Distance traveled more than 3500 miles, and we’re not even halfway there. Not even halfway, and I’ve been on the plane for nearly 7 hours. Where are we? What time is it? Suddenly everything is relative and meaningless. The little blue screen shows that we are somewhere over the Berents Sea. Quite unexpectedly, we have headed over the top of the globe, and I have no sense of place. I feel completely disconnected from my life. I am cut off, and it is beginning to sink in.
Somewhere down there, life goes on without me. Somewhere down there my new grandson is receiving his world just as it is presented. I, too, am trying simply to be present, but it is so hard after all these years. Zen is zen; zen is not zen.
All day yesterday I was with some of my favorite people and doing my favorite things. The Pre-Scholars Institute has rolled back around, and staff training has begun. We ended the day with an exercise called “Tell me a Story”; the professional staff shared their stories with the student staff through clumsily drawn pictures. Four quadrants. The beginning, the middle, the present, the future vision. It reminds me greatly of the format in The Program where we share our stories: what we used to be like, what happened, and what we are like now. As I share my story with students who barely know me, and who will draw conclusions based on a guarded narrative, I struggle to be authentic. Authentic enough; sincere enough. Avoid the impulse to be entertaining. I choke up unexpectedly talking about the bravery of my mother; her sense of adventure.
Somewhere down there, training goes on without me. I have made another choice. I chose to give my power away, and now I am hurtling across the sky, uncomfortable, and tamping down the sense of dread that Jon finds so annoying. So do I.
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Eight hours later, we landed. Moments from the runway, my seatmates relented and opened the window shades. We were coming in over the water. Chinese fishing vessels! The very ones I used challenge the kids to swim toward!
The exoticism I had expected was nowhere to be found. The airport could have been any airport. The ride to the hotel took place on a major highway peppered with cars bearing US brand names. The signs have English as well as Chinese directions on them. Not what I expected.
The hotel is a former Hilton, and very nice. But the view from my window is horrid. Grey skys and smog. Tall grey buildings that seem to go on forever. And no people. Where are all the people?
Last night we went to dinner in the hotel. Caterpillar fungus was on the menu, but I did not order it. Three waitstaff stood just a few feet from our table and stared at us intently through the entire meal. Each time they filled my tea cup I said, “xiexie”, and they each replied “you are welcome”.
This morning I got up early and went to breakfast alone. The hardest meal of the day in a foreign land. I remembered being in India, suddenly, and became instantly homesick for an English muffin with peanut butter and jelly. The people at the tables next to me seemed to be eating soup in big white bowls that they picked up with their hands. Some very clear broth with many green vegetables in it.
In a short while, I leave for my first business meeting. I have a sense of dread, but I have been practicing my Chinese in my room. At the other end of the listening device, I imagine The People nodding to themselves and saying, “Not bad”. I am having a terrible time remembering any of it. I THINK I have mastered the phrase for “I am happy to meet you”, but only by acting out the phrase as it sounds in Engrish — wao hen gao xin jian dao ni. – which I practice in the mirror, hand signals and all as (hand thrust out in the “stop” position to start): “Whoa hand. Go! Shin, chin dao knee.” Hand out to stop; point finger to go; point to shin; point to chin; point to God; point to knee. Not sure I can do it without the gestures. Could be interesting…
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As soon as I tried my Chinese out on our hostess, she cut me off. “You no speak Chinese.” She said dismissively. “ No one understand you. You just speak English. You say ni hao; that’s it.” I am crushed.
All day in my mind I kept practicing, looking for my chance to blurt out my phrase:
Whoa hand go; shin-chin-dow-knee. Never struck up the nerve. But we did end up in the heart of Shanghai last night. The most spectacular city I have ever seen. Makes New York look tiny.
I just wanted to go home.
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Add duck tongue to the list of things I have eaten that I did not want to. I feel so guilty. And just last night I was telling a student group that my Chinese name is Duc. I felt I had to. They introduced themselves and then added their American names – William (who told me he was a soldier – turns out he meant surgeon – Engrish not good), Clement, Flora, George and Johnson.
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I am stunned to realize this is only day three. I feel I have been here for months. I have already developed a routine, which is to stuff myself at breakfast with as much starch as I can find in the hotel buffet – pancakes, toast, waffles, cereal – as a kind of apology to my stomach for what it will be facing the rest of the day. Then I meet my contingent in the lobby, usually a minute or two late (most unlike me) causing our Chinese host to clap his hands in annoyance when he sees me, barking “Go now” as he briskly leads us to the door.
Our host is an enigma. I cannot figure him out. He does not seem to speak any English. Seems a bit crabby. Very generous with his time and money, and everywhere we go he is treated like royalty. Last night he took us to a production of Mamma Mia (with a Chinese cast and in Chinese, of course) where we entered through a special door, sat in the front, and then were whisked away through a side door. We jumped in our van and our driver nearly mowed the crowd down as we left. I don’t get it.
I did have the opportunity to show off my knowledge of Chinese history yesterday to the president of a university we were visiting. He started the conversation by berating us for wanting to bring his students to the US when it is our educational system that is failing. He mentioned that he knows everything about the US, but we know nothing about China. Later, at lunch, one of the delicacies we were served was duck’s tongue, and he launched into a story about how a former Chinese Empress used to eat only duck tongues and the webs between their toes. I asked, “Are you referring to the Empress XiXi?” And, of course, he was. I then talked about the Han people, how character writing unified Chinese culture, the river systems that caused sophisticated trade to develop nationally. I think I made a friend. A friend who is fond of duck tongue.
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Yesterday was delightful and grueling. In the morning, we went to see a beautiful Ming dynasty (1500s) home that has been preserved in the Old City part of Shanghai. I was surprised at how emotional I felt, seeing first hand the things that I have only read about and imagined. It was amazing. From there we went to an endless lunch – probably close to 20 dishes brought out and added to the giant spinning serving platter in agonizing slow motion. Everyone spoke Chinese and made endless toasts to one another. For the first time, I refused to let them fill my wine glass. “I don’t drink alcohol.” And it felt important to decide which value was more critical; my total abstinence from alcohol, or their cultural tradition that demanded everyone toast. This was followed by a reception on a boat docked in the river – docked because the largest typhoon in decades was bearing down on the city. But the typhoon was not reason enough to cancel the three-hour, all-Chinese-language-only event. That was followed by the longest dinner we have had yet – probably 30 different dishes that were of the highest culinary art, but I wanted to cry.
Today we had several hours of free time, so I hurried to the front desk first thing this morning to ask directions to the river in order to go for a run.
“You can’t run today. It will rain,” said the young concierge with a frown.
“Uh, tomorrow then. Just looking for directions”
He squinted at me uncertainly. “You can’t walk there. You have to take subway.”
“Ok, then. Where’s the subway?”
He seemed troubled, but got out a map. Just then, the husband of our leader, a native of China, came walking up and wanted to know what I was doing. He shared the concierge’s concern.
“It’s raining. You can’t do that.”
“Well, I am just interested in knowing how to get to the river anyway,” I said, trying to keep my tone even, but with a rising feeling of desperation. I HAD to get out of there. This might be my only chance this entire trip to get out on my own.
He really is a very nice man, and eventually he took me outside to point out the subway entrance to me. He also handed a card I could use to ride the subway; an “entra” one, he said. He then followed me into the dining room to join me for breakfast. I went to the buffet line , and when I returned his wife, the one who has forbidden me to practice my Chinese phrases on real Chinese, had joined us.
“Ah, good morning,” I said brightly. “Zao chen hao!”
“Yes. Good morning.” She frowned. “This card my husband gave you. You must give it back. It is mine. I need it.”
“Oh! Of course.”
Her husband seemed very embarrassed. “I forgot it was hers. She needs it to go visit friends today.”
“And besides,” she said. “You cannot take subway. You will get lost. You want to go, you take taxi.” She repeated this admonition over and over as I ate my breakfast. I kept nodding at her in a non-committal way. As soon as she was gone, I went to my room, changed into my running clothes, and headed to the subway.
Public transportation makes me so happy. I feel free. I feel like one of the people. I feel independent. I feel smart and clever just for figuring it out. I began to relax for the first time since I got here. I went for a wonderful run in the rain as close to the river as I could get. I listened to “Wayfaring Stranger” as I ran, and tears welled up.
Later I took my boss out with me on the subway, and we went shopping in the Old City. We talked trash about our trip leader. We went to lunch and ordered hamburgers and fries.
In 10 minutes we leave for another banquet. My spirits are sinking again.
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I have now been here for a week and a day. A transformation is taking place. I like the food, for the most part. I am beginning to recognize what is terrible and what is “very delicious”. I like the city; it no longer seems so strange as I recognize landmarks and know where I am. The dinner on Sunday night turned out to be fantastic. A very wealthy host entertained us in a private dining room at the top of one of the tallest buildings with a panoramic view of the Shanghai skyline. Breathtaking.
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This morning we are in the airport, waiting to take off for an interior province – Jiangxi – which, one of our hosts told us, is nicknamed “the furnace” because it is so hot there. After sweltering for a week in Shanghai, it is hard to imagine any place hotter or more humid. I swear Mumbai was not this bad, and that was awful.
I am developing a peacefulness about the trip, however. I am open, and willing to learn from the experience. Teach me, oh God, what you would have me know. Thank you for all these many gifts.
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Nanchang was amazing. We visited a temple that was built during the Tang dynasty (actually been rebuilt quite a few times), and where the ancient poet Weng Bo penned his famous lines. The University we visited was anxious to work with us – very different from most of the folks in Shanghai. The food was also great – very very spicy. Made me sweat a lot.
Flying back to Shanghai, I looked out the window and saw China. I was suddenly overwhelmed and began to cry. Out of nowhere – the enormity of it all finally hit me. This is China! The land that has fascinated me always. And I am here. Such a blessing.
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We spent two days in Hangchou, capital of the Northern Song dynasty during the 10th, 11th and 12th centuries. Actually my favorite period in Chinese history. The area is quite beautiful – known for its West Lake and Lingyin Temple.
We had a guide, Charlie, who spoke very good English. He was a bit smarmy. Had the typical “Americans know nothing about China” attitude. Was shocked that we had actually heard of the Grand Canal system.
At one point he asked if we knew why Chinese culture began in the North first, and then moved to the South. He insisted that we hazard a guess. Dilemma…
“Well,” I began. “Mostly it is because about 10,000 years ago, as the last ice age retreated, it left very fertile soil in the Yellow River valley to the north. Ideal for grain cultivation. And actually, early Chinese began as a wheat culture. Now later, in the South,…”
He cut me off. “This is very interesting. But actually, it is because the people in the North are bigger, taller, stronger – more warlike. So they fought off the invaders. The people in the south are the smart ones, artists, literature, and so forth. We are also very short, and it is known that short people are the smartest people.” He looked at me pointedly. For the rest of the day I made snide comments about not being able to understand things because I am too tall. Delightful.
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Last five minutes in my hotel room. I am sure there will be time for more reflections on the long flight home.
I took a few minutes this morning to really walk out into the city. Zigzagging up and down some of the narrow back streets. Looking for the China that is in my mind. I think I missed it by about 20 years.
Yesterday a very nice man, his wife, and fourteen year old son spent the day with us. We went to the Shanghai Expo and saw the Chinese Pavillion, had Chinese banquet for lunch, then went to the Oriental Pearl building where we stood in line for hours to take the elevator to the top, then stood in line for hours to take the elevator to the bottom. The young man was very interesting. Together we mourned the loss of Chinese culture. Very quickly the country is taking on the value of capitalism above all else.
There is a bridge into Nanchang guarded by two lions; one white, one black. Our host told us they symbolize capitalism and communism in the new China. “It doesn’t matter if it is a capitalist cat or a communist cat, as long as it catches the mouse.” In this case, the “mouse” is the economic engine of the country.
It was surprising how little anyone knew or cared about Chinese history. Many times my hosts had it wrong. Yesterday, for example, my hosts wife stood in front of an exhibit in the Pavillion. She told me it was an animated depiction of a very famous painting from the Ming dynasty, “about a thousand years ago”.
“Madam,” I said, eyebrow arched, “surely you are mistaken. Either it is from the Song dynasty if it is truly a thousand years ago, or it depicts a 500-year-old scene from the Ming dynasty. Perhaps you can do a better job with your history lessons.”
JK. Didn’t say that. Just showing off. Delightful.
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Distance traveled, according to the glowing blue screen on the seat in front of me, almost 2000 miles and about 6000 to go. We are flying Northeast again, this time over Japan and now over some very northern sea I have never heard of before — Okhotsk. Our trip takes us through the bearing Strait this time. I am following the path of the ancients.
Somewhere down there, the people I love are awakening to Sunday morning. It is a Sunday morning that I have already experienced.. I am traveling back in time as I head toward home. Yesterday I felt very sad at the prospect of leaving China. But now I am excited to be coming back.
So what did I learn on my trip?
The world really is very small. People everywhere are very much alike. Some are jerks, some are nice.
I know a lot about China. Having it come alive was exhilarating. I have composed a series of lectures for the students in the summer program in order to connect them to this fascinating world and help them discover a love of knowledge.
It is hard to sit still on a plane for 14 hours. I can’t wait to see my family again, and I miss Jake.
Coming back. Never felt so good.
And then we landed in Newark. Surly staff, broken escalators, next flight delayed nearly three hours. Shanghai never looked so good…
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2am, Monday, August 15, 2011
Back in my house. “And home sings me of sweet things. My life there has its own ways. Fly over the mountains — though I’m standing still.”
I am overwhelmed with emotion. God is watching us.
