Pictures Updated

I just updated my pictures...three new albums! Wahoo! Look to the left of the page and click to view.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Do you remember the Staples commercial that ran the summer and fall of 1996？ It was a dad gliding down the aisles of Staples to the tune of "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" while his children trailed behind him，looking completely defeated。Although "back to school" time in China is a bit different than the mad rush in the States，I did spend a few of my afternoons fighting through crowds at Aschun (Walmart-like megastore which is so full of people at any given time that I often dread being mowed down by a shopping cart driven by a deranged, bargain-hunting family) to get a notebook or two．

Surprisingly enough, being a teacher at the beginning of the school year did not bring with it the mixed bag of emotion I had as a student. When I was in school, there was the warm fuzzy feeling of going back to something I knew and loved, while also dreading all of the work I did not want to do. As a kindergarten teacher, I wake each morning ready to face the day as a glorified entertainer. My lesson plans consist of games and songs, and my days are made up of kissing boo-boos and breaking up "biting battles." All of last week I was without a voice due to the fact that I have become a rubbing post for every runny nose and the receptical of all hacking coughs. Newton Kindergarten is one giant germ-fest. Wahoo! However, I do love all of my kiddies. The kindergarten has both ex-pat and local children. I teach two English classrooms and 2 bilingual (which means local) classes. In my English classes I have children from America, Australia, France, Japan, Germany, Holland, Denmark, Malaysia, and the UK. It's the new U.N! Despite the language barrier, the two Japanese children seem to have taken a shine to me. One is constantly biting me on the behind, the other, well, she's even more friendly!

In addition to teaching kindergarten, I have taken on a business English class at a German air conditioning company. For three hours each Saturday morning I do roleplays, Power Point presentations, listento music, and converse with the middle age, middle management of Trox Air Conditioning. It's been fun. It probably wasn't the best idea to sign up for working six days a week right from the start, but who said I did anything in moderation? Speaking of working hours, next week is a national holiday (I have no idea which one) and so we have the whole week off! Wahoo. However, the catch is that we need to work Saturday and Sunday of this week. Who doesn't like working 7 days a week?

The apartment is turning out to be quite nice. The air conditioning, refrigerator, bathroom light, and washing machine have been fixed and our ayi (means "auntie" in Chinese, aka housekeeper) comes twice a week to give us a thorough wipe down. I will post pictures as soon as it's presentable (i.e. when the walls are no longer bare, but instead covered in original art work by Jess and I). Right now it's clean but depressingly spartan. However, this week we are definitely going to start using the kitchen. We have pots and pans, although they are so cheap that the flame from the stove heats them through much to quickly. It will be hit or miss at first, but what's a little burnt garlic?

To the left I have posted pictures of some of the children in my classes, and a softball game where Jess and I were the only spectators in the grand baseball stadium in Wuxi. Our friends, most commonly referred to as "the lads" or by thier team name "The Mooseknucklers", are part of a four team league. It was the first game of the season and let's just say they didn't play the best game of thier life. They played against a team from Singapore who were at the field hours before the game, practicing. I think the Mooseknucklers rolled out of bed an hour before the game and were still hungover from the night before. It was highly entertaining to watch. Although I do not have a future career as a sports photographer, the pics are not half bad!

Tea or Vodka?

Last weekend I joined the Harvey girls on a trip to the great city of Shanghai. We stayed at a swanky art deco hotel with a bathroom the size of my bedroom at home and beds as hard as rocks. I had a fabulous time. Uncle Harvey had put me in contact with some people in Shanghai who I contacted upon arriving in China. One of those contacts, Sophie, met us for lunch and then showed us around some parts of the city. That night Jessica and I stayed out till early in the morning dancing with the expats of Shanghai. The next day we went to the market where I practiced my bargaining skills - let's just say I need to work on my poker face.
I wanted to catch a train back to Suzhou in the late afternoon so I could start on my homework, but when we went to the train station, all of the trains were full except for a 9:30pm "K" train. In China there are different kinds of trains. "D" trains are clean, sleek and comfortable. "K" trains, well, not so much. After entering the "lounge" to wait for my train, I saw people sleeping everywhere: on the floor, on top of garbage and food...I guess they were gearing up for the long train ride home. After being corralled through a narrow gate we went down to meet our train. It was then that I realized that my ticket did not have a seat number. I went to the conductor and showed him my seatless ticket. He proceeded to point to the ticket, then at me, and then to the space beside him - like he wanted me to wait. I thought, I can do this, and settled for standing next to him for the next half hour. He talked to me constantly in Chinese, probably thinking that if I heard it enough I would understand him. Not so much. Instead, the more he talked, the more I panicked. Here I was in a strange country, in a far stranger train station, and not able to communicate. Meanwhile, a small crowd had gathered around us...fellow conductors, people getting off the train for a smoke, and people who just seemed to want to stare at me. There was a lot of finger pointing and laughing.
By the time 9:30 came around, I tried to retrieve my ticket from the conductor and board the train, but he refused to give it back. He pointed to the train, which I awkwardly squeezed onto - there were no seats left and so I was fated to stand in the front of the train amongst chain smoking, personal-boundary-pushing locals. Then came the kicker...the conductor followed me onto the train, took my baggage and brought it to the "captain's room". Unwilling to let my luggage out of my sight, I followed, and was sat down on a bench in a closet. The conductor sat next to me and launched into what I assumed to be a thorough explanation of the events of the last half hour. I just nodded and smiled while carefully watching to make sure he did not close the door, as I didn't think I would want to be couped up in a closet with him for the entire trip, alone.
As he lit up his first of many cigarettes, he started up the conversation where he left off...and I still had no idea what he was talking about. As he kept pointing to his nose, and then at me, several passengers stopped by to glance into the closet, stare at me for an uncomfortable period of time, wave, and then make room for the next spectator. I felt like a zoo animal. Meanwhile, his charming cohort (another conductor) squeezed past everyone and into the already filled to capacity closet. After situating himself opposite "my conductor" and I, he lit a cigarette for himself, spat right by my foot for good measure, and then offered me the choice of tea or vodka. And my very own cigarette. What a lucky girl.
While I turned down his offers as politely as I could, My Conductor" picked up my arm and started counting my freckles. A young man, who was taking his turn watching me, started to translate a bit for us. He said that the Chinese people only have freckles when they are old. My Conductor pointed to his freckle and said that it appeared when he turned 40. As I clearly wasn't forty, they were mystified as to why I had developed freckles at such a young age.
The half-hour long train ride passed fairly quickly and upon my arrival, the translator helped me off the train with my bag, and then proceeded to escort me through Suzhou's train station and into a cab. Although he told me that he was heading to his sister's house, which was far away from where I am staying, he got into the cab with me. He and the cab driver deliberated over the address of the Hotel for a good ten minutes, and then we headed off. Of course, I knew where the hotel was, as I have lived there for the past three weeks, but it seemed like they wanted to navigate it on their own. They dropped me off at 100Happy Hotel and the next morning I woke up and asked myself if last night actually happened. It did. I have the spittle on my shoe to prove it.

Rain and Doors

This morning we went to the Master-of-Nets Garden, which is right down the road from the hotel. Although the compound is very small, its maze-like layout makes it seem much larger than it actually is. Take a look at the pictures on the left.
I couldn't get into my room this afternoon. Sharon and I had been sitting in a coffee shop waiting for the monsoon-like rain to stop and the flooding in the streets to recede, when we saw a glimmer of light. Thinking that we could dash back to the hotel before it started again, we made a break for it. As soon as we were out the door, the force of the rain increased tenfold. It felt like we were getting shiatsu massages the entire run back to 100Happy Hotel. After we had squeaked our way across the lobby and up the elevator, I tried to open my door. The knob wouldn't turn. Here I was - a dripping, shivering mess - desperately trying to open the door. Housekeeping stopped by and tried the room keys for a good ten minutes, consulted amongst themselves, and then started the process all over again. After 20 minutes, a young man with a cocky smile stopped by, tried his card, and to our surprise, the door swung open. Being the complete genius that I am, I closed the door and tried my card. It didn't work. He tried his key again, but this time it didn't work either. So he opened the door to the room next door and climbed out the window. The fifth floor window! While he was trying to figure how to break into my room through my locked windows, I tried my key card and of course it worked. Why wouldn't it? After locking me in my room, he tried to open my room and couldn't. Up came the locksmith. Right now he is taking apart the door and singing.
At least the bucket under the air conditioner is gone.

The Grapes Taste Like Plums

The grapes taste like plums and the apples taste like pears in China. When I conveyed to the cleaning staff at the hotel that my air conditioning was leaking using both charades and picture aids, they put a trash bin under it. The second sink in the hallway doesn't work, so I have started to use it as a fruit bowl. I think I'm starting to adapt.


The Chinese drink their water lukewarm. Even when it is 100 degrees out, they make sure that the cup has a combination of hot and cold water in it before handing it to you. Today was the first time I had ice water and it was magnificent.
I saw a Chinese Golden Retriever earlier this morning. It was the first large dog I have seen since my arrival. Sharon told me that they are so few and far between here because the big ones get eaten first. Lovely.

Arrival

As this is my second night in Suzhou, I thought I would reflect on what I have seen and done these past two days. I survived the plane ride and arrived in Shanghai around 1:30 pm. I was amazed at how quickly I was in and out of the airport. There was no one on line at customs and my bags were delivered quickly. The driver was waiting for me as soon as got out and had the engine running by 2:00. The ride to Suzhou was interesting to say the least. This was my introduction to Chinese drivers and now I know that I will never want to drive here. There seem to be no rules. When the light turns red, cars still go. Everyone seems to want to be first, so we were constantly being cut off while cutting off others. However, there never seems to be any hard feelings or road rage. In fact, it seems as if this "road aggression" is completely natural.
Upon arriving at the hotel, Jessica and I moved into our room, which is spacious but has its little quarks. The only channels on the tv are in Chinese, the air conditioner leaked into my suitcase, and the shower doors do not close. Also, the beds are rock solid. It actually hurts to lie on your side, but thanks to the joys of jet lag, the pain is barely noticeable.
The weather is ridiculously humid. I feel like my hair will never be the same. Today it rained a bit and the breese was a welcome relief from the heat. The Happy Hotel is located on Shiquan Street, which is the main drag in downtown Suzhou. Suzhou is most definitely a city, with a population of six million. Jessica told me that it is also one of the wealthiest cities in the country, due to the amount of international companies that have offices here.
Speaking of international, there quite a few "ex-pat" hangouts. Last night Jessica took me to three bars/clubs that are frequented by internationals. It seems like everyone knows each other that the ex-pat community is fairly small.
One thing I noticed when people watching at the coffee shop this morning was the lack of birds. I was so surprised to not see any pigeons wandering the streets. Jess suggested it might be the pollution.
Today I received an unofficial job offer. Jessica put me in touch with a woman that she had met who was looking for an full-time English teacher. Tomorrow I am going to meet with her and possibly sit in on some classes. Things certainly move fast here.
Jet lag is starting to set in once again, so I am off to bed.

En Route

As the countdown begins I've been trying to pull together a packing list and pure panic has set in! Who knew that I would need toiletries and a new wardrobe to last me an entire year? There must be shampoo and lotion there, right? As I make mental lists of the clothes I must acquire from the Loft Outlet before I leave (employee discount - whoo!!) and then count the money in the bank, reality sets in. I am going to teach English to people I cannot communicate with!

While searching the world of blogs I discovered this video (via MetroDad) and found hope. Despite language barriers, everyone connects on one level or another. Take a look.

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.