Two weeks, two years ... and a bundle of unpredictable events

On Sunday, December 6th, I was chatting with Michelle, telling her I wanted to detail a day this year and then write about the same day in 2016. She suggested that I wrote about a whole week this year, and then the same week in December of 2016. I liked her idea, so I pulled up the blog and wrote out the days of this week, beginning with Monday, December 7th. And here I am on Wednesday, first getting a moment to reflect on the days. It has been an unexpected week, as many are...

Monday, December 7, 2015
It began with school as usual. My kids this year simply rock. I have a renewed passion for teaching and I rarely get out of bed begrudgingly (and if I do, it is more due to insomnia than dread of my classroom). We have been reading Durrenmatt's The Visit, a satirical play criticizing greed and the corruption of justice. After school, I ran around Carolina with Alli and Charles. We're trying to make a routine of after school Monday runs. I'm loving the workout company and giving my yoga and TRX routine a change-up.

After our run, I came home and began preparing for my Spanish lesson with Mery, whom I had invited to dinner as I had made a minestrone soup on Sunday, which I believed to be all the more tasty in the presence of good company. I was putting the soup in a pot to heat up when Linds texted and told me that the whole family had been summoned to Edgewood, where Grandpa has been residing for over a year, as hospice had told them that he may be on his last hours. The news came as a surprise; Grandpa's mind has been gone for some months now, but his health has stayed in pretty sound condition. My thoughts immediately turned to Grandma when Mery was ringing my buzzer. She was a good soul to have here as the tears came upon her entrance. A big embrace and her words of kindness and comfort were so welcome.

She didn't stay long. After her departure, I began making calls to change my flight home for Friday. A nearly sleepless night followed.

One of my favorite photos of Grandpa. He and Gus were such buddies.

Grad school graduation. I loved being sandwiched between these two.

Tuesday, December 8, 2015
Despite my foggy brain, the school day went rather well. Administration was understanding as I told them I would be missing seven days of school. I tried to begin my sub planning, but fighting fatigue took all of my energy.

Nicole and I try to keep to a walking routine on Tuesdays. Carolina again. The fresh(ish) air and company was good for the soul. And little Lolita, her pug, adds some humor to all of our jaunts. We conversed a good deal about where our futures would take us. There is currently a good deal of ambiguity for us both. Chile, Mexico...perhaps the Dominican Republic for me??

Michelle came over after dinner to drink wine and feign work. My world is full of good people. Always.

Wednesday, December 9, 2015
Worked towards preparing the kiddos for the essay exam on Friday. The best part of this school day was Alli's gingerbread loaf. That woman has a way with molasses.

Decided to go for a mani/pedi after school and then promptly walked to Megamaxi afterwards to stock up on chocolate to bring home. Note this: I did not break into any of it tonight. It is sitting on the counter untouched. There are still nearly three hours in this days, though.

Knocked out a good TRX session on the terrace. It was nice to do the workout in the dark tonight. The lights on the mountains and in the valley below were quite pretty.

I'm obsessed with pesto right now. And zucchini noodles.

Quick chats with Mom and Cass and Ana followed.

About to activate my Search Associates account and settle into bed with Americanah.

Thursday, December 10, 2015
I may have spent my preps today digging through Search Associates. I might have expanded my search to include Europe now, rather than just Latin America. I may also have fleetingly thought of the possibility of South Africa. I am now audibly groaning at my desk. Oh, ambiguity.

Celeste and I are working out together. We try to buddy up each Thursday, switching casas for a little sweat fest. Her place today. FitnessBlender and myyogaworks.com. Let's do it.

Then it will be on to packing for my take-off tomorrow night.

Friday, December 11, 2015
School as usual.

A good walk with Nicole and Lola afterwards. I came home to a message from Linds to call. I knew what this meant. Grandpa had passed. I sat down on my couch to let the news settle as the sun was setting behind the mountains. The fireworks this night were most certainly for Grandpa. We will celebrate the man he was and the good life he lived with two services, one in Blaine on Tuesday and the other in Superior on Thursday.

I went to the airport at 9:45 to head home. As I was about to grab an apple to snack on, I shook my head and picked up a Snickers bar. It's what Grandpa would have voted for.

Saturday, December 12, 2015
I landed in Atlanta at 5:45 am. The first thing I always pick up when arriving Stateside is a tea latte.

Linds picked me at MSP at 10 am and we were on our way back home. We stopped at Chad's to tell the Chica Littles about Grandpa. They were sweet and brave.

Mom and Gram and Dad were home when Linds and I pulled up to Mom and Dad's house. It's so good to be home.

The family and two of Dad's friends when to Ichiban's for dinner and Gram, Dad, Mom, Abby and I went on to a Michael W. Smith and Amy Grant Christmas concert at the Target Center.

I slept like a baby with a full belly.

Sunday, December 13, 2015
Nothing fights insomnia like my bed at Mom and Dad's. I slept soundly until 9 am. Stretched and watched some Food Network and then went to Linds' place for a sweaty Insanity workout.

Dad made some breakfast Elk sausage for brunch.

Now I am at Gram's, typing to the smell of her homemade Swedish meatballs, about to begin composing Grandpa's biography.

This evening I'll now get to attend Alyssa and Joel's benefit at Brewhaus and hug a bunch of other friends.

And this night ended with a sleepover at Gram's. And cuddling up in her bed on Monday morning.

And a year later ...
Wednesday, December 7, 2016
I should have been asleep when the clock struck midnight, turning the 6th into the 7th, but, alas, I was not. I was, rather, dangling a little basket with food by a thin rope to the balcony one floor below me. Patacón took a big leap last night. I left the window open, just a crack, and before I knew it, gone like the wind. After a number of hours of playing MacGyver with the concierge man, Martin, one of my new besties, that curious cat actually got in the basket, and hunkered down in it while I pulled her up to the 17th floor. I doubted Martin's outrageous idea (and wondered where the hell the Chinese firefighters were hiding), but it worked. My cat has never been so quiet as she was when she was back in my arms. She slept soundly, while adrenaline was still coursing through my veins. At least it made for an entertaining story for 1st block today ...

This is Martin. This was his brilliant idea. That is indeed the basket that Patacón willingly climbed into, and rode like an escalator back to safety ... or back to heaven as she now realizes home is ...

Despite her angelic look here, she's just plotting her next mischievous act.

And the funny thing about my juniors? We just finished reading The Visit today. One year ago today, I was reading it with my Americano seniors ... totally ignorant to the trajectory of my future in China. Oh, Life. You and your plot twists.

Thursday, December 8, 2016
Recapping Thursday while I sit in my classroom Friday morning ... and I can hardly conjure what I did yesterday. This phenomena I continue to call #ChinaBrainFreeze ... but nearly five months into my new life, I feel I am losing time to be able to claim my memory loss is due to the big shift.

Squinting into the past 24 hours ago, I can vaguely conjure the memory that I went to the gym. I don't have my Celeste and Alli (but I'll have those Densons back next year!!), and my TRX is getting dusty, but I've joined a gym with good classes and a working set of weights. A good hour of cardio used to by my norm, but yesterday's 45-minute elliptical/treadmill session was longer than I usually get in as of the past months.

Friday, December 9, 2016
Inspired by Alli and Charles, I have begun to arise around 5 am to do a morning workout several days a week. A myyogaworks session revved my appetite ... and a growing tradition in Shekou is to meet up with my friend Alexandra for breakfast at Emily's, a sweet little cafe close to school. I miss many of my traditions from Ecuador, but making new ones is quite fun.

Off to Hong Kong tonight to see Wicked. Having easy access to the arts and culture of our nearby island is a treat here.
...
Oh, that performance was something wicked. I loved being back at the theatre, and I was in good spirits as I walked to the van with my friends to head back to the mainland. And all was well ... until we were approaching the border, and I am filling out the form to cross back into China, it dawns on me ... that I have made a mistake. I have failed to bring with me the passport with my Chinese visa inside. When I also remember that I have a photo of the visa on my phone, I am momentarily hopeful ... but the reality is, I am no longer in Kansas, or Quito; sweet smiles or whiney words will not get me what I want here; without the proper papers, I will not be re-entering the mainland.

And so here is how it goes down:

It is just before midnight when I am escorted back across the Hong Kong border into a taxi. (I forgot to mention that the border closed behind us and the border was closing in front of us as we were trying to figure out my ordeal ... the whole van of us nearly got stuck in no-man's land for the night.) I am scrambling to try to figure out what to do as the taxi speeds back towards Hong Kong, the key to my Shenzhen apartment, where my old passport with my visa hides, now in the hand of my friend Clayton. In my phone, I also have the phone number and address for Charles' aunt Linda. She and I had dinner before I flew home this fall. I use the taxi driver's phone to call her ... twice. There is no answer ...

Saturday, December 10, 2016
As I cannot get a hold of Linda, I ask the driver to bring me to a hotel in Central. Just before 1 am, the taxi driver drops me off at what I believe is an hotel, and speeds off into the night. I walk up to the concierge, explain that I need a room for the night to which he responds, "Oh, we're not a hotel." Befuddled, I turn myself in a circle, trying to get my bearings and figure out where in the devil I am now. I ask the man the address of the building and figure out that the taxi driver has indeed driven me to Linda's place. When I give the kind man in the entrance my name and Linda's, he smiles and responds, "She's just walked in." Dang, I think, Aunt Linda's got more stamina than I do. 

A confused Linda answers her phone as the doorman rings her; she welcomes me upstairs. When I step into her gorgeous 36th floor apartment, I have to chuckle as she tells me, "I've just taken off my shoes. I walked in my door 30 seconds ago from Singapore." #TimingIsEverything. We chat, and we laugh, and Linda offers me pajamas, a toothbrush and a comfy bed. For such a mishap, it's worked out pretty well now.

In the morning, the passport and clothes that Clayton has retrieved from my house and passed off to Yvette arrive. And the rest of the day went as Yvette and I had planned out earlier in the week.

We dive into a delightful brunch, and then we made our way over to the Jade Market, purchasing some pretty jewelry for ourselves and for gifts, and MTR on to the Wanchai area, finding more cute cafes where we sip hot chocolates, ending at Coffee Academics to meet up with Mervin, the attractive jack of all trades who lived in Minneapolis, worked with a couple of my college friends on some 48-hour film stuff, and now owns a farm in Cambodia. Wishing we had more time to chat, we sip drinks until the last minute, rush off in a taxi, and just make the last ferry back to the mainland, where I do make it across the border.

What a day.

Sunday, December 11, 2016
It was a build your own triathlon kind of day. A hike up the hundreds of stairs of Nanshan mountain to get a clear view of the ocean, some weight-lifting at the gym, and a stretchy yoga session was a much needed trifecta of activity to reset myself for the upcoming week of finals ... the final stretch before being home for Christmas.

The pagoda at the top of Nanshan ... on a clear day like this, you get a lovely view of the ocean below.

I spent a lovely evening at Alexandra's planning more details of our trip to Korea for Chinese New Year, and watching Love Actually. There's no snow (it's still 77 degrees today), and few holiday decorations in the city, but now it's beginning to feel like Christmas.

Monday, December 12, 2016
Final exams began today. Later this week I am about to see a large stack of essays pile up on my desk, screaming for attention before I can board that plane for home.

I went for a pedicure after school, but returned to help moderate The Great Debate; the 8th grade students had to research both sides of artificial intelligence. I was in for a treat. Most students came dressed up, some popping their collars beneath their suit jackets (mmm, kind of adorable), and they were much more composed than I was at that age, using credible evidence to argue their cases. #sisrocks indeed. <3

Tuesday, December 13, 2016
Those essays hadn't turned up on my desk just yet (all of my students take finals on Wednesday), so I made my way up to my friend Britt's classroom to work on an art project as part of a belated birthday gift. I am struggling to keep focused this week, but I got lost in the lines and the colors. It was like therapy.

Workouts continue with a group of my friends at school ... today we took it to the gym for a good weight workout. #sisSweats ... and next year Alli and Charles will be my fitness friends in the flesh again!
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It is now Wednesday morning as I finish up reflecting on these two weeks. I walked into these weeks thinking they would be predictable and full of the status quo, but now that I am thinking about it, weeks in my world are rarely mundane or predictable. When you live abroad, teach, own a cat ... no, when you just live, life has an adventure in store around every corner, it seems.

Signing off with my new favorite quote this morning ...

Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of the world. All things break. All things can be mended. Not with time, as they say, but with intention. So go. Love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally. The broken world waits in darkness for the light that is you.

L.R. Knost

For one of my great loves

Today we gathered to celebrate an extraordinary woman. My grandmother, who her grandchildren have forever called Nienie, has been a model of strength and independence. She was a trailblazer in male-dominated fields, becoming the first female executive at Burlington Northern Railroad, a "citizen of the world" having traveled to over 20 countries, and a passionate learner her entire life. And she was one of my soulmates. 

I put my heart into the following words, to honor her today at celebration of her life, held at Central Lutheran Church in Minneapolis.

Over a decade ago, I was living with Nienie for the summer in her condo by Lake of the Isles. One night, after dinner, she pulled out a poem for me by German poet Rainer Maria Rilke. It is a poem that I find a way to share with my students each year, a poem that was framed above my bed here, and a poem I come back to frequently when I need some grounding, when I need a reminder to open myself up to the present moment and whatever it is bringing. I would like to share it now with you.

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,

then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,

go to the limits of your longing.

Embody me.

Flare up like a flame

and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.

Just keep going. No feeling is final.

Don't let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.

You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.

An excerpt from this poem made its way into a memoir I wrote this September, as I was drafting a piece alongside my students. Unsuccessfully fighting back tears in my classroom one morning, as my new sophomores worked quietly at their desks, I began writing…

My eyes keep welling up with tears. I wish I had a better poker face, but her image materializes in my mind’s eye and I feel my breath catch. My lip quivers. And my throat tightens. The news  still feels unreal, surreal, a hoax, a bad joke, it can’t be true.

I float back to Argentina. Just two years ago; our South American adventure inspired by my life in Ecuador. Images arise … The Japanese Garden, shoe stores, fine dining, the best steak, the clear crystalline sky. And then we’re stirring a big pot. I look up at Nienie, as I am grinning and laughing because isn’t it fun to stir the pot, so to speak, to mix things up, create just a bit of chaos? This pot simmers with rabbit stock, butter, onions and white wine. We’ll be throwing in more veggies soon, potatoes and brilliant and bright bell peppers. They’ll hit our tongues and make our tastebuds tango.

Tango … tango … tango … Another summer night. My 20-year-old anxious self sits with NieNie in her front room, the one with windows to the street, the one with the tall giraffe, wooden, brought back from one of her trips to another exotic place. And Julie, with her beautiful French accent, is with us this night too, visiting from Paris. Cold Bryer’s vanilla ice cream is slowly melting in our bowls, dressed in chocolate sauce and buttoned with walnuts. Soothing words Julie and Nienie are speaking to my scared and shaky soul, about to embark for a semester in Spain. Through Rilke’s poem she tells me, “You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing.”

So some weeks later, I do. I take her words and Rilke’s, and I fly the farthest I’ve ever been on my own. And it’s unnerving and dizzying and brilliant to be planted on Spanish soil for those four months. It is somehow serendipitous the way I have come back to the place I first traveled with my NieNie, my grandmother onlookers mistake for my mother. A common misconception that we giggle at, smile at and delight in.

I thought we’d have so many more times to laugh and travel and sip wine and simply talk, letting our voices drift into the air, our thoughts and words mingling together with the birds that chirped outside of her window. Another warm, summer night we sat comfortably in a moment of silence. But she broke the stillness. “I’m sick” she simply said. “I have metastasized lung cancer.”

Such words inspire disbelief and confusion and anger and devastation. She is my NieNie. She is the one who has inspired me in the kitchen, inspired my love of culture, inspired my heart, inspired my mind. She has grown my soul.

And now I sit here today, and I can’t stop the tears from pooling in my eyes, from making a river down my cheeks, as memories come back to me.

Memoir, memories, moments. Moments that weave themselves into the fabric of our beings. If I am a tapestry, she is the red thread that adds depth to my design’s beauty.

I use the present tense here today still … she is the red thread that adds depth to my design’s beauty. Nienie’s body is not here to hug, or to sip wine with. We cannot do those things we delighted in doing with her, be it debating politics or the latest book club read or planning a time to meet at a movie. But her spirit is still here among us, as we share stories … about times we laughed with her, about times we cried with her, about times we cooked with her. We can tell stories about the way she molded our minds, about the way she encouraged us, and about the way she loved us … These stories are braided into all of our beings. Nienie’s body is not present with us today, but her spirit lives on in each of us.

I recently came across a Rumi quote. That ancient Persian poet long ago wrote: The day is gone, but my story is not finished. All of us here today are Nienie’s living story. and we will carry  her with us through remembering her wisdom when we are shopping. When we walk into Neiman Marcus, Nienie’s favorite shopping phrase will pop into our heads. CPW, cost per wear … Yes, yes you can spend a small fortune on those shoes, as long as you will wear them, everyday, for the rest of your life. We carry her into our days as we continue her traditions, when we let our children or grandchildren eat dessert before dinner, as long as it is Bryer’s vanilla ice cream with Pepperidge Farm cookies, because this pairing is indeed a perfect prelude to steak, a bit of salad, and lots of french bread. Her words are woven into ours when we retell the stories she loved to tell us, like about the time that her eldest son climbed the roof to fly off it just like Superman. Nienie’s story does continue now as we draw on the strength and perseverance that we learned from watching her.  

I love you to the infinity where your soul now exists, Nienie.

Life with Chinese Characteristics, Chapter 4: A Week Without Walls

It is October 29th today, and I have now been living in Shenzhen for 13 weeks. While the past couple of months have offered moments of triumph and awe, many of the days in these past weeks I have been feeling the slump ... the expat slump that those of us living and teaching abroad experience each time we plant ourselves on new soil; the Slump is not germane to any one particular place, but rather connected to the decision to be a bit nomadic. So, the first few months feel something like this:

Less important are the details of the big dip you see above, as what I want to celebrate here is that we are climbing back up the ladder to that place where my emotions express themselves with fewer tears and with more sincere smiles. 

This past week I had the privilege of taking a trip with three of my colleagues and our 10th grade class. This is an annual event coined Week Without Walls, and it is all about learning life lessons outside of the classroom. My initiation into this extraordinary experience was the perfect anodyne for the newbie blues; super sophomores and interesting and entertaining colleagues paired with fantastic food and a dose of real China has my spirits lifted. I must show you a bit of what the week looked like ...

On Monday we flew into Lijiang, a town in Yúnnán province described as "a fairyland blessed with fresh air, clear streams, breathtaking snowy mountains, and an undisturbed landscape." No false advertising here; Lijiang lives up to it all. 

Old Town Lijiang
photo credit: Sophomore Sean, the trip's resident photographer
More of his beautiful photographs are featured throughout this post.

When we arrived to Lijiang's airport, we were met by five enthusiastic Dragonfly staff members. Dragonfly is an organization with a mission to engage students in outdoor education and experiential learning throughout China and Asia. As a teacher, they made my life crazy enjoyable and easy as they had organized the whole week's activities. (They also won my heart as they made the teachers coffee each morning ground from local beans. Even after living in Ecuador for three years, this has been the best coffee to touch my tastebuds.)

The first activity the students were engaged in was a Great Race throughout Old Town. I loved following around my small group to different locations in the city, watching them read maps much better than I do, as we walked on the old stone streets, passing countless quaint storefronts.

The architecture and history of Lijiang was perhaps my first real glimpse into the richness and true beauty of China. And let's note the crystalline blue sky, something I had previously deduced did not exist in this country. How happy I am that I was proven wrong. 

The team building skills the students were honing during this scavenger hunt allowed us to check out the sweet spots in Old Town; this same ability to work as a team would help the students constructively participate in the community service planned for the coming days. 

After completing The Great Race, we piled back into the bus and drove about two hours to Shaxi, another rural town in Yúnnán province. Reflecting back on both Lijiang and Shaxi, I have to christen these picturesque places Boutique Rural. They are indeed a glimpse into #realChina, but other towns and villages must be more rustic and poor, as there are such layers in any country. 

That first night in Shaxi the Dragonfly staff implored the students to develop lesson plans to teach local primary school students about holidays that the SIS students celebrate. The following morning looked a bit like this:

I love these kids, and their smiles. The school children were totally delighted to be learning from our students.

It was a great deal of fun to see the #sissophomores become such natural teachers.

And to see the concentration and happiness on the faces of these beautiful children.

Throughout the day, I was impressed with the way that our students were able to connect with and teach the local children, in spite of a language barrier. Body language and facial expressions go a long way. 

Their may indeed be a budding teacher or two amongst these sophomores. Their talent does extend into the arts as well. The following day we spent from morning into the afternoon painting murals at a nearby kindergarten. Check out how blank canvasses became masterpieces ...

First, a bit of priming ...

Voilà! Welcome to the jungle, kinders!

In a primary school, there is sure to be some monkey business.

SpongeBob had to make his appearance. Had to.

A fabulous representation of the most famous sea creatures.

Maybe one of the students who attends this school will be on that spaceship someday ...

but for now, playing Pirates may seem more fun. Where should we bury the treasure??

As a quick side note, while I was watching the students' imaginations take shape on these walls, a pig was slaughtered right outside the school. This is #Chinaliving. I will spare you all of the details, but I did watch the whole gutting process. That was my schooling for the day.

The community service at these primary schools helped us to ponder more deeply the mark we leave on communities, and the way it feels so good to be part of something bigger than ourselves. We were also privileged enough to hang out in nature and learn more about Chinese culture ...

There was this lovely hike.

A bike ride to see more of the countryside.

At the Old Theatre Inn we watched five traditional dances, and then learned a few ourselves.

(In the midst of these adventures and activities was a lot ... a lot of Chinese food. I never set my chopsticks down long enough to take more #shamelessfoodphotos, so I cannot make your mouths water right now, but I will buy a new pair of pants to indulge in authentic Chinese cuisine.)

And stargazing. This was the most awe-inspiring for many of our students as a good number of them have grown up in big cities like Shenzhen where all kinds of pollution can block the wonders of our galaxy. Here it is in all its glory.

Teachers spend a good deal of time collecting data, using assessments and rubrics to mark student growth. This all has purpose, but I needed none of this during Week Without Walls to understand how my students' minds were expanding. I listened to them rework their holiday lessons when something did not go quite right with one group. I listened to them reflect each night. And I listened to them ask me, "Ms. Baci, how many Wow Moments are you having each day?" The truth is, I lost track. 

I go to bed tonight with a content spirit. I am living in a beautiful country, working with awesome students, befriending brilliant colleagues. 

Cheers to you, SIS Sophomores.

#weekwithoutwalls2016 #sissupersophomores #sisrocks

Once I was seven years old

Lucas Graham, 7 Years, revised

Once I was seven years old, my daddy told me You can be anything that you want to be. Once I was seven years old.

It was a big big world, and I felt so much smaller. The world was pushing my limits, at times I wanted to hide. By eleven worry and fear my self felt a divide
At times unsteady mama and daddy told me take deep breaths Once I was eleven years old, my mama told me Your daddy and I love you and we're here for you. Once I was eleven years old. I started to have that dream like my great grand-dad before me So I started thinking big, set my eyes across the sea Something about the challenge, just always seemed to draw me Cause only those I really love will ever really know me

Once I was twenty years old, my story started to unfold Before the Spanish sun, when life was lonely. Once I was twenty years old. I only see my goals, I don't believe in failure. Cause I know the smallest pushes, they can strengthen my spirit I got my friends with me at least those in favor
And if we don't meet before I leave, I know I'll see you later.

Once I was 20 years old, my story started to unfold I was thinking about everything, I saw before me Once I was 20 years old. Soon we'll be 40 years old, our stories still unfold I'm traveling around the world and I'm still roaming. Soon we'll be 40 years old. I'm still learning about life
My nieces bring me so much joy
Got so many friends who love me Now we're in each other's stories
Sweet nights with my grandmothers
Teach me so much of their wisdom
Fill me with faith and peace And remind me where I'm from

Soon I'll be 50 years old, my daddy got 58 Remember life and then your life becomes a better one
I make the man so happy when he sees me gettin' stronger
I hope that we will all meet again, once or twice on this path Soon I'll be 40 years old, will I think the world is cold
Or will I remember your beauty in the darkness Soon I'll be 50 years old Soon I'll be 60 years old, will I think the world is cold Or will I remember your beauty in the darkness Soon I'll be 40 years old Once I was seven years old, my mama told me Your daddy and I love you and we're here for you. Once I was seven years old Once I was seven years old

Life with Chinese Characteristics, Chapter 3: You pack yourself wherever you go

I am sitting at my kitchen table this Saturday afternoon, devouring a sweet cantaloupe while I page through today's purchase: my first adult coloring book. I bought the Enchanted Forest Inky Quest and Colouring Book, along with a very nice set of colored pencils, today when I was near to tears simply because the bookstore in the China mall had books ... only in Chinese. Mmm, correction, the bookstore did carry Orwell's 1984 in English. The same 1984 that is sitting near my bed that I haven't opened in weeks because, dude, that book is dark, too dark for my state of mind right now. Sigh. China moments and first world problems.

So, I am sitting here, kind of slumped over the table, scratching my head, squinting into the past when I was packing eight weeks ago, preparing for my arrival to Shenzhen. I do remember carefully rolling up ... no, I remember Linds and Cass carefully rolling up a number of pairs of shorts, shirts, some cute dresses and a number of pairs of shoes, and laying them neatly in my suitcase. I do distinctly remember adding almond butter, many bars of dark Ecuadorian chocolate, the Asian robe from NieNie's closet, and my heart shaped measuring spoons that Gram gave me some years ago. And my teddy bear, my companion since the day that I was born. Yes, I remember all of those things getting zipped up into my red suitcases. What I really do not recall, though, is packing my anxiety. Really, I  mean, I've been concerned about early onset Alzheimers, and now this is kind of more fuel for that fire, because I thought I remembered leaving my anxiety on some high Andean mountain. Yeah, Alli, correct me if I am wrong, but didn't that get left to freeze at the top of Cayambe?

It turns out, apparently not. For a woman who has such a good sense of self, I sometimes marvel at how I have to learn things about myself time and time again. Mom and Dad are not surprised when I call home, weepy and worried. Me, though, I keep thinking and hoping that I've conquered my anxiety, scared it away, or stomped it down. But, as it stands, here I am again, trying to figure out how to talk sense to the side of myself that thinks ...

What's that noise outside my door? Wait, did that come from my balcony? Shit, how did someone scale up 17 floors ... Remember, Jamie, Michelle said if someone could get on your balcony, he must be Superman, and in that case, you should most definitely invite him in ...

Ah, this is so nice. Yoga really does Zenify my soul. And downward facing dog feels so good on my calves after Body Pump this week ... hey, is that a freckle ... or a mole between my toe? What's the difference again? Crap, what are the ABCs of skin cancer detection again? Asymmetry, border irregularity ... ugh, I don't remember the rest ...

Grrr, are my eyes getting even worse? I've never been to an ophthalmologist. Does the Costco optometrist really know what he's doing? What if I have a degenerative eye disease and I go blind by my 34th birthday? Will Nat and Gia be willing to take care of a blind auntie? ...

What? My air quality app says that Beijing offers better air to breath than Shenzhen again? So today it's like smoking 3/4 of a cigarette, yesterday was a half of a cigarette, times this all by two or more years ...  To what extent will this affect the color of my lungs?! ... Where's my Cuban cigar? ...

Mom said the cyst wouldn't get to be the size of an egg. But, Mom, it is. It is precisely the size of a quail egg, I just measured ...

Okay, put on your brave face. You are going to have surgery to remove the cyst. The doctors in Hong Kong are world class, so what luck you are just right across the bay, so, it ain't no thang ... except ... except last time you had a cyst removed Mom was with you ... and why is my body so cyst-y? ... cysts on my ovaries, cysts in my feet ... what's next? ...

Oh my gosh, what if they have to remove the Morton's Neuroma too, and the nerve gets messed up. For the rest of my life. Worse than now! ... What if there is actually something wrong with my nervous system. Are Morton's Neuromas part of your nervous system? What if my system is, like, short-circuiting? What if all of my nerves have to be replaced, one by one. How many nerves do we have in our bodies? ... Google ... Gooooogle ...

Charles said maybe I shouldn't put all of my anxieties out there when I am just making new friends. Right, he told me this the weekend we were in Mindo and I was afraid that Michelle could fall through the top bunk onto my bunk and squish me, and I just didn't want to go by Death By Bestie. And now here I am writing all of this anyway. And, sugar, that weekend was after we climbed Cayambe. Even in my happy place of cloud forest hikes and a world-class chocolate factory, I face it ... I really didn't leave my anxiety to crack in the ice after all ...

Are you exhausted now? Because I am. I am positively pooped. How is it I can be so brilliant and wise and witty, and laugh with such a carefree and happy spirit part of the time, and be a complete ball of nerves and worry the other part?

...

As I sit here writing, something is materializing; it's my yin and my yang. It exists all around us, right? Contradictions, inseparable opposites. I haven't put it altogether yet, but somehow it seems anxiety spurs my creativity, pushes me to be stronger, motivates me to find presence in the moment. It makes me uncomfortable and conscientious at times, but perhaps I shouldn't be trying to fight against it. It simply creates a civil war within. So, I'm working on it, working on hugging my whole self, working on being okay that all of the parts of me got packed. Because, really, we all are paradoxes of sorts. I think paradoxes are beautiful.

Photo credit

Life with Chinese Characteristics, Chapter 2: Some Assembly Required

So I do this thing, where I time and again I believe the honeymoon phase won't end, be it in a relationship with a dude, a city, even myself ... nope, nope it won't, not this time around. I've finally figured out the secret to permanent, effortless happiness I muse smugly to myself. And that slightly naive, innocent, sweet thing ... I did it again. I landed in Shenzhen and was welcomed warmly into the Shekou International School community, connected with the other newbies and stared starry-eyed at the exotic store fronts and sniffed my way into restaurants with new smells and flavors. Mmmm, life is divine ... and delicious. Even if it gets a bit harder, what could really break this romantic spell? I mused to myself for three full days. It's rather laughable how loco this looks as I consider it ...

and speaking of loco, why don't the taxi drivers speak Spanish here? I just can't make sense of it. Seriously, how did I land at the wrong international school the first day of school when I so clearly said La escuela se llama Shekou International School, por favor? Oyyy ... spell breaking ... romance fading ...

My head has been swimming with all kinds of confusion. It feels like my brain is just complete porridge up there, sloshing around. So my mind is mush, and I feel utterly fried by the end of most days ... I have to keep looking in the mirror to make sure I don't actually look like the cat that stuck it's paw in the socket, like Einstein without quite that IQ, like a zombie marching into the apocalypse. You may find me dramatic right now, but the struggle is real, my people ... Though the struggle I write of is that of a woman from the first world living in a new land. A struggle that she mindfully chose to invest in. A beautiful struggle.

And certainly the truth of it is that it is not all struggle here in Shenzhen. I've had a sense of belonging from the beginning, my students are stellar, and I've begun finding the cool nooks and crannies independently and with new friends. But in this new world that I have chosen to enter, I do have to assemble a bunch of stuff. To begin, I have to put all of my Ikea goods together ...

Luckily, my new 17th floor apartment was set up with good furniture, so the most complex addition has been a step stool; every bit of space is utilized in my #chinaliving life, floor to ceiling, and I need a way to reach my wine glasses.

While it wasn't such a tricky task, it took some patience and undoing screws because I neglected to peruse the simple directions, but eventually .... voila!

Now I can nearly reach the top shelf.

The real construction, though, comes in building a life anew. It is finding my place in a new school, new city and new culture.

And being me, it also feels I have to reassemble my heart right now, which is missing Ecuador, missing home, missing feeling like my more sensible self (the self that does not get manicures and pedicures weekly, order groceries for delivery, and read a whiteboard aloud to her new principal exclaiming "Oh, cool, you have metaphor groups!" for him to reply, "That says mentor groups."). It is my most sensitive self that shows right now, but as I've reflected before, it is that side that allows me to love me and to love you the way that I do. It is that grand part of my being that holds moments and memories in my heart, making me laugh and cry and smile. And it is this sensitive and soulful side that is allowing me tap into the beauty of a new place, full of coffee shops, restaurants and parks to explore. And full of friendships beginning to flower.

And the thing is, if we all sit and ponder our most treasured relationships, the truth we arrive at is that it is only once the honeymoon ends that the real depth is discovered. In Ecuador, only when my initial wonderment wore off, and I sifted through a bunch of muck, that I felt how much the whole experience -- the city, the country, the people, the travel -- was stirring my soul.

So a bit more patience here is needed. And some wisdom from Mia Togo, one of my favorite myyogaworks yogis, may be heeded: Breathe into those difficult moments. The brain and the mind, when they get uncomfortable, they want to run away or disconnect. This is where we learn to stay present in that challenge. The body is that metaphor. How do we hold our body, even when it's a little bit of a struggle?

You nailed it, Mia. The tough stuff I am in now, it's good tough, it-won't-break-me but grow-me-stronger tough.

And in the midst of the tough stuff, we're still gifted with such beauty ...

That moment when a rainbow shines over Shekou the same moment it shines back home. #lovelife #breathdeeply #greatgratitude
photo credit: Laura Brice

Now, as I ponder assembling my weekend, I feel I should get some sleep. I miss your faces. 

Love from Shenzhen,

Jame

Life with Chinese Characteristics, Chapter 1: The Typhoon

It is noon on Tuesday and I am sitting on a chair in my hotel room watching the rain outside of the window as I sip my imported Earl Grey tea. We had a full day of hospital visits and Bayside campus exploring on the agenda, but all of the day’s activities have been canceled. I thought that my first post from China would be about some culinary experience (and not just the one you can have by buying sushi flavored potato chips at 7 Eleven), but it seems that Chinese Surprise first hit not in the form of some wicked stomach bug, but in the form of a typhoon. It tackled Hong Kong hard and then made its very, very windy way to Shenzhen. This is China living, friends. This is welcome to your new home. I left Ecuador, land of earthquake and volcano drills, for the land of heavy, heavy rain. South America did help me to acquire a bit more “go-with-the-flow-ness,” though, so I am rather enjoying this day where I slept in later, worked out, Facetimed with Linds, and have since putzed around the hotel room. 

I tried to capture the typhoon that I watched with wide eyes at breakfast, and while I was in the workout room, but these photos do it no justice. I fear I would have been blown to Hong Kong if I had stepped into the wind … or at least quite seriously to the bayside. It was both fascinating and frightening …

Check out the tree on the right and you will notice how the wind is bending it.

When school is called for rain and wind ...

The employees were holding all of the doors shut.

… but this day off has given me some hours to reflect on the first days. Since arriving into Hong Kong and crossing over the border into Shenzhen late Saturday night, I have done a number of things.

To begin, I stayed up for 60 hours. This actually began with not sleeping on the flight over, and then laying wide awake Saturday night … not a wink of sleep to be had. Have I ever known such misery? I suppose, but jet lag is positively wicked. 

The lack of sleep in tandem with the apprehension, excitement and anxiety that comes with beginning anew has led me to be a world class bather. I don’t even usually like baths, but boy am I glad to have packed Epsom salt and essential oils. Add hot water to those two and you’ve got a triple threat against aching feet and tense muscles. 

More delightfully I have met a couple of dozen new people and I am entirely tickled by these new faces. The crew I have come in with is a diverse bunch, both in age and passport country. There are a couple of us single folks, several families and a couple of empty nesters. We come from not just the States originally, but Britain, Sweden, Brazil, France, Myanmar and South Africa. 

We were all greeted by bouquets of roses and a bag of groceries in our hotel rooms. I have happily snacked through a bag of mini Snickers in the past four days. Food is good, but friends are even better, and I am certain that there are so many good souls amidst the new crowd and the returning teachers and staff at SIS. People are bending over backwards to help us feel comfortable and welcome and settled.

And indeed I found a place to call home here! After 27 apartments viewings, I walked into a 17th floor one bedroom that houses furniture that matches and does not have curious aromas. After more than four hours of house hunting, it felt like a notable victory. 

These days have certainly been a pendulum swinging between What have I done with my life? to I make very wise adult decisions. And so it goes … and will continue to be for the coming weeks … and likely months. I am relishing in the fact that my sanity feels quite stable today. Those other country-hoppers out there know just what I mean …

I am off to see who might be hanging out in the lobby here. Signing off from Shenzhen, sending love and hugs to all of my people at home and abroad. 

Quito to Shenzhen ... Siga no más

I felt a bit like F. Scott Fitzgerald titling The Great Gatsby as I was trying to title this blog post. How do I summarize three years in South America? Do I go straightforward with La Vida Ecuatoriana, or sentimental with I take a piece of you with me? Do I pull you in with the more humorous side: I came, I saw, I shat (thank you for your thoughts, Greg Webster)? Or I could err on the conclusive side with Ecuador: The Last Chapter. It was in chatting with Nicole, the namer of all things (like my Chinese cat who I will call Patacón) that a title came to this post. Quito to Shenzhen ... Siga no más.

All's quiet on the Ecuadorian front here this evening as I try to put my thoughts together. I did battle with myself a bit ago ... do I go out or stay in tonight? I'm on a cooking strike; my brain has no room to consider how to put ingredients together in anything edible this week, but it looks like it will be Nutella for dinner because as much as I want to spend time with my people, I am trying to process that this South American chapter is nearly written. I am nearing the conclusion.

In nine days I board the plane bound for my 1st home. Usually it is about this point when I break out my suitcase and begin packing a little something each day in anticipation of the summer really starting. This evening I am simply staring blankly at the unusual disarray that my home has become. Dishes are piling up, the coffee table is full of clutter ... stuff is just floating all around. It is rather indicative of the way apprehension and excitement and a certain sense of mourning are rolling around together inside of me.

For the past several months, I have been trying to memorize the landscape, to commit the view from my apartment window to memory. The way you may gaze at your little boy, trying to remember always exactly the pucker face he makes when sliding a slice of a green grape into his mouth, I have been gazing at the mountains that I can nearly touch from my terrace. Will I remember the way the sun beams in a streak through one of the valleys as it is setting after the rain? And the way that you are amused with your little girl as the mischievous glint in her eyes appears as she creeps towards the dog's tail, and you want to pocket that moment of her exploration for always, I have wanted to zip up in my heart the sounds of my friends' laughter and the shapes of their smiles.

Each night images from the 1st year, 2nd year and this 3rd year float into my consciousness, bringing nostalgia for a place that I have not yet departed from, bringing tears to well up in my eyes, and bringing a smile to turn up the corners of my mouth. In the same fashion that you plan your daughter's graduation as so many memories of piano recitals with their off key chords and melodies dance together towards the sleepless sheep as you lay awake pondering where all that time went.

I think there is sometimes a misconception that people leave a place to find themselves. I was already found when I came abroad three years ago. In fact, that was largely what led me abroad, the ability to listen to myself and my own intuition, the understanding that I do know what I need most. Deep down I knew I needed the travel and culture and trials of life abroad to push my boundaries, my worldview, to grow and evolve. Rumi has these beautiful words: When you let go of who you are, you become what you might be. The essentials of Jamie still exist here. I am still quirky and spunky, and a bit passive-aggresive in true Midwestern fashion, and sometimes anxious, and, of course, still obsessed with chocolate. But what I have let go of, what I have largely shed, are insecurities, those pesky self-doubts and residual uncertainties left over from my 20s.

As we are reflecting on experiences, on entire epocas de nuestras vidas, I think it is important to ask ourselves "What is the takeaway?" I love this question ... so much that by year's end my students groan when they hear me utter the word "reflection" or "reflectionate" as they have endearingly written. Seriously, though, what is your takeaway from the last week ... the last month ... this last whole year? What were your most profound "ah-ha moments," as my sweet student Noor would put it?

As I prepare to set sail from this South American life, I have profoundly learned how important it is to fall in love with yourself. My time here has largely been about deepening my relationship with myself. Just as I did not see Quito as so lovely when I first landed, I saw so many flaws in myself as well. But, as time went on, I began to see more of the beauty around the city. I forgave Quito her flaws and quirks -- all of those buildings under construction, the smog that puffed out of the back of the buses, the inefficient lines at Supermaxi -- and I fell in love with Parque Metropolitano and Carolina and the mountains that surround this city. And the thing is, both the flaws and the beauty are always there, juxtaposed against one another, but my eyes no longer pick at those blemishes and shortcomings. In a similar manner, I arrived to Quito, well into my 31st year, with those insecurities from my 20s clinging like a sticky residue. Am I pretty enough, smart enough and strong enough still hung around me like stale air at times. But with the weeks, I observed myself problem-solving, learning, growing and evolving, and the self-doubts have largely been wiped away, leaving a mirror free of smudges and streaks, revealing a truer reflection. Rumi comes in again as he articulately said "Close your eyes, fall in love, stay there." It is liberating to sit here and be able to confidently write that I love my smile and my body, my spirit and my strength so wholly.

I think oftentimes we are waiting for the next big thing to come along -- the nearly perfect person, the next big break, the next best job. As it turns out, I am the next big thing, and I've really come into my life. That's a big takeaway ... a fantastic takeaway.

As I begin to pack up my cozy Ecuadorian apartment, and as I begin to say nos vemos to my treasured friends, the following is a tribute, a grand salud, to the moments and memories, and faces and places that have made Ecuador one kick-ass, keep me on my toes, drop me on my booty, stir my soul and grow my heart experience ...

Cue Pharell Williams here, because Happy was my first year ... and 2nd year ... and 3rd year ... and happy is life.

Year One

My first trek with Paypahuasi to summit the four peaks of Pichincha did inspire a true love for these Andes.
Gaze into that horizon: never was a clearer vista seen atop this active volcano.

Hannah and Eric came back from Christmas with me to celebrate the New Year in Quiteño fashion.

Michelle hosted her birthday party. Her home turned French cafe was still the best dinner party I have attended.

Another of this night to note that there were indeed moments in this dry country that I was surrounded by handsome men.

Cuyabeno, the part of the jungle where you can catch monkeys having a smoke.

Summiting Imbabura with Alli and Andy -- our treks together were inevitably sleety and snowy, but spent in great company.

Ah, the Bachelor Pad. The site of many shimmies.

The best beach vacation award goes to Puerto Lopez. This was reason 97 that I knew
Michelle and I will be lifelong friends. Food fears us.

Mindo. The land of chocolate and ginger beer and the end of year despedida.

... and sometimes after eating too much chocolate the shenanigans turn to this. 

Year Two

A year that began with a trip to Argentina with my NieNie. There were many magical moments,
but our 8-hour cooking class in Medoza with Jose takes the cake.

Room with a view. My apartment for the 2nd and 3rd year has taken my breath away daily.

Sunsets have been sensational.

Bacichx together in Ecuador ... I got them to visit by bribing them with shopping trips to Otavalo and Cotacachi. ;)

Mascarilla for Melisa's (Ana's niece) Quinceañera.

Dinner parties with this bunch: <3.

Mom and Dad's 2nd trip to Ecuador landed us in the Galapagos with the Reuter's and Saumweber's
... allowing us to set our eyes on ancient tortoises ...

and besitos between mamas and babies (photo credit Bruce Rueter) ...

and the famed Blue-footed Booby, (photo credit Bruce Reuter) and so much more ... 

When Gina came to visit, ceviche in Guapalo made us this happy.

Quaint Cuenca. Get your Panama Hat here!

Mery, first my Spanish teacher, and then mi querida amiga. Eres una tesora, Mery.

Year 3

Those Saturday mornings when you can wake up, grab a happy camper, and hike up Rucu.

Just enough cooks in the kitchen ... cooking in the ocean air of Portete ...

... after having swum in the warm water while watching the sun set.

Corazón and the celebratory chocolate we looked forward to at each summit.

Cayambe. All the way to the cumbre. I still get butterflies looking at this and pondering our feat.

That time I led us up a creek in Vilcabamba after our weekend got extended because we could not fly out of Loja due to high winds and then Michelle had to figure out how to get us back to the hostel. Boom.

I finally got Dad onto some Ecuadorian mountains. Rucu again.

A trip to the hospital didn't keep Gram down for long. An extended vacation meant more dinners and a trip to Old Town. 

Fancy cocktail parties with this goofy crew. ¡Voy a extrañarles muchísimo!

I am at a loss for how to even caption this to capture the marvel of this trip. Machu. Picchu.

Pillars of Light, part of the democratic architecture in Medellin.

Sue, the saver of my school sanity, and Chris, the Grandma appointed Handsome Man.

Nicole and Lolita in our favorite park filled with fresh air and eucalyptus trees.

Nothing makes the earth seem so spacious as to have friends at a distance; they make the latitudes and the longitudes.
--Henry David Thoreau

Cheers to Quito and to soulful friendships, to loving and to life ... 

and to a Sojournista's continued life abroad.

Siga no más

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You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart will always be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place.

--Miriam Adeney