perhaps, the others were simply not jacked up on jetlag, and were still happily asleep in their beds at 7am, but even on other excursions throughout the day the only Western faces I saw were other people from the group or my own reflection in a storefront window.

I ate my first street food today, and it was awesome. I played with the idea of getting some for the first hour of my walk, and then by the second hour I had gained enough courage to attempt the interaction. I found a place that had bread similar to the bread I loved in India (parrota), and I pointed and then held out one finger. In response, the woman working the booth held out one finger. Into her hand I placed one yuan, and she gave me the hot bread. This success of this interaction built my confidence, and the delicious food filled my stomach as I continued on my way.



It began to rain, and so instead of continuing on to find the metro station, I opted to head back in the direction of the school. I found a place called “The Wine Shop for Champions” at a major intersection, and I assume that this will become a pretty good landmark. I stopped at an open-air market on the way back, one that Dennis and I had seen the night before but were too exhausted to explore. There was much more in the market than I could ever describe, and the crowds of people were pretty amazing. The walk-way in the market was no wider than the hallway in Bentley Dorm, or the main hallway in my house, but people were stacked four, sometimes five across, attemping to get to the goods they desired. As I was walking I noticed a booth selling knitting supplies, but in the rush of the crowd, I was forced to pass it by. On the way back however, running on the confidence of my first street food interaction, I decided that I would try to buy some yarn and needles.

Of course, the man spoke no English. However, this is much easier when you can point and then work with numbers. I carry my own calculator for easy conversions, and it turns out that it is really great for easy market communication. I handed the man the calculator, and then pointed to the things I wanted, and then he added it all up and showed it to me. I got six skeins of yarn and two sets of bamboo needles for 52 yuan, or about seven dollars. I am not sure if he was expecting me to barter, but there was no way I was about to open that can of worms. 52 was just fine for me!



The rest of the walk back to the front gate, I bathed in the pride I had for myself. In just couple hours I woke up, went out on my own, managed to navigate myself (more or less safely) in early morning traffic, got breakfast, found and bought knitting supplies, and did it all before I would usually get out of bed at home. I felt pretty awesome.

I came back to my room, met up with some people, and planned to go to the bank and TrustMart at noon. It rained pretty hard for about an hour from 10-11, and I worked to get my internet up and running. Much to my disappointment, each and every attempt has been a no-go.

We missed the bank again, but went to a bank next door that was still open. After that, another trip to TrustMart (I got some chopsticks, noodle cups, laundry detergent, a dress, and crackers.) By the end of that trip, I was ready to go back to the apartment and totally crash out, which I have been doing ever since. I think a group of us are going to attempt eating out again tonight, and certainly the place we choose will have beer.

I am a little concerned that I am in the “honeymoon” phase of culture shock. I absolutely love it here. I don’t find it too difficult to do anything (other than setting up my internet) and really love the challenge of going out and getting what I need. Everything seems to be within reach, minus the slight hindrance of the language barrier. I absolutely love my apartment, and I really enjoy getting to know everyone from the program. It might be the case that all of this happiness and excitement could fade into terror and frustration in a few weeks, once the novelty of the culture has worn off and the reality of the duration of my stay has set in. We will just have to see, and I will deal with it when it comes.

That’s all for now. Here are some more relatively random pictures from the past few days!

Notes from the 11th hour (of the plane ride) ...

It was an early morning to say the least. After eventually falling asleep around midnight, a 1:30am panic wake up, and then finally getting out of bed at 3:30 to shower and complete last minute packing, I was already exhausted by the time of our departure from the house at a prompt 5am.

We loaded up the car – our tired and baffled bodies included--and headed down Cardinal Drive -- the houses still dark, in the sleepy haze between the night and the dawn.

We were right on time. Just as planned. Things were going smoothly . . . until about five miles out of Wilson when I realized I had left my computer charger (#$%@) plugged into the wall at home. A rushed turn around, a speedy tour through not so “Wide Awake” Wilson, a sprint down the hallway and into my room, and we were back on the road almost as if it had never happened. Almost.

The drive to the airport was as dark as it was silent, with only a little ambient NPR. Things were bad in Russia. Thing were bad in Nigeria. As is usually the case in world news, things were bad. None of that was my concern. My solitary concern this morning was getting on that flight in Atlanta.

My mom dropped my dad and myself off at the check-in counter and headed off to park the car, one last desperate attempt to keep time on our side. There was a line at Delta’s international check in, but nothing too detrimental to my day’s solitary concern. After waiting in line for a meager five minutes, it was my turn to throw my bag on the scale of truth. Limited to 50lbs per bag, I was pretty sure that my rolling duffle bag would be over the limit. At home it weighed 51lbs, and that was before my hectic morning “just throw it in there” packing. I lugged the bag onto the scale, and held my breath.

Damn! 52.5lbs. Surely they won’t charge me for 2.5lbs!?!? Alas, they would. So, it was either pay $80 for 2.5 lbs, or transfer (read cram) some weight into my second bag that was nowhere near the weight limit, but totally maxed out on capacity. Clearly, I have upon the horizon more important places to spend that money, so I opted for the second. Hurriedly, I tore open (ok, unzipped) the rolling duffle and made some weight conscious choices. I needed the most bang for my buck. Extra clothes. Some deodorant. Sunglasses or some such. Take a few items out, look at the scale. Take a few more items out, look again. After a few adjustments, and some shoving and crunching, I had my rolling duffle down to 50lbs exactly.

The woman who checked me in at the counter might have been one of the most unpleasant ticket person I’ve encountered. First, she was very forward and unhelpful concerning my weight problem, and very impatient for me to fix it. Second, she was quite bothered by the fact that I did not have a return ticket to the country. She wanted to know what I was doing. Well, I am going to teach, I told her. She wanted to see some type of proof. I gave her my international teacher’s identity card (who knew that would come in handy so early?!) Then she wanted to try and tell me that my visa expired in October. That is impossible, I told her. There must be some mistake. She refused to hand me my passport to check it, and when she finally gave it to me, very abruptly with my boarding passes, I doubled checked. The date she was looking at was the “Enter before” date. It was a pretty frustrating experience.

There wasn’t much time for goodbye, as I had to get through security and make it to my gate. This was actually pretty good; a lingering goodbye would have brought about within me lots of mixed feelings, making it even harder than it already was to will myself onto the escalator up to security.

From there, it was easy going to Atlanta. The flight from Raleigh was only an hour long, which gave me an idea of just how long my flight to Shanghai would be, about 17 more of those to be exact! I sat next to a woman who was on her way to Montréal for her only daughter’s wedding. She asked me about where I was going, and I told her through a laugh that I was going to China. The words are still so absurd to me. She told me that I would be fine, and that I would have a wonderful time. But then she said, “What do you do if you get over there and hate it?” What the hell are you trying to do lady?! I had no answer because I had not once, through this whole thing, allowed myself to think that way. I told her that I had traveled extensively out of the country, and although I had never been out of the country for anything near ten months, homesickness and culture shock were virtually foreign to me. It not, of course, that I don’t miss home, but I know that my parents are happy to have me out, about, and exploring the world. What was I going to do, live at home for the rest of my life?! Haha.

Travel Karma #53: When one has a short layover (read sub one hour), the arriving gate and the departing gate must be at opposite ends of the airport.

This was, no doubt, the case for me when I landed in Atlanta. I had to get from the A concourse to the E concourse. Thankfully, Gate 11 was the first gate on the right once I got to E, so I didn’t have to walk too far. I nervously approached the gate, not knowing who from the group might or might not be there.

It is always nerve-wracking to meet new people, but even more so when you know that you will be spending the next ten months of your life with them and will look to them for support, guidance, and a sense of family. No pressure there for making good first impressions.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a tall brunette waving at me, and I knew it was Tiffany. I went over to her, and gave her a big hug, and then we talked about her first flight, my first flight, our feelings about the days to come. Dennis had also arrived, but was out on a stroll around the concourse. Not long after I showed up at the gate, Hillary and Nathan arrived.

Hillary is a character. One of her first questions to me was, “Did you manage to fit all of your stuff into two bags?” To which I nodded, and then she went on to tell me that she couldn’t make it work and that she had checked three bags all weighing near fifty pounds. And there I am looking at her rolling a fourth suitcase behind her with a huge purse slung on her shoulder. Simply stunning. Hillary, you rock! We talked about what it was that she packed (mostly clothes and travel books given to her by well-wishing friends) and I mentioned that I had heard that Shanghai had some awesome shopping.

Nathan is really laid back. I remember asking him a question, although I cannot remember exactly what it was, and he replied, “Oh, I have no idea. I’m just along for the ride. If I need to know something I just ask her,” pointing to Hillary. They both went to school together at University of Michigan.

A few moments later, Dennis returned from his morning walk, and we all got to talking about what it would be like, posing lots of questions to see if anyone knew the answer. Dennis and I took field trip to the bathroom, and by the time we got back they were already boarding the plane. We were all pretty listless about boarding, knowing just how obscenely long our flight was. When there were very few people left outside the gate, we all decided that we may as well board. It would be pretty stupid to miss a flight while you were standing outside the gate, right?

Tiffany and I ended up sitting together in the extreme back of the plane, literally meaning the last seats on the left side. It has its benefits and its costs. One benefit is that it is just a two-seat row, so that gives us the illusion of having more space (which we do not actually have, hence the illusion). Cost: my face is about 12 inches from the door of the bathroom. All I will be able to smell for the next few days is the scent of disinfectant and deodorizer trying to cover up the scent of all that goes on in a bathroom. Not the most pleasant thing, but it is better than the trash smell coming out of the vents on the other side of the plane. At this point, I’ll take what I can get.

The view from my seat.

As for what I have been doing on this hellacious flight . . . turns out there is a really nice TV/movie set up, touch screen style. I’ve played a plethora of games, watched some criminal and medical dramas (Bones, House) began but never finished three separate movies, and most excitingly, watched an episode of The Office. Of course, I had seen it like ten times before, but it was a warm blanket and a cup of hot coco (comfort wise, that is, not literally, of course). When I am not messing with the screen staring me in the face, I’ve been mostly writing, reading, playing with my translator, or listening to music. Dennis comes to visit us sometimes, not surprisingly, on his way to the bathroom.

Tiffany is recently engaged, so I spent some time with her going trough bridal magazines. If you had told me a year ago that I would be critiquing various wedding gowns and accessories on a flight to Shanghai to reach my place of employment with a girl from West Virginia and loving every moment, I never would have been able to believe it. I am seriously loving these moments. These moments where I am amazed at the random beauty of my own life. Its a wonderful gift and an exciting adventure to be me right now. Glad I can share it with you.

A cute kid on the plane who played with us for a while.

And . . . here . . . we . . . go . . .

I had a pretty standard day considering the fact that nothing standard is to follow upon its completion. 

Tomorrow morning, I wake up at 4am and leave the house at 5am to get on a flight by 7:30, to then make a one hour connection in Atlanta for a 10:05 departure to Shanghai. Your typical case of hurry up and wait. Wait for 18 hours (in more or less the same seat) to be exact. I've had a hard time imagining what it will be like to attempt to occupy myself for that amount of time, but I think I should be able to accomplish it just fine. In my carry-on I have:

- 2 epic novels

- 2 china travel books

- MacBook

- ipod

- camera

- Adbusters magazine

- calendar

- journal

- clipboard

- important documents

- electronic translator (Thanks Dad!)

- wallet

- water canteen

- various beauty and hygiene products

- blanket

If I were MacGyver, I think that would be enough raw material to fashion a makeshift aircraft, but, really, where's the need in such nonsense? I'll most likely use all items for their intended purposes. Most likely . . . 

I am super excited about meeting my travel companions from the program, and even more excited about landing in Shanghai where I imagine that the reality of the whole thing will hit me pretty hard. By Friday around 5pm (Shanghai Time), I should be happily situated in my apartment, and perhaps even on my first exploration around the campus and the vast city just outside it's walls. Look forward to photos in the next post (I already packed my camera cord) of final packing, the epic travel day, and my first day in Shanghai!! Holy crap . . . 

Needless to say, it might take me a little while to prioritize my life once I get there, and although keeping everyone up to date is pretty high on my priority list, it falls short of things like food, shelter, and perhaps even hygiene. As such, it may not be until Saturday or Sunday that I am able to update again. 

Until then . . . !

Life and Death

Okay, even I will admit that title is a little much . . . 

It occurred to me, quite suddenly today, that I am living each day as if Delta Flight 19 entails my inevitable death. Doing "last things" here in Wilson. Making final arrangements with banks and doctors. My parents making special accommodations, wishing to meet my every need and want because "my days are numbered" here in the States. An inability to see my future beyond the crowded gate in Atlanta. All this leads to an inherent sense of a certain and timely demise. 

This line of thought, however, is horrifically backwards. Flight 19 entails life, and a glorious one at that. 

Flight 19 is the punctuation on lingering ends and the large, capitalized letter on new beginnings. The ends, it seems, could be punctuated with any variety of marks. A question, an exclamation, an ellipses . . . Although they may remain open and mostly ambiguous in the meaning of each particular punctuation, the ends must become Ends because they will find revival only in new beginnings. 

The beginnings may simply start with an "I" or they may, more appropriately, begin with a supportive, "We" as the group continues to develop a collective consciousness (even if it is currently limited to the internet). Upon landing, we will all find ourselves catapulted from the lives we once lived, forced to attempt a synthesis between the west and the east, between the old and the new, between the past and the present, the present and the future. 

Camus urges us to "Live to the point of tears." Pushing life to this limit is often difficult, and too far from the preferred levels of comfort most wish to enjoy. However, the times that we must hold back the tears are most oft the times that we find we are really living. Through our watery eyes we can see more clearly what and why we value, and how those values are to influence our lives. Certainly tears must not always be negative.  We must spawn a great many of our tears from happiness, fulfillment, beauty, and pleasure. 

Rather than feeling that my tears (which will undoubtedly make themselves known in the next three days) indicate sadness for something lost, I remind myself that these tears indicate that I am about to embark on an experience that is very real for me, a grand example of Life. This is an experience that will help me connect, not with myself, but with the ever shifting meaning of the monolithic heart urging and supporting the racing pulse of our modern world. 

Packing Pictures

This was Kitty's idea of a protest. 

Everything I will need for a year, more or less. Really makes me think about the notion of possessions. Perhaps the next year will bring about a significant lifestyle change . . . 

Of all the western goods you can find in China, tampons are not one of them -- much to my dismay. Thus, here is my (hopeful) year supply. 

Each practice pack I undertake, I shed a little more "possession weight" -- leaving behind a pair of shoes here, a skirt there. This is good for me, as I think I will be more happy the less I have to lug around with me on my voyage to my new home. Although it may seem to signify over-preparation to pack days in advance, I am quite happy with my decision to do such as it will, no doubt, allow me to stay calm the night before leaving. Or so I hope . . . 

Five Days

I had intended to write something yesterday, which would have marked one week until my departure. Turns out preparing to leave the country for a year can be a little hectic, so I have had not the time to write about my various preparations. Finally, after a very productive day running around and gathering some final important items (new glasses, book on shanghai, mandarin basics book, alarm clock etc.) I am sitting quietly in my room and trying to gather some of the thoughts that have been pulsing through my brain . . . 

I am feeling, more than ever, that time is completely out of my hands. I can neither speed the clock up, nor slow it down. I can only sit, and enjoy the moments as they pass - attempting to grasp in each of these passing moments some authenticity in my existence. 

Currently, I feel a little like those coin machines at science museums -- the ones where you put a penny in the chute, and it spirals down toward a tiny hole at the bottom, just large enough to let it pass. In the beginning, the penny takes its time, slowly making its rotations. But, as the path narrows, the penny gains substantial momentum, and is soon moving  at two, three, four times its original speed. By the very end, as the penny nears its final destination, it moves at a speed the eye can no longer process. The penny becomes one solid blur of motion until it finally drops off into the black abyss. 

I doubt that I will be dropping into a black abyss anytime soon, but I do in my current preparations relate to the movement of the penny. As my departure date approaches, I feel the pressure of time bearing down. I see my actions becoming more frantic, and my thoughts tend to follow suit. I feel as if I will be at the point of near explosion right before boarding the plane in Atlanta. 

Dualistically, I sense a calm and silence after the wheels of the plane leave the runway, sending the plane hurdling into the air at rates more alarming than I actually care to ponder. I will let out one last, long breath of Western air, welcoming in the air of my Eastern experience, and anything that it might care to generate. 

Put more simply, it is the agony of anticipation that is currently killing me. 

The future is always present. It sometimes takes the form of an ideal. Sometimes a dream. Sometimes the bland prospect of having to live the same day, the way you just have lived it, toward an indefinite destiny. 

The past asserts its presence, adding tension to the dialogue between time and thought. It is a reminder. A reminder of old selves. Of both calm and turbulence. A reminder of the thousands of ways in which we once fell short of our vision for ourselves. 

The past does not determine the future, but its effect is a unique one. We cannot, even if we so wish, forget our past. It is sometimes hurtful, sometimes helpful, but always a reminder of the way things went, and inherent in that, the way we wish things to go. 

As conscious and existing beings, our first responsibility is to differentiate between the things over which we have no control and those we do. We then must come to accept those things out of our control, and decide for ourselves what we will do with the rest. Undoubtedly, there will be a lot of factors within the next year that are well beyond my control. The doings of a government that is not my own. The customs of a culture that is still foreign to me. The actions of my peers who, too, will be under great pressure in this new adventure. 

However, there is more in my control that I often give credit. I hope to take control of each of my precious days in China, and live them to their fullest potential. I hope to reconnect with my vision of personal meaning, seamlessly weaving that meaning in with a clearer vision of my currently ambiguous future. 

This is both where I am, and where I am going.