The best part of wakin' up...

is knowing that you can have a steaming mass of skewered ground meat to go with your frothy cup of delicious coffee.

the conundrum of cereal

8:00 a.m.

I am up, coffee in hand and sifting through the accumulation of emails that came in overnight. Among them, one is from a teammate thanking me for my contribution of strawberry banana bread to her long day. Another is from our tech department advising us on new virusware.

And then there's this one from a young man I taught last year and who now frequents our Sunday morning location. It's my favorite:


date: Fri, Mar 9, 2012 at 11:23 PM
subject: Methods of eating corn flakes.

In order to taste something new, I bought a box of corn flakes the other day. However, the problem is that I don't know how to eat it. And I wanna ask you for help. How would people usually eat corn flakes? Do I need some other ingredients?


China, you had me at corn flakes.

four days in a Chinese village: a photo journey

So, a Chinese guy invites an American and a Canadian to the small village where he was born and raised, a village where the presence of blonde hair and western features causes a mild disruption in traffic and conversations among locals.

The story continues with photos.

Duck Tales

My teaching schedule resumed last week after a month and a half of official holiday time. In each of my classes, I dedicated the first several minutes to hearing stories from students. Most echoed one another: I slept a lot, I ate a lot, I played on the computer, I saw my old friends.

One young man, however, had a unique experience. He volunteered to share his story with the class:

I returned to Harbin a few days ago. I decided to ride my bike to the Songhua River. I asked my roommate to go with me, but he didn't want to, so I went by myself. When I got to the Songhua River, I saw that it was still frozen and there were people walking around on it. So, I decided to walk across to the other side. I got off my bike and pushed it across the ice. When I got to the middle of the river, I heard the ice crack and suddenly a big hole opened up, and I fell in.

We all wore the same shocked expressions.

I surveyed the class. "Does anyone have questions? I know I do!" Heads nodded in unison and hands shot up.

Q: How did you escape?
A: Well, my legs fell into the water, but my hands were on the ice, so I pulled myself out.

Q: Was anyone around to help you?
A: No, no one was at that part of the river.

Q: What happened to your bike?
A: I was able to pull it out.

Q: But how? Wasn't the water moving quickly?
A: No, it was very slow. That's why I was able to pull myself and my bike out.

Q: What did you do once you got to the side of the river? Did you tell someone what happened? Did you take a taxi back?
A: No, I rode my back back to the dorm (a good 20-30 minute ride).

Q: But it was near freezing that day! You rode back with wet clothes?
A: Yes. My pants were frozen and covered with ice. That's why I have a cold now.

My shock exhausted any commentary. I told him how glad I was that he survived. Many in China don't know how to swim, and if variables had been slightly different...

But he WAS delivered from danger, and my afternoon was dotted with simple upward expressions of thanksgiving.

A few days later, I was shopping with a friend at a local market whose range of products is dizzying. Within steps of walking through the entrance, my eyes claimed an item that would be destined for the same young man mentioned above: a bright yellow duck float. There was just no way to refuse such a perfect mascot.

Prior to class on Monday, a friend and I found a box large enough to hold my purchase, and we taped it up and applied a mailing label to masquerade it as a legitimate delivery. The friend agreed to keep it in his possession until the start of class, at which point he would knock on the door and hand it over. Let the fun begin.

Monday morning at 10:05, my unexpected delivery arrived right on time. I played dumb and accepted the box with a passable level of confusion. The label, written in Chinese, was addressed to my student from the Songhua Safety Bureau.

"Oh, that's not mine," he said, waving his hand. Surely a mistake.

The students began to gather around the box.

"But your name is on here," I pointed out.

"No no no," he confidently insisted.

A young girl standing next to him examined the label and said, "Is that your phone number that's listed?"

He didn't even look. "Of course nah---Hey! That IS my phone number!" he corrected. His eyes widened in alarm.

I calmly encouraged him. "You should at least open it to see what's inside." No sooner had the suggestion come out of my mouth than a pair of scissors appeared out of nowhere. Collective curiosity was at its apex. Packing tape was sliced and the brown flaps opened to reveal a burst of yellow plastic. As soon as the students peered inside, heads reared back and howls bounced from wall to wall. Our Songhua survivor was no exception. His boyish face was plastered with a grin of absolute delight, and it only took a glance in my general direction to discern who the culprit was.

After class, he came up to me and said, "At the beginning of class, you asked us how we were, and I was actually very sad because the bicycle that I rescued from the river was stolen. I was quite upset about it. But this...I...I am so touched. I'm not sad anymore."

This afternoon, I received an email from him along with some photos:
Thanks for your surprising gift. I'm really happy to receive it. Now it lies on my desk. I show it off in front of my roommates. It is cool! it is a wonderful memory in my life.

keywords: my new BFF

As the account holder of this blog, I can go into my "statistics" menu to see how many people have visited. I do that a few times a week, mostly because I'm no stranger to disappointment. My traffic sources are then dissected by country, by referring sites and by keyword search.

Somehow, somewhere...someone found this blog by keyword search, "give a rip."

There's a modicum of pride there, folks.

four days in a Chinese village: the preface

Imagine that a friend invites you to his village during the long Chinese New year holiday. Imagine you say yes.

Then, imagine you are just days away from departure and you get this photo emailed to you from your host. As you open the attachment, observe the facilities available at his house and then read the caption obviously processed through an online translator, your idea of a sweeping John Steinbeck adventure falls into the same hole over which you will soon be straddling.

along the watchtower

I can't sleep.

But it doesn't matter now because my alarm for 4:25a just went off. Last night, after a long day and a long walk, I went to bed earlier than my grandfather. I had a dream that the angel, Gabriel, visited me. I don't remember his message. He was beautiful, but in a way I didn't imagine.

I woke up around midnight, and my mind never stopped working after that.

Once I concluded that sleep wasn't coming back, I settled down in my favorite chair - my only chair - in my living room. I decided to read what I read yesterday because it's convoluted and wonderfully mysterious.

My favorite part is verse 36: If he comes suddenly, do not let him find you sleeping. (Mark, chapter 13)

Imagine how that resounds with someone who can't explain her insomnia at 3:00 in the morning.

An interview with Traveling Postcards founder Caroline Lovell

Have Fun • Do Good: Traveling Postcards: Interview with Founder, Carol...: "We all carry a desire to be recognized and appreciated, and often it takes only a small gesture of of deep listening or witnessing for a situation of despair to turn to one of hope and resiliency."
~ Caroline Lovell, Founder, Traveling Postcards

right place, right time

This photo, taken last May, won the blue ribbon in its division at our annual Thailand conference. I don't give a rip about the prize. I submitted it on a whim.

This photo STILL makes me laugh.

protocol at 6 pm

Ratchadamnoen Road in Chiang Mai, Thailand, blooms on Sunday night. Located just opposite one of the gates along the old city wall, it's home to the weekly Sunday Night Walking Market, awash in colors and textures and goods for sale, ranging from cooked quail eggs to Thai lanterns. Everyone knows where it is and when it is. Setup begins between 3 and 4 pm, but crowds don't start to swell until after 6, when those looking for cheap and local savories combine with those on the hunt for the perfect souvenir. It can be a test of nerves and patience as the number of pedestrians thickens. If you happen to live in China, though, it feels about right.

At 6 pm, something very interesting takes place. The national anthem of Thailand is played over loudspeakers positioned throughout the market. Locals and repeat tourists know that everything must come to a standstill. I learned that very quickly during my first year in Chiang Mai, and this year, I went back to the market to capture the process.

The first three photos were taken from my position atop the gate. Not much room up there, so watch your feet as much as you watch your lens.

This next photo was taken just as the national anthem began to broadcast. Notice that those who are already at attention (circled for your convenience) seem to be locals or, as in the case of the two in the background, experienced tourists:

And finally, everyone catches on:

An interesting sidestory to this photo essay is that I noticed a woman and, presumably, her daughter, making their way through the crowd as the anthem played. They are in the middle of the photo below. The young woman appears incapacitated in some way. They eventually made their way down the street, and I lost interest, but going back through the photos that I took, I noticed that they appear out of nowhere. I can't find them in any of the shots taken just prior. Maybe I shouldn't watch so many suspense movies; there's always a cryptic photo involved.