I am off to Mongolia for October Holiday tomorrow, but before departing I wanted to share a little bit about the recent festivities for the 60th year anniversary of "New China" !
Mao Zedong of the Communist Party founded the People's Republic of China on October 1, 1949 at Tian'an Men Square in Beijing. This year the celebration was particularly large and encompassing because the number 60 is of particular importance to the Chinese people. The lunar calendar is based in intervals of 12 years, each marked by a different animal in the Chinese zodiac. 60 is often thought to be the "golden" year because it marks an end to five cycles of the zodiac.
Preparation for the parade in Beijing was pretty intense. From about mid September, there have been thousands of volunteers mobilized around the city to "maintain order." The majority of the volunteers are senior citizens or older folks, and I'm not really quite sure what they do. Oftentimes the volunteers sit in groups of two about every 10 meters from each other, and just chat to each other while wearing the red armband that says things like "harmonious society" and "speak civilly". In the subway stations there are also volunteers, telling people to stand behind the line, wait for passengers to get off the train first, etc.
My office is on one of the major streets that was used for the parade, so we had to close down early several times prior to Oct 1st for "practice sessions"--which no one was allowed to watch. All apartments and buildings on the major roads of the parade routes were ordered from September 25 - Oct 3rd to keep windows shut at all times, and one of my friends told me that some residents in these apartments were warned not to stand too close to their windows to look out/take pictures of the parades, otherwise they would be shot!! Not sure if that's completely true... but I do know all the windows were closed on the major routes, whereas before they were often open and some even hanged laundry outside their windows.
A very odd incident occurred three Fridays ago on September 18. I was at a friend's birthday party at one of our favorite bars in the Sanli Tun embassy area, a very crowded couple of small streets that have lots of bars and stores. It was about 11:45pm and I was just leaving to go to a different bar on the other side of the street, but I noticed that the street had been taped off and there were police officers holding riffles every 3 meters. The pedestrian walkway crossing the street was also closed off, and a group of people was gathering on the caution tape, anxious to get to the other side. A little after 12 am we stopped scratching our heads as a procession of heavy artillery tanks rolled down the street. Our jaws dropped as over 50 different vehicles continued to proceed down this major bar avenue at 12am on a Friday evening. We waited for an hour-- the tape wasn't taken down until 1am-- and of course I cursed myself for forgetting to bring a camera-- I should know by now that life in China is unpredictably exciting!
Other odd things that were done in preparation for the parade: all supermarkets were banned from selling knives, subway stations would periodically close without advance warning, and I even heard that all taxis were bugged with listening devices from the evening of September 30 - morning of October 2 (again that may not be true...). Certainly felt very nervous around Beijing, from the large amount of guards/police officers with huge guns to the huge influx of Chinese people waving flags and taking pictures (the city has been even more crowded than usual, if you can believe it). NY Times has an interesting photo collection discussing the preparation / training of guards and parade participants-- some pretty brutal training that has been going on for almost 8 months!
I biked to Tian'an Men square the evening before the parade, just to check out what was going on and see the stage-- especially since I was warned by many to not even try to get near to central Beijing/Tian'an men on the actual day of the 1st. There were guards standing every 3 meters again, standing in complete stillness and watching for any type of "trouble". My friend told me that guards were standing on the entire length of the parade route from 10pm - 10am, the start of the actual parade on the 1st. We passed hundreds of cops on the way to Tian'an men, some standing at make-shift "emergency booths" with wired telephones and medical supplies.
When we arrived to the square, we again saw hundreds of police officers marching around the stage and between the massive columns that had been erected for celebrating 60 years of communist rule. There were also about 50 or so onlookers, like me and my friend, who had came to the Square at 12am just to take a peak at the magnificence prepared for the next day. These people were all snapping pictures and just gazing on at the huge columns, standing pressed up against the newly erected white fence separating the road (in between Forbidden Palace and Tian'an Men square, where the columns were) and the pedestrian area. About once every couple minutes, a police officer would come over with a megaphone and say, "OK, keep moving," and they would move another few meters down the pedestrian walk in front of the Forbidden Palace, and then stop and gaze-- only for the same cop to come by again and say, "Let's go people, keep moving." It was like it was an obvious chore for the cop to push people along, but he recognized that they just wanted to soak up the excitement for the next day...
That night the weather was reallllly nasty. Beijing smog x28303-- really hazy and unclear. An article in the Guardian mentioned China's massive cloud-seeding plans for the parade-- the Chinese government has organized eighteen cloud-seeding aircraft and 48 fog-dispersal vehicles to intercept rainclouds that might “interfere” with the festivities. Relying on the same “cloudbusting” techniques implemented last year during the Olympic Games, rain-dispersal rockets that pump clouds with silver iodide or liquid nitrogen will be used to clear the skies. And wow it worked--! Yesterday, and even today, the skies were an uncommon blue, really pretty amazing.
I watched the actual parade on TV with three of my friends. Malkom and Molly kindly offered their apartment for watching the parade live, which was a lucky choice because they live on the North side of the city, so the subway was still running to their apartment. I attached some pictures here that I took of the television. It was a really amazing 2 hour show-- actually completely held my attention, hahaha... I'm a sucker for mass calisthenics; the parade often reminded me of the Mass Games of North Korea, but smaller in scale and content (sorry that video is kinda lame, but still some great footage). Also, funny to note that every single channel available on the television was playing the parade, no matter what type of channel (e.g., cooking channel) it was. Oh, the power of state-owned television/everything.
But don't just stop with these photos, take a look at this link-- by far the best footage I've seen of the parade: http://www.dslrnewsshooter.com/2009/10/01/shooting-chinas-60th-anniversary-parade-with-the-7d-5dmkii-and-nikon-d700/
Really amazing stuff. Unfortunately the internet is not working and I can't seem to attach any pictures :( Perhaps I'll try again when I'm back from my trip. Enjoy the above links though!
Friday, October 2, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Hutong Hunting
Hutong Hunting
I’ve now completed my 7th week at NRDC in Beijing, and for the most part I’ve scoped out all the good local eats near our office building with my coworkers. We are very fortunate to be located in an area of Beijing that still has several surrounding 胡同hutong, or traditional alleyways. These alleyways are a great glimpse into the old architectural style (and in many ways, lifestyle) of Beijing, but they are rapidly being demolished for the construction of massive buildings (like my office).
Hutong also are known for having many family-run, extremely local restaurants serving simple (but delicious) Chinese cuisine—often offering various regional specialties. Many of the food vendors are mobile; they serve breakfast for a strict 2 hour period before clearing out (I’m not sure where they go, especially some of the rather large carts), and then appear again for a 2 hour block for lunch before disappearing again.
On Friday, my coworker Sara and I decided to go to one of our favorite noodle restaurants in the hutong. We went a bit later than usual, about 1pm, and we were surprised to see how empty the alley was. Outside the restaurant all tables were gone, but we didn’t think much of it and decided to go inside and order noodles.
It was very eerie in the tiny restaurant (it’s really just a single room with perhaps 7 or 8 tables and some stools—there are two doors with windows on them, but other than that no lights). There were perhaps 5 other customers, either eating in silence or waiting for their dishes in silence. The one waitress asked us what we wanted and then told the single cook in the back room.
My noodles were soon brought out, and as we continued to wait for Sara’s noodles, still slightly confused about the stale atmosphere (usually it’s very loud and bustling), suddenly both doors closed and the blinds (a single sheet) were drawn over the door-windows—it was nearly pitch black. The waitress pulled the sheet aside an inch, peering out anxiously, and then turned around and shouted “EVERYONE EITHER GET IN THE CLOSET OR GET OUT OF HERE!”
Sara and I probably looked like deer in the headlights, utterly unaware of what was going on. Some patrons exited the restaurant while others grabbed their noodles and walked into the even darker back room—all the while continuing to shove noodles into their mouths. Sara and I laughed and decided to take our noodles to go, still not aware of what was happening. We left our money on the table, as the waitress was busy cleaning off all the tables and picking up any trash that would make it appear that anyone was eating there.
When we returned back to our office and asked some of our coworkers who are from Beijing, they suggested that the restaurant probably did not have a certificate/authorization (许可证) to be running a restaurant; a police officer or other inspection agent was most likely seen down the alleyway. If the inspecting agent found that there were people eating in the room, he could ask for the certificate—not being able to procure it could result in jail time.
As the 60th anniversary of the Chinese Communist Party approaches on October 1st this year, the central government has been cracking down on a lot of these little home-owned, “illegal” restaurants. One of my coworkers suggested that because these types of restaurants don’t file taxes, the government is trying to eliminate them—especially given that a new 4 trillion yuan stimulus package has just been approved and allocation of funds depends on local business’s tax revenue, et cetera.
I’m not sure what this will mean for the major food hot spot for probably over 2000 office workers in the area; perhaps after National Day everything will return to normal. Either way, I can always count on an adventure during even just a normal meal in China.
(Pictures to come soon I hope...)
I’ve now completed my 7th week at NRDC in Beijing, and for the most part I’ve scoped out all the good local eats near our office building with my coworkers. We are very fortunate to be located in an area of Beijing that still has several surrounding 胡同hutong, or traditional alleyways. These alleyways are a great glimpse into the old architectural style (and in many ways, lifestyle) of Beijing, but they are rapidly being demolished for the construction of massive buildings (like my office).
Hutong also are known for having many family-run, extremely local restaurants serving simple (but delicious) Chinese cuisine—often offering various regional specialties. Many of the food vendors are mobile; they serve breakfast for a strict 2 hour period before clearing out (I’m not sure where they go, especially some of the rather large carts), and then appear again for a 2 hour block for lunch before disappearing again.
On Friday, my coworker Sara and I decided to go to one of our favorite noodle restaurants in the hutong. We went a bit later than usual, about 1pm, and we were surprised to see how empty the alley was. Outside the restaurant all tables were gone, but we didn’t think much of it and decided to go inside and order noodles.
It was very eerie in the tiny restaurant (it’s really just a single room with perhaps 7 or 8 tables and some stools—there are two doors with windows on them, but other than that no lights). There were perhaps 5 other customers, either eating in silence or waiting for their dishes in silence. The one waitress asked us what we wanted and then told the single cook in the back room.
My noodles were soon brought out, and as we continued to wait for Sara’s noodles, still slightly confused about the stale atmosphere (usually it’s very loud and bustling), suddenly both doors closed and the blinds (a single sheet) were drawn over the door-windows—it was nearly pitch black. The waitress pulled the sheet aside an inch, peering out anxiously, and then turned around and shouted “EVERYONE EITHER GET IN THE CLOSET OR GET OUT OF HERE!”
Sara and I probably looked like deer in the headlights, utterly unaware of what was going on. Some patrons exited the restaurant while others grabbed their noodles and walked into the even darker back room—all the while continuing to shove noodles into their mouths. Sara and I laughed and decided to take our noodles to go, still not aware of what was happening. We left our money on the table, as the waitress was busy cleaning off all the tables and picking up any trash that would make it appear that anyone was eating there.
When we returned back to our office and asked some of our coworkers who are from Beijing, they suggested that the restaurant probably did not have a certificate/authorization (许可证) to be running a restaurant; a police officer or other inspection agent was most likely seen down the alleyway. If the inspecting agent found that there were people eating in the room, he could ask for the certificate—not being able to procure it could result in jail time.
As the 60th anniversary of the Chinese Communist Party approaches on October 1st this year, the central government has been cracking down on a lot of these little home-owned, “illegal” restaurants. One of my coworkers suggested that because these types of restaurants don’t file taxes, the government is trying to eliminate them—especially given that a new 4 trillion yuan stimulus package has just been approved and allocation of funds depends on local business’s tax revenue, et cetera.
I’m not sure what this will mean for the major food hot spot for probably over 2000 office workers in the area; perhaps after National Day everything will return to normal. Either way, I can always count on an adventure during even just a normal meal in China.
(Pictures to come soon I hope...)
Sunday, August 16, 2009
FG$
Buddhism, like every organized religion, relies heavily on donors for financial support. Even a brief visit to FoGuang Shan(FGS)'s monastic compound in Kaohsiung would make clear that the donations are put to good use:
A picture of a picture of the FoGuang Shan Kaohsiung monastic "complex"
This monastery had two art museums, a television station, a bookstore, a nun's college, a monk's college, an English college, multiple 500 seat theaters, the Great Buddha Land (photos in "quick pics"), four temples to the Bodhisattvas, a dormitory for orphans, a senior citizen's home, several meditation halls, and a "Pure Land Cave." (I'm sure I'm leaving things out, too.)
I wanted to share a bit about the "Pure Land Cave" because I thought it was really... interesting. Take a look at this short clip I took inside:
A nun told us what inspired the creation of the Pure Land Cave: the Venerable Master (founder of FGS) visited It's a Small World Afterall in DisneyLand.
It is pretty wild. Tells the entire story of the Buddha's life as well as has visual representations of the Bodhisattvas and important Arhats. Compassionate, Cheerful Enlightened Beings were jumping out of lotus flowers every 15 seconds, before electronically receding back into the ground, right next to Bambi and some friendly squirrels.
The idea must be something about accessibility... trying to present Buddhism in a fun, friendly, interactive, and lively (albeit mechanical) way that young children and their grandparents can both enjoy and appreciate.
But it all felt a little... excessive?
Especially in Kaohsiung, where the compound is literally on a hill overlooking the city and surrounding tenements--many of which were in extremely poor condition with tin roofs and crumbling walls. I was initially only shocked by the wealth of FGS, but it got to a point where I was almost suspicious about how and why funds were allocated to beautification of the monastic grounds, or for veneration of the Venerable Master (there was a life-size wax model of him in one building; his picture and/or a lifesize bust of him could also be found in just about every building).
After asking a couple of my friends and speaking with our venerable of discipline, I began to understand that monastics view places such as the Pure Land Cave as tools to bring people to the Dharma (law of Buddhism); a walk through the Pure Land Cave has the potential to inspire someone to be compassionate, to treat others fairly, to practice--even if in a little or small way--some part of Buddhism in one's daily life. Furthermore, I realized it's out of line for me to make value judgments about how much money or how much funding should be allocated for veneration of the Buddha, or the Venerable Master. Because I am not Buddhist, I cannot grasp the gravity that these figures have in the minds of Buddhist practitioners. And in any regard, getting caught up in the physical materiality of the FGS campus ignores the fact that FGS engages in so many relief and education programs across the world.
To say the least, living at such a wealthy temple challenged my assumptions about the "Buddhist monastic lifestyle" (if one such single category exists). And it also helped me realize the various avenues that modern Buddhism takes to penetrate the lay community.
A picture of a picture of the FoGuang Shan Kaohsiung monastic "complex"
This monastery had two art museums, a television station, a bookstore, a nun's college, a monk's college, an English college, multiple 500 seat theaters, the Great Buddha Land (photos in "quick pics"), four temples to the Bodhisattvas, a dormitory for orphans, a senior citizen's home, several meditation halls, and a "Pure Land Cave." (I'm sure I'm leaving things out, too.)
I wanted to share a bit about the "Pure Land Cave" because I thought it was really... interesting. Take a look at this short clip I took inside:
A nun told us what inspired the creation of the Pure Land Cave: the Venerable Master (founder of FGS) visited It's a Small World Afterall in DisneyLand.
It is pretty wild. Tells the entire story of the Buddha's life as well as has visual representations of the Bodhisattvas and important Arhats. Compassionate, Cheerful Enlightened Beings were jumping out of lotus flowers every 15 seconds, before electronically receding back into the ground, right next to Bambi and some friendly squirrels.
The idea must be something about accessibility... trying to present Buddhism in a fun, friendly, interactive, and lively (albeit mechanical) way that young children and their grandparents can both enjoy and appreciate.
But it all felt a little... excessive?
Especially in Kaohsiung, where the compound is literally on a hill overlooking the city and surrounding tenements--many of which were in extremely poor condition with tin roofs and crumbling walls. I was initially only shocked by the wealth of FGS, but it got to a point where I was almost suspicious about how and why funds were allocated to beautification of the monastic grounds, or for veneration of the Venerable Master (there was a life-size wax model of him in one building; his picture and/or a lifesize bust of him could also be found in just about every building).
After asking a couple of my friends and speaking with our venerable of discipline, I began to understand that monastics view places such as the Pure Land Cave as tools to bring people to the Dharma (law of Buddhism); a walk through the Pure Land Cave has the potential to inspire someone to be compassionate, to treat others fairly, to practice--even if in a little or small way--some part of Buddhism in one's daily life. Furthermore, I realized it's out of line for me to make value judgments about how much money or how much funding should be allocated for veneration of the Buddha, or the Venerable Master. Because I am not Buddhist, I cannot grasp the gravity that these figures have in the minds of Buddhist practitioners. And in any regard, getting caught up in the physical materiality of the FGS campus ignores the fact that FGS engages in so many relief and education programs across the world.
To say the least, living at such a wealthy temple challenged my assumptions about the "Buddhist monastic lifestyle" (if one such single category exists). And it also helped me realize the various avenues that modern Buddhism takes to penetrate the lay community.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Meditation as Metaphor
AH! So sorry I haven’t been able to post—the end of the monastery program left us without access to computers, and since arriving to the PRC on the 17th of July, personal blogs (and facebook and youtube!) have all been blocked!! As you can see, I’ve found a way around that, though! Here is the post I wrote about the meditation retreat; I will post my other blog entries about Taiwan later this week. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this one! Best wishes from Beijing.SJL
Meditation as Metaphor
The week-long silent meditation retreat was the highlight of the Woodenfish Program for me. We filed in on a Monday morning, picked our bunks, attended a brief meeting to explain protocol in the meditation hall, and then we put on the “noble silence” (禁语, jinyu) badges that served to notify the rest of the monastery community that we were not to be distracted from our practice.
picture of Meditation Hall
After reflecting on the retreat and the various dharma talks from venerable monks and nuns (dharma talks are similar to the sermon in the Catholic tradition; incorporating the teachings of the Buddha, the monk or nun delivering the dharma talk often shares stories and anecdotes to discuss morality and strategies for dealing with emotional or personal discontent), I now realize that the structure, form, and content of the seven-day retreat was designed to mirror our daily lives, albeit on a higher, more profound (and removed) level.
picture of dharma instruments used to notified us when sessions were over, when to stop moving, etc
First, a little background information about FoGuang Shan Buddhism and the structure of the retreat. Chan Buddhism was brought to China from India by Bodhidharma in the 4th – 5th century BCE. After the sixth patriarch in China, Hui Neng, passed away, the Chan School broke into several traditions, of which Linji (临济) is one. FoGuang Shan is part of the Linji tradition, which is known for banghe (棒诃, meaning “stick and shouting”). We were told that the venerable nuns in charge of our retreat went easier on us because this was the first meditation experience for most of us; in a normal retreat for the Linji tradition, so much as looking to the left or right would warrant a smack from the “compassion stick.” At all times, the venerable nuns were holding the compassion stick like a sword, resting on the shoulder right beneath the head.
picture of a "compassion" stick
Each morning we woke up at 5am, completed Tai Chi exercises and an initial early morning meditation session by 6:15 before breakfast at 6:30. All directions and instructions were shouted at us by the head nun: BE MINDFUL, DON’T BE DISTRACTED, BACK TO YOUR SEAT, CROSS YOUR LEGS, TAKE A BREAK. Each meditation session began with her sudden shout, SAH!!!!! And then two nuns would walk quickly up and down the aisle wielding the compassion stick. After breakfast, half of our group completed chores (I was in the afternoon chores group, so I graciously used that time for a nap), followed by our morning meditation session. We would meditate sitting down for approximately 30 – 40 minutes, followed by a 15ish minute walking meditation session; we would usually have three or so sessions back to back. Lunch was followed by the afternoon meditation sessions, chores, dinner, and then evening meditation sessions before we went to bed around 10 or 1030.
picture of the seats in meditation hall for daily meditation
dorm room/bunks adjacent to meditation hall
Meditation was painful. Sitting with a straight back and with legs in lotus position (the feet on top of the opposite thigh; I am still unable to sit in this posture so I just sit in half lotus with one foot up), I felt pains in other parts of my body—my arms would ache, my neck would become stiff, my legs regularly lost circulation. There were a couple sessions at the beginning of the retreat when I literally felt like I wouldn’t be able to walk after the seated meditation sessions. Thus, the purpose of walking meditation immediately following was to shake out one’s legs and arms.
There were three tracks for walking meditation, all proceeding clockwise and circumambulating the Buddha image in the center of the hall. The smallest track (and closest to the Buddha image) required the fastest pace; sometimes students on this track had to run at full speed if head nun required it. After about 15 minutes of walking in circles, a nun would smack her compassion stick against a stone, and we would freeze in our places before taking a 5 minute bathroom break.
pic of Buddha image in center of Meditation hall
picture from bunkbed in dorm
One of the most interesting concepts that was continually emphasized in the dharma talks is Buddhanature (佛性). Chan Buddhism teaches that every sentient being (even animals, hungry ghosts, and hell demons) has Buddhanature, meaning that each being has the potential to realize enlightenment and activate the Buddha inside him- or her-self. It also means that we need to see the world as the Buddha would see it; we must treat others with compassion, love, and forgiveness, and we must strive realize the truths that the Buddha realized—impermanence, emptiness, non-duality (to name a few).
These teachings and philosophies are embodied in the metaphor of the seven-day retreat. When I felt such pain in my legs during meditation, I was instructed to concentrate very closely on the origin of the pain, to penetrate the pain and find its root; the same instruction was given to address feelings of itchiness or coldness or hotness—we were told to find where the sensation was coming from. After intently searching for the origin of these sensations, I found that there was no origin—there was nothing causing the pain, there was nothing causing itchiness, there was nothing causing hotness or coldness. I also realized that all of these feelings were impermanent, because they would come and go, intensify and disappear. It was all in my mind (xin 心); it was my mind that created the pain, the sensations, the attachment to my form/body part that then ached or felt itchy.
Buddhism posits that there is no inherent self; we are nothing more than the 5 aggregates (色受想识行: form, sensation, perception, consciousness, volition). All of these aggregates in reality are illusory, products of our xin. The meditation retreat provided me the space and time to contemplate the ways my mind/xin works, the ways I attach to my form, sensations, perceptions, consciousness, and volitions. By contemplating these aggregates, the goal was to free myself from them, to detach from myself and achieve stillness of mind, free from everything.
There were sessions when I felt I had achieved correct posture and concentration that allowed me to move beyond my form. The feeling is hard to describe, but in a way it was as if there was a centripetal force spinning inside me, but in complete stillness. The force was pulling every part of my body in toward itself. I could feel every breath, every heartbeat, through my entire body and pulsing through my fingers and up through my arms and down my abdomen and to my toes. And it was as if I had achieved a hollowness inside the frame of my body.
But then, as soon as I was aware of it, my consciousness and perception went crazy and I wanted so badly to hang onto that physical feeling—and then I thought, Oh no! I’ve now become attached to this feeling—it’s just another hurdle I have to jump!
My meditation did not progress beyond that stage, but we were told not to make judgments about meditation sessions (there is no unsuccessful/bad meditation). I did notice, though, that my ability to concentrate/focus on my breath/practice was directly related to my experience with pain. Toward the end of the week, I was able to sit for the entire session, sometimes even skipping walking meditation to continue sitting, and afterward stand up and walk around without any hindrance.
Thus, the metaphor exposes itself. Buddhists believe that life is full of pain. Physical, mental, emotional, and day-to-day, pain in all its forms arises because of our inability to see that our physical form and sensations, our mental perceptions and consciousness, and our daily volitions are mere products of a turbulent mind/xin. If we can learn to control our mind, we will realize that all objects and feelings are impermanent, and therefore empty of inherent value, and should thus not be attached to or craved for. We cause ourselves so much pain because we fail to realize the way our minds work. The retreat was an intense experience in which I was inflicting pain upon myself by attempting to sit in stillness with legs crossed and back straight. I had to take responsibility for the fact that I was causing myself pain through meditation, and detach from that pain by controlling my mind. I had to still my turbulent mind. And in that moment of stillness, there was promise of clarity.
At the end of the seven days, when we were instructed in small groups of 10 to remove our badge of noble silence, we still just sat with eyes downcast, breathing deeply. Because at that moment I realized, even the seven-day retreat—that opportunity to understand myself and to concentrate on my body and my thoughts and my feelings—was, after seven days, gone; impermanent.
Meditation as Metaphor
The week-long silent meditation retreat was the highlight of the Woodenfish Program for me. We filed in on a Monday morning, picked our bunks, attended a brief meeting to explain protocol in the meditation hall, and then we put on the “noble silence” (禁语, jinyu) badges that served to notify the rest of the monastery community that we were not to be distracted from our practice.
picture of Meditation Hall
After reflecting on the retreat and the various dharma talks from venerable monks and nuns (dharma talks are similar to the sermon in the Catholic tradition; incorporating the teachings of the Buddha, the monk or nun delivering the dharma talk often shares stories and anecdotes to discuss morality and strategies for dealing with emotional or personal discontent), I now realize that the structure, form, and content of the seven-day retreat was designed to mirror our daily lives, albeit on a higher, more profound (and removed) level.
picture of dharma instruments used to notified us when sessions were over, when to stop moving, etc
First, a little background information about FoGuang Shan Buddhism and the structure of the retreat. Chan Buddhism was brought to China from India by Bodhidharma in the 4th – 5th century BCE. After the sixth patriarch in China, Hui Neng, passed away, the Chan School broke into several traditions, of which Linji (临济) is one. FoGuang Shan is part of the Linji tradition, which is known for banghe (棒诃, meaning “stick and shouting”). We were told that the venerable nuns in charge of our retreat went easier on us because this was the first meditation experience for most of us; in a normal retreat for the Linji tradition, so much as looking to the left or right would warrant a smack from the “compassion stick.” At all times, the venerable nuns were holding the compassion stick like a sword, resting on the shoulder right beneath the head.
picture of a "compassion" stick
Each morning we woke up at 5am, completed Tai Chi exercises and an initial early morning meditation session by 6:15 before breakfast at 6:30. All directions and instructions were shouted at us by the head nun: BE MINDFUL, DON’T BE DISTRACTED, BACK TO YOUR SEAT, CROSS YOUR LEGS, TAKE A BREAK. Each meditation session began with her sudden shout, SAH!!!!! And then two nuns would walk quickly up and down the aisle wielding the compassion stick. After breakfast, half of our group completed chores (I was in the afternoon chores group, so I graciously used that time for a nap), followed by our morning meditation session. We would meditate sitting down for approximately 30 – 40 minutes, followed by a 15ish minute walking meditation session; we would usually have three or so sessions back to back. Lunch was followed by the afternoon meditation sessions, chores, dinner, and then evening meditation sessions before we went to bed around 10 or 1030.
picture of the seats in meditation hall for daily meditation
dorm room/bunks adjacent to meditation hall
Meditation was painful. Sitting with a straight back and with legs in lotus position (the feet on top of the opposite thigh; I am still unable to sit in this posture so I just sit in half lotus with one foot up), I felt pains in other parts of my body—my arms would ache, my neck would become stiff, my legs regularly lost circulation. There were a couple sessions at the beginning of the retreat when I literally felt like I wouldn’t be able to walk after the seated meditation sessions. Thus, the purpose of walking meditation immediately following was to shake out one’s legs and arms.
There were three tracks for walking meditation, all proceeding clockwise and circumambulating the Buddha image in the center of the hall. The smallest track (and closest to the Buddha image) required the fastest pace; sometimes students on this track had to run at full speed if head nun required it. After about 15 minutes of walking in circles, a nun would smack her compassion stick against a stone, and we would freeze in our places before taking a 5 minute bathroom break.
pic of Buddha image in center of Meditation hall
picture from bunkbed in dorm
One of the most interesting concepts that was continually emphasized in the dharma talks is Buddhanature (佛性). Chan Buddhism teaches that every sentient being (even animals, hungry ghosts, and hell demons) has Buddhanature, meaning that each being has the potential to realize enlightenment and activate the Buddha inside him- or her-self. It also means that we need to see the world as the Buddha would see it; we must treat others with compassion, love, and forgiveness, and we must strive realize the truths that the Buddha realized—impermanence, emptiness, non-duality (to name a few).
These teachings and philosophies are embodied in the metaphor of the seven-day retreat. When I felt such pain in my legs during meditation, I was instructed to concentrate very closely on the origin of the pain, to penetrate the pain and find its root; the same instruction was given to address feelings of itchiness or coldness or hotness—we were told to find where the sensation was coming from. After intently searching for the origin of these sensations, I found that there was no origin—there was nothing causing the pain, there was nothing causing itchiness, there was nothing causing hotness or coldness. I also realized that all of these feelings were impermanent, because they would come and go, intensify and disappear. It was all in my mind (xin 心); it was my mind that created the pain, the sensations, the attachment to my form/body part that then ached or felt itchy.
Buddhism posits that there is no inherent self; we are nothing more than the 5 aggregates (色受想识行: form, sensation, perception, consciousness, volition). All of these aggregates in reality are illusory, products of our xin. The meditation retreat provided me the space and time to contemplate the ways my mind/xin works, the ways I attach to my form, sensations, perceptions, consciousness, and volitions. By contemplating these aggregates, the goal was to free myself from them, to detach from myself and achieve stillness of mind, free from everything.
There were sessions when I felt I had achieved correct posture and concentration that allowed me to move beyond my form. The feeling is hard to describe, but in a way it was as if there was a centripetal force spinning inside me, but in complete stillness. The force was pulling every part of my body in toward itself. I could feel every breath, every heartbeat, through my entire body and pulsing through my fingers and up through my arms and down my abdomen and to my toes. And it was as if I had achieved a hollowness inside the frame of my body.
But then, as soon as I was aware of it, my consciousness and perception went crazy and I wanted so badly to hang onto that physical feeling—and then I thought, Oh no! I’ve now become attached to this feeling—it’s just another hurdle I have to jump!
My meditation did not progress beyond that stage, but we were told not to make judgments about meditation sessions (there is no unsuccessful/bad meditation). I did notice, though, that my ability to concentrate/focus on my breath/practice was directly related to my experience with pain. Toward the end of the week, I was able to sit for the entire session, sometimes even skipping walking meditation to continue sitting, and afterward stand up and walk around without any hindrance.
Thus, the metaphor exposes itself. Buddhists believe that life is full of pain. Physical, mental, emotional, and day-to-day, pain in all its forms arises because of our inability to see that our physical form and sensations, our mental perceptions and consciousness, and our daily volitions are mere products of a turbulent mind/xin. If we can learn to control our mind, we will realize that all objects and feelings are impermanent, and therefore empty of inherent value, and should thus not be attached to or craved for. We cause ourselves so much pain because we fail to realize the way our minds work. The retreat was an intense experience in which I was inflicting pain upon myself by attempting to sit in stillness with legs crossed and back straight. I had to take responsibility for the fact that I was causing myself pain through meditation, and detach from that pain by controlling my mind. I had to still my turbulent mind. And in that moment of stillness, there was promise of clarity.
At the end of the seven days, when we were instructed in small groups of 10 to remove our badge of noble silence, we still just sat with eyes downcast, breathing deeply. Because at that moment I realized, even the seven-day retreat—that opportunity to understand myself and to concentrate on my body and my thoughts and my feelings—was, after seven days, gone; impermanent.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
quick pics
tomorrow begins our 7 day intensive meditation retreat, but before then I just wanted to make a quick post with some pictures for ya! We will not be able to speak, make eye contact, use electronics, read, or listen to music during the meditation week, and falling asleep during meditation can elicit a smack from the "compassion stick" !
the first picture is the main gate of Fo Guang Shan.
the second and third pictures are from "Big Buddha World", a large area of the monastery compound and final destination for our pilgrimage at the end of the week. we have to make a prostration every three steps from the meditation hall to this area.
the last picture is my bed and daily garb!
the first picture is the main gate of Fo Guang Shan.
the second and third pictures are from "Big Buddha World", a large area of the monastery compound and final destination for our pilgrimage at the end of the week. we have to make a prostration every three steps from the meditation hall to this area.
the last picture is my bed and daily garb!
Monday, June 22, 2009
The Concept
The Concept
After six intense, jam-packed days of trainings, classes, meditation and chanting practice, on the seventh day we finally have a day of rest (haha). I thought I would take a moment to explain the concept behind our specific program, and, in some ways, behind Chinese monastic life in general.
First, there are rules for everything. There is a proper way to hold the meditation book, a proper way to wear a sidebag, a proper way to pull out chairs before sitting down, a proper way to fold a blanket, a proper way for arms to dangle by my side, etc.
Before we leave our place of residence (a hotel-like building for pilgrims and lay-practitioners) each day, we line-up from shortest to tallest, men facing women (and with about two yards separating us). When the venerable of discipline approves of our posture, he tells us to 合掌 (hezhang, put palms together in front of the sternum), and then to 问讯 (wenxun, to bow and then rise, lifting the hands, with the pointer fingers together, up to the eyebrows before coming back down to the sternum). The first couple days (and even yesterday), we apparently were not in unison, so we had to continue to wenxun until all 61 of us bowed and rose together. Then the two lines of men and women file out and we walk in silence to wherever we are going.
The 61 participants come from 17 different countries and over 45 colleges. Just about everyone has some academic background in Buddhism, and a few of us have a background in Chinese language. We are woken up every morning at 5:30am by the drumming of a woodenfish, and then we complete an hour of Tai Chi and seated meditation. We then have a short breakfast before 3 hours of class, taught by venerable monks and nuns who often spend more time answering questions than actually lecturing content.
On some days we help with community service around the monastery, cutting grass, sweeping, or moving boxes. On the first day, my group moved boxes from one side of a storage room to another. I was sure that we would be asked to move them back to their original places, but it hasn’t happened yet, hah.
We are encouraged not to talk, to always keep our eyes down at a 45 degree angle if not closed, and we are told to always be mindful of our body and, to a lesser extent, our surroundings. We are getting into a pattern of meditation, breakfast, class, lunch, walking meditation, seated meditation, community service and/or project work time, dinner, extracurricular classes, dharma talk (question and answer), meditation, and then evening chanting (vespers). Between these events, we may have 10 or so minutes to ourselves, but we are reminded that every moment should be an opportunity to focus on our bodies and our selves (which do not actually exist, hah). Needless to say, the 7 hours of sleep is often not enough for the 17 hours that are crammed with activities and “mindfulness”.
At first, I was a little vexed with all the rules, and got very tired of being scolded for pulling my chair out too far from the table. However, I have begun to understand the concept behind all this structure, all these rules:
We are not supposed to think. The venerable of discipline and the other staff members are trying to train us so that when we embark on our 7 day silent meditation retreat, we will not have to think about how to lay a pillow, or how to pull out a chair, or how to wait in line, or how to do anything. We need to reach the point where we are only thinking about being. Just being. Everything else should just be an action our body moves through.
We are trying to limit the amount of external stimuli that could possibly move our minds. By looking down and never engaging or paying close attention to our surroundings, we can focus on ourselves and our mind and just be. By falling into a pattern that will repeat every day, our bodies will know how to respond when it is time to go to eat or get up from bed.
We have learned a few details about the intensive meditation retreat that will commence next Monday, but for the most part it is shrouded in mystery. The meditation hall has been described as extremely plain and colorless, and so silent that the only thing that you can hear is the ringing of your own ears. This will probably be the only chance in my life to be completely silent (and taken care of) for seven days straight.
I feel a little nervous about the meditation retreat, as I still struggle to meditate for just half an hour during our daily sessions now. However, I have improved and am quite impressed that I can at least keep my lower back straight for 30 minutes now! I’m still working on controlling my mind and focusing on my breath, rather than merely thinking about my life and what I “know.”
One of my favorite aspects of life here at the monastery has been the dining ceremony; today, I was on the other side—I served the food, which was -quite- an experience. I hope to write an entry about that soon. In the meantime, I need to continue to focus as hard as I can, in every moment—I’ve realized that meditation is not something that only happens in a seated, lotus-posture. Meditation is something that monastics aim to engage in during their every move.
After six intense, jam-packed days of trainings, classes, meditation and chanting practice, on the seventh day we finally have a day of rest (haha). I thought I would take a moment to explain the concept behind our specific program, and, in some ways, behind Chinese monastic life in general.
First, there are rules for everything. There is a proper way to hold the meditation book, a proper way to wear a sidebag, a proper way to pull out chairs before sitting down, a proper way to fold a blanket, a proper way for arms to dangle by my side, etc.
Before we leave our place of residence (a hotel-like building for pilgrims and lay-practitioners) each day, we line-up from shortest to tallest, men facing women (and with about two yards separating us). When the venerable of discipline approves of our posture, he tells us to 合掌 (hezhang, put palms together in front of the sternum), and then to 问讯 (wenxun, to bow and then rise, lifting the hands, with the pointer fingers together, up to the eyebrows before coming back down to the sternum). The first couple days (and even yesterday), we apparently were not in unison, so we had to continue to wenxun until all 61 of us bowed and rose together. Then the two lines of men and women file out and we walk in silence to wherever we are going.
The 61 participants come from 17 different countries and over 45 colleges. Just about everyone has some academic background in Buddhism, and a few of us have a background in Chinese language. We are woken up every morning at 5:30am by the drumming of a woodenfish, and then we complete an hour of Tai Chi and seated meditation. We then have a short breakfast before 3 hours of class, taught by venerable monks and nuns who often spend more time answering questions than actually lecturing content.
On some days we help with community service around the monastery, cutting grass, sweeping, or moving boxes. On the first day, my group moved boxes from one side of a storage room to another. I was sure that we would be asked to move them back to their original places, but it hasn’t happened yet, hah.
We are encouraged not to talk, to always keep our eyes down at a 45 degree angle if not closed, and we are told to always be mindful of our body and, to a lesser extent, our surroundings. We are getting into a pattern of meditation, breakfast, class, lunch, walking meditation, seated meditation, community service and/or project work time, dinner, extracurricular classes, dharma talk (question and answer), meditation, and then evening chanting (vespers). Between these events, we may have 10 or so minutes to ourselves, but we are reminded that every moment should be an opportunity to focus on our bodies and our selves (which do not actually exist, hah). Needless to say, the 7 hours of sleep is often not enough for the 17 hours that are crammed with activities and “mindfulness”.
At first, I was a little vexed with all the rules, and got very tired of being scolded for pulling my chair out too far from the table. However, I have begun to understand the concept behind all this structure, all these rules:
We are not supposed to think. The venerable of discipline and the other staff members are trying to train us so that when we embark on our 7 day silent meditation retreat, we will not have to think about how to lay a pillow, or how to pull out a chair, or how to wait in line, or how to do anything. We need to reach the point where we are only thinking about being. Just being. Everything else should just be an action our body moves through.
We are trying to limit the amount of external stimuli that could possibly move our minds. By looking down and never engaging or paying close attention to our surroundings, we can focus on ourselves and our mind and just be. By falling into a pattern that will repeat every day, our bodies will know how to respond when it is time to go to eat or get up from bed.
We have learned a few details about the intensive meditation retreat that will commence next Monday, but for the most part it is shrouded in mystery. The meditation hall has been described as extremely plain and colorless, and so silent that the only thing that you can hear is the ringing of your own ears. This will probably be the only chance in my life to be completely silent (and taken care of) for seven days straight.
I feel a little nervous about the meditation retreat, as I still struggle to meditate for just half an hour during our daily sessions now. However, I have improved and am quite impressed that I can at least keep my lower back straight for 30 minutes now! I’m still working on controlling my mind and focusing on my breath, rather than merely thinking about my life and what I “know.”
One of my favorite aspects of life here at the monastery has been the dining ceremony; today, I was on the other side—I served the food, which was -quite- an experience. I hope to write an entry about that soon. In the meantime, I need to continue to focus as hard as I can, in every moment—I’ve realized that meditation is not something that only happens in a seated, lotus-posture. Meditation is something that monastics aim to engage in during their every move.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
New Journey
Greetings all!
Unfortunately we are about to line up for standing meditation / march to dinner, so I cannot make this a long post. I just wanted to make a post more recent than November 2008, though!
This summer I am participating in the Humanistic Buddhist Monastery Life Program in Taiwan. We began the program two days ago, and life has been extremely... interesting... since then! Rules dominate everything-- putting the bag on the right side (as opposed to the left) of the body warrents a scolding, no slouching at any times EVER, and there is even an ettiquette for how to hold a book! But I'm learning a lot and will make another post soon. (However, we only have access to internet for 2 hours each day, but even that is not a given. I have no access to internet in my room or on my blackberry (ahh!), so I apologize if I'm slow to return emails or make posts!)
In late July I will move to Beijing, where I will begin a one-year (two if I like it and they like me!) fellowship at the Natural Resources Defense Council Beijing Office. I will be helping them on various projects, most notably their environmental law booklet, green buildings and sustainability program, as well as contributing to the organization's blog (www.greenlaw.org.cn).
Alright I must put on my rain-hat (think crouching tiger hidden dragon) and go back to the dormitory. Hope all is well and I intend to post again as soon as I have free time.
Unfortunately we are about to line up for standing meditation / march to dinner, so I cannot make this a long post. I just wanted to make a post more recent than November 2008, though!
This summer I am participating in the Humanistic Buddhist Monastery Life Program in Taiwan. We began the program two days ago, and life has been extremely... interesting... since then! Rules dominate everything-- putting the bag on the right side (as opposed to the left) of the body warrents a scolding, no slouching at any times EVER, and there is even an ettiquette for how to hold a book! But I'm learning a lot and will make another post soon. (However, we only have access to internet for 2 hours each day, but even that is not a given. I have no access to internet in my room or on my blackberry (ahh!), so I apologize if I'm slow to return emails or make posts!)
In late July I will move to Beijing, where I will begin a one-year (two if I like it and they like me!) fellowship at the Natural Resources Defense Council Beijing Office. I will be helping them on various projects, most notably their environmental law booklet, green buildings and sustainability program, as well as contributing to the organization's blog (www.greenlaw.org.cn).
Alright I must put on my rain-hat (think crouching tiger hidden dragon) and go back to the dormitory. Hope all is well and I intend to post again as soon as I have free time.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
passing thoughts
Well, unfortunately I've been without reflective thoughts over the past 11 or so weeks since reaching Ha'erbin. Applying to jobs and writing personal statements has forced me to do so, however!
Below are three pieces I wrote recently about my experiences over the summer, recently in Ha'erbin, and during my stay in Malaysia.
I promise to make an actual update on my life sometime... but for the time being, everything is going well! Only 3 more weeks of classes before I go back to Beijing and meet my family members!
Love, and hope you enjoy:
1) article in UVA's Arts and Sciences Magazine Online: http://aands.virginia.edu/x14159.xml
2) I was standing against the wall in the dimly-lit basement of the student center at Harbin Institute of Technology, trying to position myself so that I could see the student performers “dance-off” at the other side of the room. I scratched my head in amazement—when I passed the registration table in the cafeteria the week before, I had no idea there would be meticulously choreographed ten minute performances, audience members toting signs of encouragement for their friends, or a panel of three grumpy-looking judges (strangely similar to So You Think You Can Dance). Maybe all those things were mentioned on the information sheet, but nine semesters of Chinese still wasn’t enough to read it all.
Before I had the opportunity to majorly diulian (“lose face”—basically, embarrass myself horribly), I had a tough time figuring out what those grumpy judges wanted to see. They had so much to choose from: a group of three girls wearing tank tops and army pants dancing to “Genie in a Bottle,” a couple who danced Merengue, an excellent rendition of the robot, three or four traditional Chinese and ethnic-minority dances, to name a few. And of course, the one and only foreigner, yours truly, who wiggled to silly indie-pop for less than a minute before scurrying off the stage.
I look back to that time of intense competition, the anticipation for the result of comparing apples and oranges, and I think it truly underscores my fascination with Chinese culture and society. History books always point to the Cultural Revolution as the time when China wanted to throw off its old culture and make progress for the new, but I see that tension still existing in China today, especially among youth. As a country with nearly three thousand years of written history, China now faces the pressures of modernization and catching up with the world. This pressure manifests itself in interesting ways—the Yi fan-dancer with her elaborate folk-garb clearing the stage for a sexy group of Christina fans made this clash of old and new more than obvious.
Living in China has provided me with a space to learn about the fascinating changes that have marked the past century, and particularly the last thirty years, of China’s development. For the past five months, I have been researching the impact of these changes on the rural family, working closely with marginalized, migration-affected children. Compiling these experiences and observations into a senior thesis will be challenging, but will also offer me an opportunity to achieve a deeper understanding of an important social unit in Chinese society: the family.
The more I learn, the more curious I become. Returning to China for post-graduate work at an NGO, a law firm, or a foreign affairs publication will allow me to use my skills to work closely with Chinese people to achieve common goals. I would be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes crave the comfort and security of speaking English in America, where I blend-in perfectly and, on a day-to-day basis, rarely face overt, tangible discrimination. But the insights I’ve gained from being a laowai (foreigner) in China have been valuable to my understanding of cross-cultural communication, American culture, and myself. I’m willing to risk comfort, willing to embarrass myself a thousand more times, for deeper insight into these topics; moving to the workplace in China is best way to accomplish that goal.
3)This August I had the opportunity to travel in Thailand, Singapore, and Malaysia before participating in the Harvard Project for Asian and International Relations Academic Conference, which was hosted in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. I was astonished by the diversity of these three Southeast Asian countries, and in particular Malaysia.
While I was walking around the city center in downtown Kuala Lumpur with my Conference roommate, an ethnic Chinese and Malaysian citizen, I was amazed by the different types of people I saw: break-dancing teenagers, Erhu playing Chinese men, Sari-wearing women. Kuala Lumpur is also a popular tourist location for many Arabs, coming from nations like Saudi Arabia and Afghanistan. This was the first time I saw a woman wearing a burqa, or even a niqab covering all but the eyes. Certainly, I had seen reports on television or in the newspaper that included photographs of this clothing, but what surprised me was the extravagance and seeming materialism of the men and children with the burqa-wearing women. The typical man accompanying a burqa-wearing woman was exceptionally well-dressed, sporting designer jeans and a fashionable name-brand shirt. The stark visual contrast between modesty and showiness in dress surprised me.
Coming from my background as an American with a shallow understanding of Muslim clothing and culture, I was challenged at first to understand this phenomenon. My initial, inward thought was, “Wow, those belabored critiques of Muslim culture as being unfair to women are right.” Prior to this experience, perhaps I was unaware that I even harbored these opinions; I knew I needed to explore the topic further.
I explained to my roommate that I would have expected more modesty from the male partner in a relationship that comes from a community in which modesty is “required” of women. My roommate pointed out that I did not see what these women were wearing under the burqa. In reality, he told me, they are most likely dressed in the same name brands and designer clothing, but these clothes are only for the husband to see. “Wearing a burqa doesn’t have anything to do with conservatism, it’s what they believe.”
After thinking more about this observation and conversing with other friends whom I met at the Conference and afterward, I began to understand that an assumption of “being forced” or even coercive passivity on the part of burqa-wearing woman is unfair. Furthermore, I realized that trying to glean meaning and insight solely from outward appearance is an incomplete and flawed approach to understanding culture.
This experience has made clear to me that open-mindedness and a willingness for self-reflection is critical to understanding how I react in new situations. This perspective has motivated me to be more sensitive to my limitations in understanding different cultures without asking others, sharing experiences, and starting dialogue.
Below are three pieces I wrote recently about my experiences over the summer, recently in Ha'erbin, and during my stay in Malaysia.
I promise to make an actual update on my life sometime... but for the time being, everything is going well! Only 3 more weeks of classes before I go back to Beijing and meet my family members!
Love, and hope you enjoy:
1) article in UVA's Arts and Sciences Magazine Online: http://aands.virginia.edu/x14159.xml
2) I was standing against the wall in the dimly-lit basement of the student center at Harbin Institute of Technology, trying to position myself so that I could see the student performers “dance-off” at the other side of the room. I scratched my head in amazement—when I passed the registration table in the cafeteria the week before, I had no idea there would be meticulously choreographed ten minute performances, audience members toting signs of encouragement for their friends, or a panel of three grumpy-looking judges (strangely similar to So You Think You Can Dance). Maybe all those things were mentioned on the information sheet, but nine semesters of Chinese still wasn’t enough to read it all.
Before I had the opportunity to majorly diulian (“lose face”—basically, embarrass myself horribly), I had a tough time figuring out what those grumpy judges wanted to see. They had so much to choose from: a group of three girls wearing tank tops and army pants dancing to “Genie in a Bottle,” a couple who danced Merengue, an excellent rendition of the robot, three or four traditional Chinese and ethnic-minority dances, to name a few. And of course, the one and only foreigner, yours truly, who wiggled to silly indie-pop for less than a minute before scurrying off the stage.
I look back to that time of intense competition, the anticipation for the result of comparing apples and oranges, and I think it truly underscores my fascination with Chinese culture and society. History books always point to the Cultural Revolution as the time when China wanted to throw off its old culture and make progress for the new, but I see that tension still existing in China today, especially among youth. As a country with nearly three thousand years of written history, China now faces the pressures of modernization and catching up with the world. This pressure manifests itself in interesting ways—the Yi fan-dancer with her elaborate folk-garb clearing the stage for a sexy group of Christina fans made this clash of old and new more than obvious.
Living in China has provided me with a space to learn about the fascinating changes that have marked the past century, and particularly the last thirty years, of China’s development. For the past five months, I have been researching the impact of these changes on the rural family, working closely with marginalized, migration-affected children. Compiling these experiences and observations into a senior thesis will be challenging, but will also offer me an opportunity to achieve a deeper understanding of an important social unit in Chinese society: the family.
The more I learn, the more curious I become. Returning to China for post-graduate work at an NGO, a law firm, or a foreign affairs publication will allow me to use my skills to work closely with Chinese people to achieve common goals. I would be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes crave the comfort and security of speaking English in America, where I blend-in perfectly and, on a day-to-day basis, rarely face overt, tangible discrimination. But the insights I’ve gained from being a laowai (foreigner) in China have been valuable to my understanding of cross-cultural communication, American culture, and myself. I’m willing to risk comfort, willing to embarrass myself a thousand more times, for deeper insight into these topics; moving to the workplace in China is best way to accomplish that goal.
3)This August I had the opportunity to travel in Thailand, Singapore, and Malaysia before participating in the Harvard Project for Asian and International Relations Academic Conference, which was hosted in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. I was astonished by the diversity of these three Southeast Asian countries, and in particular Malaysia.
While I was walking around the city center in downtown Kuala Lumpur with my Conference roommate, an ethnic Chinese and Malaysian citizen, I was amazed by the different types of people I saw: break-dancing teenagers, Erhu playing Chinese men, Sari-wearing women. Kuala Lumpur is also a popular tourist location for many Arabs, coming from nations like Saudi Arabia and Afghanistan. This was the first time I saw a woman wearing a burqa, or even a niqab covering all but the eyes. Certainly, I had seen reports on television or in the newspaper that included photographs of this clothing, but what surprised me was the extravagance and seeming materialism of the men and children with the burqa-wearing women. The typical man accompanying a burqa-wearing woman was exceptionally well-dressed, sporting designer jeans and a fashionable name-brand shirt. The stark visual contrast between modesty and showiness in dress surprised me.
Coming from my background as an American with a shallow understanding of Muslim clothing and culture, I was challenged at first to understand this phenomenon. My initial, inward thought was, “Wow, those belabored critiques of Muslim culture as being unfair to women are right.” Prior to this experience, perhaps I was unaware that I even harbored these opinions; I knew I needed to explore the topic further.
I explained to my roommate that I would have expected more modesty from the male partner in a relationship that comes from a community in which modesty is “required” of women. My roommate pointed out that I did not see what these women were wearing under the burqa. In reality, he told me, they are most likely dressed in the same name brands and designer clothing, but these clothes are only for the husband to see. “Wearing a burqa doesn’t have anything to do with conservatism, it’s what they believe.”
After thinking more about this observation and conversing with other friends whom I met at the Conference and afterward, I began to understand that an assumption of “being forced” or even coercive passivity on the part of burqa-wearing woman is unfair. Furthermore, I realized that trying to glean meaning and insight solely from outward appearance is an incomplete and flawed approach to understanding culture.
This experience has made clear to me that open-mindedness and a willingness for self-reflection is critical to understanding how I react in new situations. This perspective has motivated me to be more sensitive to my limitations in understanding different cultures without asking others, sharing experiences, and starting dialogue.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
pix website
Check out my flickr account--website is to the right!! I put up my pictures from Bangkok a couple days ago, and I'll be adding more pictures as soon as I get better internet
Today is the last day of the Harvard Project for Asia and International Relations (HPAIR) conference. Monday night I'm flying back to Beijing--and I'm so excited to go back "home"
I'll make a post about SINGAPORE soon. Hope everyone is well!
Today is the last day of the Harvard Project for Asia and International Relations (HPAIR) conference. Monday night I'm flying back to Beijing--and I'm so excited to go back "home"
I'll make a post about SINGAPORE soon. Hope everyone is well!
Monday, August 18, 2008
Stories from Bangkok
ahhh even in Singapore I can't add pictures :( So sorry guys. If you can, check out my facebook albums, for now, I'll have to look into creating a photo website for those of you who don't have FB. Hope it's an interesting entry anyway!
I spent last weekend in Bangkok, Thailand, and the greater part of the week at a beach in Krabi Province, Thailand. I’m now in Singapore and will be going back to Malaysia on Monday.
Bangkok was a fascinating experience for me, as it presented a completely different atmosphere, culture, and feel that was distinct from China in many ways. Of course, I shouldn’t have assumed the two nations would be similar, but I was still taken aback by all the differences I noticed. Thailand is the second (first being China) foreign nation/culture that I have been lucky enough to experience, and I’m just blown away by the diversity of life over here in Southeast Asia—Malaysia (for the one night that I experienced it) was also new and unique to me.
The population of Thailand is near 62 million, and the capital is located in central Thailand at Bangkok. Bangkok is a “tourist name” that is only used internationally. Thai people call the city Krung Thep, which is short for the unbelievably long full name: krung thep mahanakhon amon rattanakosin mahinthara yuthaya mahadilok phop noppharat ratchathani burirom udomratchaniwet mahasathan amon piman awatan sathit sakkathattiya witsanukam prasit.
Wow.
The language was perhaps one of the most interesting, and for me, most frustrating parts of my experience in Thailand. The script of Thai is beautiful, involving over 40 consonants and over 30 vowels, combined with 5 tones that are marked over consonants to create a pretty complicated language. I would say the majority of people I interacted with had a basic handling of English, but they often would slip back into Thai at random intervals, or their English was very heavily accented so I didn’t quite understand. I remember once when I was trying to bargain for a shirt, I could have sworn the saleswomen was speaking Chinese to me because she kept saying [what I heard as] “ni kan ni kan” (which in Chinese means, “you look you look”). After I heard that I excited replied in Chinese to her, because I just wanted to be able to use my—if I do say so myself—rather good Chinese bargaining skills, but then she just gave me a confused look. Either she was using Thai that sounded similar, or she was saying “can” as in “can you buy it for this price?” I tell ya, not being able to communicate, especially during bargaining/making purchases was very very frustrating, and I felt more like a foreigner than I ever have in China.
Another funny thing about the Thai language was the way Thai people answer their cell phones. They often say “Huhlllloooooooo”, with the first part (“heh”) dipping down and then the “low” part rising up from the bottom pitch. Strange to hear something so familiar but then not quite the same.
My classmate from UVA, Oh, picked me up from the airport and we went to Siam shopping center, which is apparently one of the largest or the largest shopping centers in East Asia. It was an enormous complex with multiple buildings and name brands I’d never heard of and food court after food court after food court. Just paying for parking was interesting, because the service person put her hands together at her chest (as if in Christian prayer, with the fingers straight) and then leaned her head downward, almost touching her nose to her fingers. This is called wai and is a way of showing respect in Thailand. Usually service people/sales people will do a wai and the customer can either wai in response or just nod the head. Also, whenever a younger person is introduced or says hello to someone older, he or she should definitely wai.
After Oh and I had chosen a restaurant in the Siam Shopping center, I encountered another difference that I wasn’t accustomed to. We ordered a curry and a salad, and I was surprised that we were each given a fork and a spoon—no chopsticks and no knife. I started using the spoon as a knife with my left hand, and then used the fork how I would in America. Oh laughed at me and told me I had it the opposite way around—the spoon should go in the right hand and the fork should be used to scoop food onto the spoon before eating it. I suppose it shows my ignorance, but I had no idea people ate with spoons and forks in such a way!
I arrived on Friday, and the following Tuesday was the Queen of Thailand’s birthday, so pictures of her (and the King, and other members of the Royal Family) were all around the city. Neat Fact that Oh told me: the King is said to always have a camera, pencil, and map with him whenever he goes out.
I had read about the seriousness of respecting the royal family in my guidebook, apparently stepping on a dollar bill (which has the king’s face) is a serious offense and punishable. Oh told me that people do take it seriously, but that he has rarely heard of these types of occurrences.
On Friday night, we went to a bar in the gay district in Bangkok. We were lucky to arrive right at the beginning of a Cabaret show, which was quite an amazing sight. The stage had about six or so performers at a time, dancing precisely choreographed numbers behind a diva singing her heart out. Before I had heard about the “ladyboys” of Thailand—men who either cross dress, had a full sex change, or somewhere in between—but wow I was stunned to this performance in real life. Some of the performers were GORGEOUS—I would really never imagine that they once before, or even at the time, were men. Perfectly formed bodies, too! Even thought the club was packed and we only had a half-view, it was really exciting, and also punctuated by some comic relief when an extremely large ladyboy (she was probably near 300 pounds) would come onto the stage and sing very romantic songs in her long, elegant dress. Quite an experience.
As we were weaving in and out of the night market stands (EVERYTHING was being sold at bargain prices—shirts, jeans, DVDs, souvenirs, socks) on the way back to my hostel, we came across an elephant on a leash. Earlier in the day I saw a man riding an elephant on the busy streets of Thailand, and Oh told me that keeping elephants in the city is actually illegal according to Thai law, falling under cruelty to animals. So, I felt bad when I encouraged the whole situation by paying 10 baht to the “owner” so that I could feel the elephant. Well, the elephant must have been starving because it ate the food out of my hand as soon as I took it out of the bag. Hahha, what a tourist moment.
The next day Oh and I went to the Grand Palace, the (very) old home of the King and Queen. As we were walking to get a taxi (Oh was not a fan of the very touristy “tuk-tuks”—motocycle taxis, and in fact I’m glad we didn’t ride them, because I met not a few other westerners like myself who said tuk-tuk drivers “took-took” (hah) them to random places to buy stuff, rather then going to the actual location asked for by the passenger), but so we were walking and all the sudden we heard the screams of several teenage girls. We looked to our right and saw several girls running together—toward the entrance of a hotel. Naturally, Oh and I started running as well, even though we didn’t have the posters in our hands that many of these probably middle-school or high-school aged girls had. We soon saw the fronts of the posters, and it looked like some sort of Korean celebrity… maybe he was staying in the hotel or something. But by the time we got closer, the girls seemed to have given up and then walked back to the shade—waiting, waiting for the next time when he might come down to the first floor. Another funny experience.
It is only used for special ceremonies now though. In the palace compound is Wat Phra Kaew, one of the most beautiful places I’ve been to yet. Pictures do all the talking here.
We also went to another very very old Buddhist temple, Wat Arun. Buddhism is the State Religion in Thailand.
It was particularly interesting seeing these temples to me, because in Thailand and many other South and Southeast Asian countries they practice Theravada Buddhism, which is different from Mahayana Buddhism which is practiced in China, Korea, and Japan (and other regions). (And of course both of these are different than Variyana Buddhism, which is practiced in Tibet.) The main difference, if I’m remembering correctly, is that Theravada Buddhism focuses mainly on the actual teachings of the Buddha himself and thus encourages individual salvation and enlightenment, whereas Mahayana Buddhism posits that there are several Bodhisattvas who are also very influential to believers. A Bodhisattva is an individual who has almost reached Enlightenment but then decided not to fully renounce the world and in fact stay on in the world to help others achieve Enlightenment. Any of my Buddhist friends, or anyone else in-the-know, please feel free to comment to correct/supplement this brief description!
In general, though, I would say that these two temples I saw in Thailand were much more ornate than those I’ve seen in China. The details and amount of ornamentation surpasses many Chinese temples in splendor and, well, shiny-ness.
Saturday evening I went with my other UVa classmate, Napatra, to Siam Shopping Center again just to walk around and buy some street clothes (all of which I’m very proud of because they’re so hip!). We saw a really neat photo exhibit about the importance of environmental protection for a sustainable future. We also came across a very strange event taking place in a public space outside of the shopping mall: a Japanese Anime Dress-up Competition?! Look at some of the crazzzy costumes people were wearing:
The next day Oh took me to the Old Parliament building to see an exhibit about some artisan creations for the King and Queen. On the way to the exhibit, we had to take a detour because there was a protest… perhaps against the Parliament, my friend thought. There are many complaints against corruption and manipulation of rural peoples during election time. The exhibit itself was amazing, some really beautiful pieces of work—unfortunately no cameras were allowed inside, but I took these from the outside. Very interesting to architecture, too, eh?
One thing that left me confused about Thailand was the seemingly contradictory ideas about gender. While one night I was able to see the thriving ladyboy culture, the next day I was witness to the strictly genderized requirements of temples and buildings like the Old Parliament Building. Men had to cover their legs, so they could wear pants or, if they forgot to wear pants (like I did at the Old Parliament building), he could buy a piece of cloth to tie around the waste. However, women had to be wearing skirts at these locations—even if she was wearing pants. Seems kind of gender reinforcing, doesn’t it?
I wish I had had more time to spend in Bangkok—I know I still only scratched the surface of a very unique culture very rooted in history. The stories Oh told me about past Kings of Thailand were pretty amazing, and it was very eye opening for me to see such a large, distinctly different city in another part of the world other than the States or China.
I spent last weekend in Bangkok, Thailand, and the greater part of the week at a beach in Krabi Province, Thailand. I’m now in Singapore and will be going back to Malaysia on Monday.
Bangkok was a fascinating experience for me, as it presented a completely different atmosphere, culture, and feel that was distinct from China in many ways. Of course, I shouldn’t have assumed the two nations would be similar, but I was still taken aback by all the differences I noticed. Thailand is the second (first being China) foreign nation/culture that I have been lucky enough to experience, and I’m just blown away by the diversity of life over here in Southeast Asia—Malaysia (for the one night that I experienced it) was also new and unique to me.
The population of Thailand is near 62 million, and the capital is located in central Thailand at Bangkok. Bangkok is a “tourist name” that is only used internationally. Thai people call the city Krung Thep, which is short for the unbelievably long full name: krung thep mahanakhon amon rattanakosin mahinthara yuthaya mahadilok phop noppharat ratchathani burirom udomratchaniwet mahasathan amon piman awatan sathit sakkathattiya witsanukam prasit.
Wow.
The language was perhaps one of the most interesting, and for me, most frustrating parts of my experience in Thailand. The script of Thai is beautiful, involving over 40 consonants and over 30 vowels, combined with 5 tones that are marked over consonants to create a pretty complicated language. I would say the majority of people I interacted with had a basic handling of English, but they often would slip back into Thai at random intervals, or their English was very heavily accented so I didn’t quite understand. I remember once when I was trying to bargain for a shirt, I could have sworn the saleswomen was speaking Chinese to me because she kept saying [what I heard as] “ni kan ni kan” (which in Chinese means, “you look you look”). After I heard that I excited replied in Chinese to her, because I just wanted to be able to use my—if I do say so myself—rather good Chinese bargaining skills, but then she just gave me a confused look. Either she was using Thai that sounded similar, or she was saying “can” as in “can you buy it for this price?” I tell ya, not being able to communicate, especially during bargaining/making purchases was very very frustrating, and I felt more like a foreigner than I ever have in China.
Another funny thing about the Thai language was the way Thai people answer their cell phones. They often say “Huhlllloooooooo”, with the first part (“heh”) dipping down and then the “low” part rising up from the bottom pitch. Strange to hear something so familiar but then not quite the same.
My classmate from UVA, Oh, picked me up from the airport and we went to Siam shopping center, which is apparently one of the largest or the largest shopping centers in East Asia. It was an enormous complex with multiple buildings and name brands I’d never heard of and food court after food court after food court. Just paying for parking was interesting, because the service person put her hands together at her chest (as if in Christian prayer, with the fingers straight) and then leaned her head downward, almost touching her nose to her fingers. This is called wai and is a way of showing respect in Thailand. Usually service people/sales people will do a wai and the customer can either wai in response or just nod the head. Also, whenever a younger person is introduced or says hello to someone older, he or she should definitely wai.
After Oh and I had chosen a restaurant in the Siam Shopping center, I encountered another difference that I wasn’t accustomed to. We ordered a curry and a salad, and I was surprised that we were each given a fork and a spoon—no chopsticks and no knife. I started using the spoon as a knife with my left hand, and then used the fork how I would in America. Oh laughed at me and told me I had it the opposite way around—the spoon should go in the right hand and the fork should be used to scoop food onto the spoon before eating it. I suppose it shows my ignorance, but I had no idea people ate with spoons and forks in such a way!
I arrived on Friday, and the following Tuesday was the Queen of Thailand’s birthday, so pictures of her (and the King, and other members of the Royal Family) were all around the city. Neat Fact that Oh told me: the King is said to always have a camera, pencil, and map with him whenever he goes out.
I had read about the seriousness of respecting the royal family in my guidebook, apparently stepping on a dollar bill (which has the king’s face) is a serious offense and punishable. Oh told me that people do take it seriously, but that he has rarely heard of these types of occurrences.
On Friday night, we went to a bar in the gay district in Bangkok. We were lucky to arrive right at the beginning of a Cabaret show, which was quite an amazing sight. The stage had about six or so performers at a time, dancing precisely choreographed numbers behind a diva singing her heart out. Before I had heard about the “ladyboys” of Thailand—men who either cross dress, had a full sex change, or somewhere in between—but wow I was stunned to this performance in real life. Some of the performers were GORGEOUS—I would really never imagine that they once before, or even at the time, were men. Perfectly formed bodies, too! Even thought the club was packed and we only had a half-view, it was really exciting, and also punctuated by some comic relief when an extremely large ladyboy (she was probably near 300 pounds) would come onto the stage and sing very romantic songs in her long, elegant dress. Quite an experience.
As we were weaving in and out of the night market stands (EVERYTHING was being sold at bargain prices—shirts, jeans, DVDs, souvenirs, socks) on the way back to my hostel, we came across an elephant on a leash. Earlier in the day I saw a man riding an elephant on the busy streets of Thailand, and Oh told me that keeping elephants in the city is actually illegal according to Thai law, falling under cruelty to animals. So, I felt bad when I encouraged the whole situation by paying 10 baht to the “owner” so that I could feel the elephant. Well, the elephant must have been starving because it ate the food out of my hand as soon as I took it out of the bag. Hahha, what a tourist moment.
The next day Oh and I went to the Grand Palace, the (very) old home of the King and Queen. As we were walking to get a taxi (Oh was not a fan of the very touristy “tuk-tuks”—motocycle taxis, and in fact I’m glad we didn’t ride them, because I met not a few other westerners like myself who said tuk-tuk drivers “took-took” (hah) them to random places to buy stuff, rather then going to the actual location asked for by the passenger), but so we were walking and all the sudden we heard the screams of several teenage girls. We looked to our right and saw several girls running together—toward the entrance of a hotel. Naturally, Oh and I started running as well, even though we didn’t have the posters in our hands that many of these probably middle-school or high-school aged girls had. We soon saw the fronts of the posters, and it looked like some sort of Korean celebrity… maybe he was staying in the hotel or something. But by the time we got closer, the girls seemed to have given up and then walked back to the shade—waiting, waiting for the next time when he might come down to the first floor. Another funny experience.
It is only used for special ceremonies now though. In the palace compound is Wat Phra Kaew, one of the most beautiful places I’ve been to yet. Pictures do all the talking here.
We also went to another very very old Buddhist temple, Wat Arun. Buddhism is the State Religion in Thailand.
It was particularly interesting seeing these temples to me, because in Thailand and many other South and Southeast Asian countries they practice Theravada Buddhism, which is different from Mahayana Buddhism which is practiced in China, Korea, and Japan (and other regions). (And of course both of these are different than Variyana Buddhism, which is practiced in Tibet.) The main difference, if I’m remembering correctly, is that Theravada Buddhism focuses mainly on the actual teachings of the Buddha himself and thus encourages individual salvation and enlightenment, whereas Mahayana Buddhism posits that there are several Bodhisattvas who are also very influential to believers. A Bodhisattva is an individual who has almost reached Enlightenment but then decided not to fully renounce the world and in fact stay on in the world to help others achieve Enlightenment. Any of my Buddhist friends, or anyone else in-the-know, please feel free to comment to correct/supplement this brief description!
In general, though, I would say that these two temples I saw in Thailand were much more ornate than those I’ve seen in China. The details and amount of ornamentation surpasses many Chinese temples in splendor and, well, shiny-ness.
Saturday evening I went with my other UVa classmate, Napatra, to Siam Shopping Center again just to walk around and buy some street clothes (all of which I’m very proud of because they’re so hip!). We saw a really neat photo exhibit about the importance of environmental protection for a sustainable future. We also came across a very strange event taking place in a public space outside of the shopping mall: a Japanese Anime Dress-up Competition?! Look at some of the crazzzy costumes people were wearing:
The next day Oh took me to the Old Parliament building to see an exhibit about some artisan creations for the King and Queen. On the way to the exhibit, we had to take a detour because there was a protest… perhaps against the Parliament, my friend thought. There are many complaints against corruption and manipulation of rural peoples during election time. The exhibit itself was amazing, some really beautiful pieces of work—unfortunately no cameras were allowed inside, but I took these from the outside. Very interesting to architecture, too, eh?
One thing that left me confused about Thailand was the seemingly contradictory ideas about gender. While one night I was able to see the thriving ladyboy culture, the next day I was witness to the strictly genderized requirements of temples and buildings like the Old Parliament Building. Men had to cover their legs, so they could wear pants or, if they forgot to wear pants (like I did at the Old Parliament building), he could buy a piece of cloth to tie around the waste. However, women had to be wearing skirts at these locations—even if she was wearing pants. Seems kind of gender reinforcing, doesn’t it?
I wish I had had more time to spend in Bangkok—I know I still only scratched the surface of a very unique culture very rooted in history. The stories Oh told me about past Kings of Thailand were pretty amazing, and it was very eye opening for me to see such a large, distinctly different city in another part of the world other than the States or China.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
HUBEI conference and summer camp !
Ok, unfortunately this hostel computer in Bangkok is not allowing me to add pictures. Maybe I'll try again in a second, but if it doesn't go through, you'll just have to read the book and use your imagination!
We arrived to Wuhan, the capital of Hubei province in central China, on the 23rd of July. The next day we would participate in another four-day education conference hosted by the American NGO, Education and Science Society (ESS), and make the same presentations to rural educators, principles, and members of the Hubei Education Bureau. I felt much more comfortable with my speech and powerpoint after having survived the first take in Haikou, so I was excited (and also relieved) to be presenting on the 3rd day of the conference.
Four of the ESS members that also came to participate in the conference were from Washington State and spoke nothing more than “thank you” and “one bottle of beer” in Chinese. Therefore, all the ACC FS students in my program were expected to serve as their translators at least once. On the first day of the conference, I was assigned to be the translator of an elementary school educator who had over 20 years of experience teaching in Seattle.
A picture of the four educators from the Washington.
The opening remarks of the conference were fairly easy to translate to him, mostly because everyone was just saying the same thing over and over again: “We are so honored to have this opportunity blah blah blah, we would like to thank blah blah blah, China has modernized so quickly and improved so much but can still get better blah blah blah.” This is my first experience translating on the spot, however, so it was tough getting used to the Need For Speed. I never realized how hard it can be to explain exactly what is being said in another language—very frustrating because I felt like I understood about 98%, but then I found I couldn’t share that information! Haha, it was a challenge, but very interesting.
After the opening remarks were made, a journalist tapped me on the shoulder asking if she could ask the “foreigner teacher” some questions and have me translate for her. I couldn’t really say no, so I did my best to help the journalist understand how American elementary schoolers are evaluated by teachers, the curriculum requirements and accompanying standardized tests, and teachers’ methods of disciplining children in the classroom. This was a crazy experience because both the journalist and the American teacher were looking at me so intently, even when I wasn’t speaking a language they understood. I sweat a lot, but I –hope- I did a fair job! Either way, as the middle man, my name wasn’t taken down so I’m off the hook right?
The next speaker was a very famous neuroscience/psychology professor from Taiwan, Professor Hong Lan. She was to be the main focus of this conference, providing insight into the way the mind works and effective ways of fostering healthy learning environments for children. In total she gave 5 different talks, topics ranging from sleep/dreams to language acquisition to male-female brain-size differences. The speech that I was forced to translate was about understanding the world from a child’s perspective and the importance of encouraging children to explain their answers, rather than scolding them if they do not answer correctly or ideally, etc. Translating this speech was reallllly rough because not only did this professor speak very quickly, she also had a slight Taiwanese accent and her powerpoint used all traditional characters, many of which I could not identify. When she started talking about different regions of the brain and the showing slides of different brain scans, I had to apologize to my American teacher because I had no better idea than he had.
In Hubei many of the Chinese participants in the conference were very excited to interact with us American students and took every opportunity they could for “cultural exchange.” For example, after the first night of our presentations (the topics that day were The Importance of Art/Pictures in the Classroom, Supplementary Arts Education in America, Health Education in American Public Schools, and How Teachers Use Games to Educate), one Chinese principal asked the four students who had just presented, “So, what’s your opinion on the American War for Oil?” Someone also asked, “Are there a lot of gay people in America? How are they received?” So, although totally unrelated to education or the powerpoints that we students had spent so much time preparing, this experience showed the curiosity and interest of many of the Chinese participants. Of course, we are hardly qualified to represent the views of all Americans (especially in our clumsy Chinese), so some of my classmates were frustrated that the topics strayed as they did. Personally I think it was a good and interesting opportunity for everyone.
Huijun and Bingbing answering questions written by the audience after they had finished presenting.
My presentation this time went quite well—no bug swallowing or anything. I think I spoke a little faster and didn’t sound quite as nervous. Two people also told me that it was a suiting and interesting topic for Chinese education. In addition to this, several other questions about American education system and teaching styles were asked, for example, “Do American schools include ‘Patriotism’ or ‘Morality’ classes?” The guy that asked this question actually found me after we had finished the entire session and asked for my email. He wanted to discuss with me the situation in Tibet and American understandings of Mao Zedong and modern China. Pretty awesome opportunity, I think!
Here are some pictures from our presentation session:
Another question posed was, “Many Chinese students currently lack the ability complete tasks by themselves and always need the help and/or approval of teachers. Can you give any suggestions as to ways that teachers can encourage students to develop this ability?” This was kind of odd for us to answer, given that we are not teachers, and even our 3 day experience teaching at a summer camp in Lingao couldn’t really shed much insight. We did our best though—I said that fundamentally this issue is related to students’ self-esteem, because if they are confident in their own answers and other abilities, they won’t feel the need to seek ask the teacher as many questions. My suggestion was to always encourage kids by saying things like “great!” or “fantastic,” because such comments would always elicit a huge smile from the kids in Lingao, and sometimes they would even whisper to each other, “Teacher just said we are fantastic!”
After the conference ended, we went to Xiaochang, an impoverished and relatively new county about an hour and a half from Wuhan. We had another 3 day summer camp, teaching the same classes (Geography and Art for me) to 5th and 6th graders. The kids in Xiaochang were interesting, but unfortunately, when compared with Lingao, less surprised and enthused about some of my activities. I was also somewhat startled when, in 5th grade class 4, a student’s cell phone went off and he excused himself to talk with whoever it was. Especially in Art class, I would offer to give the students some markers/colored pencils that I had bought in Beijing, but the kids would say, “Oh, um, well, I have my own, thanks.” In geography class, there were also some big time Wiz Kids, who knew where everything was on the Chinese AND American map; when I asked them how they were so smart, they said, “We have our own maps at home.”
Some of the students were really creative though, and really got excited about presenting their completed maps to their classmates. For example, one group who was presenting about tourist attraction in Hubei really took on the role of a tourguide, offering supplementary information and really selling the locations! Also, quite a few kids really got into being ‘meteorologists’ and telling us the weather of some of the major cities in Hubei.
Once again, though, there was always the bad occasional bad class. Always seemed to happen in Art for some reason… the creative energies that I was trying to unleash were just too much sometimes, I guess, hahah. One class in particular, when playing the “art pass” game, turned into a big fight. The gender boundaries are pretty divided in Xiaochang, and the boys and girls are rarely willing to work together or even sit together. So when the activity started, all the girls were drawing pretty young ladies wearing dresses and big houses with trees and birdies… but then five minutes later when the piece of art arrived to the guys, one student thought it would be funny to draw poop all over the house and trees, and even made it look as if the little princess had pooped her dress. Of course, once this happened the idea spread like wildfire and suddenly I had seven 11 year old boys drawing large piles of shit everywhere. Soon enough a girl stood up and ripped her original art piece out of the hands of her classmate and started hitting him over the head and everyone started screaming. I put a quick end to it by telling them 如果你们会是这样子的，你们就可以离开！我没想到你们这么缺乏合作的精神！把所有的画画还给老师！ “If you’re going to be like this, then just leave! I had no idea you guys lacked such an ability to work together! Give all the art pieces back to me!” At that point we still had 15 minutes left of class because the activity was cut short, so I had to think quickly about what we could do. Then I remembered a favorite game from elementary school, Heads Up 7 Up. Luckily they understood the directions that I spat out without thinking, and they had a fun time playing that for the last couple minutes before the bell.
The students all gave us lots of gifts and held a final performance for us before we left their county. It was pretty wild—lots of crazy, but well-rehearsed, dancing performances.
Well, those are some of the most memorable experiences with the ACC teaching class and giving the large presentation. After we finished the 2nd day camp, we went to the 3 gorges dam and Mulan mountain lake (yes, Mulan like the Disney movie)! Honestly though, both of those places weren’t all that interesting, and I’ve already written a novel here.
I arrived to Thailand yesterday, which has been really fascinating so far. I will make a post soon about some of my experiences here before going over to Malaysia next week!
We arrived to Wuhan, the capital of Hubei province in central China, on the 23rd of July. The next day we would participate in another four-day education conference hosted by the American NGO, Education and Science Society (ESS), and make the same presentations to rural educators, principles, and members of the Hubei Education Bureau. I felt much more comfortable with my speech and powerpoint after having survived the first take in Haikou, so I was excited (and also relieved) to be presenting on the 3rd day of the conference.
Four of the ESS members that also came to participate in the conference were from Washington State and spoke nothing more than “thank you” and “one bottle of beer” in Chinese. Therefore, all the ACC FS students in my program were expected to serve as their translators at least once. On the first day of the conference, I was assigned to be the translator of an elementary school educator who had over 20 years of experience teaching in Seattle.
A picture of the four educators from the Washington.
The opening remarks of the conference were fairly easy to translate to him, mostly because everyone was just saying the same thing over and over again: “We are so honored to have this opportunity blah blah blah, we would like to thank blah blah blah, China has modernized so quickly and improved so much but can still get better blah blah blah.” This is my first experience translating on the spot, however, so it was tough getting used to the Need For Speed. I never realized how hard it can be to explain exactly what is being said in another language—very frustrating because I felt like I understood about 98%, but then I found I couldn’t share that information! Haha, it was a challenge, but very interesting.
After the opening remarks were made, a journalist tapped me on the shoulder asking if she could ask the “foreigner teacher” some questions and have me translate for her. I couldn’t really say no, so I did my best to help the journalist understand how American elementary schoolers are evaluated by teachers, the curriculum requirements and accompanying standardized tests, and teachers’ methods of disciplining children in the classroom. This was a crazy experience because both the journalist and the American teacher were looking at me so intently, even when I wasn’t speaking a language they understood. I sweat a lot, but I –hope- I did a fair job! Either way, as the middle man, my name wasn’t taken down so I’m off the hook right?
The next speaker was a very famous neuroscience/psychology professor from Taiwan, Professor Hong Lan. She was to be the main focus of this conference, providing insight into the way the mind works and effective ways of fostering healthy learning environments for children. In total she gave 5 different talks, topics ranging from sleep/dreams to language acquisition to male-female brain-size differences. The speech that I was forced to translate was about understanding the world from a child’s perspective and the importance of encouraging children to explain their answers, rather than scolding them if they do not answer correctly or ideally, etc. Translating this speech was reallllly rough because not only did this professor speak very quickly, she also had a slight Taiwanese accent and her powerpoint used all traditional characters, many of which I could not identify. When she started talking about different regions of the brain and the showing slides of different brain scans, I had to apologize to my American teacher because I had no better idea than he had.
In Hubei many of the Chinese participants in the conference were very excited to interact with us American students and took every opportunity they could for “cultural exchange.” For example, after the first night of our presentations (the topics that day were The Importance of Art/Pictures in the Classroom, Supplementary Arts Education in America, Health Education in American Public Schools, and How Teachers Use Games to Educate), one Chinese principal asked the four students who had just presented, “So, what’s your opinion on the American War for Oil?” Someone also asked, “Are there a lot of gay people in America? How are they received?” So, although totally unrelated to education or the powerpoints that we students had spent so much time preparing, this experience showed the curiosity and interest of many of the Chinese participants. Of course, we are hardly qualified to represent the views of all Americans (especially in our clumsy Chinese), so some of my classmates were frustrated that the topics strayed as they did. Personally I think it was a good and interesting opportunity for everyone.
Huijun and Bingbing answering questions written by the audience after they had finished presenting.
My presentation this time went quite well—no bug swallowing or anything. I think I spoke a little faster and didn’t sound quite as nervous. Two people also told me that it was a suiting and interesting topic for Chinese education. In addition to this, several other questions about American education system and teaching styles were asked, for example, “Do American schools include ‘Patriotism’ or ‘Morality’ classes?” The guy that asked this question actually found me after we had finished the entire session and asked for my email. He wanted to discuss with me the situation in Tibet and American understandings of Mao Zedong and modern China. Pretty awesome opportunity, I think!
Here are some pictures from our presentation session:
Another question posed was, “Many Chinese students currently lack the ability complete tasks by themselves and always need the help and/or approval of teachers. Can you give any suggestions as to ways that teachers can encourage students to develop this ability?” This was kind of odd for us to answer, given that we are not teachers, and even our 3 day experience teaching at a summer camp in Lingao couldn’t really shed much insight. We did our best though—I said that fundamentally this issue is related to students’ self-esteem, because if they are confident in their own answers and other abilities, they won’t feel the need to seek ask the teacher as many questions. My suggestion was to always encourage kids by saying things like “great!” or “fantastic,” because such comments would always elicit a huge smile from the kids in Lingao, and sometimes they would even whisper to each other, “Teacher just said we are fantastic!”
After the conference ended, we went to Xiaochang, an impoverished and relatively new county about an hour and a half from Wuhan. We had another 3 day summer camp, teaching the same classes (Geography and Art for me) to 5th and 6th graders. The kids in Xiaochang were interesting, but unfortunately, when compared with Lingao, less surprised and enthused about some of my activities. I was also somewhat startled when, in 5th grade class 4, a student’s cell phone went off and he excused himself to talk with whoever it was. Especially in Art class, I would offer to give the students some markers/colored pencils that I had bought in Beijing, but the kids would say, “Oh, um, well, I have my own, thanks.” In geography class, there were also some big time Wiz Kids, who knew where everything was on the Chinese AND American map; when I asked them how they were so smart, they said, “We have our own maps at home.”
Some of the students were really creative though, and really got excited about presenting their completed maps to their classmates. For example, one group who was presenting about tourist attraction in Hubei really took on the role of a tourguide, offering supplementary information and really selling the locations! Also, quite a few kids really got into being ‘meteorologists’ and telling us the weather of some of the major cities in Hubei.
Once again, though, there was always the bad occasional bad class. Always seemed to happen in Art for some reason… the creative energies that I was trying to unleash were just too much sometimes, I guess, hahah. One class in particular, when playing the “art pass” game, turned into a big fight. The gender boundaries are pretty divided in Xiaochang, and the boys and girls are rarely willing to work together or even sit together. So when the activity started, all the girls were drawing pretty young ladies wearing dresses and big houses with trees and birdies… but then five minutes later when the piece of art arrived to the guys, one student thought it would be funny to draw poop all over the house and trees, and even made it look as if the little princess had pooped her dress. Of course, once this happened the idea spread like wildfire and suddenly I had seven 11 year old boys drawing large piles of shit everywhere. Soon enough a girl stood up and ripped her original art piece out of the hands of her classmate and started hitting him over the head and everyone started screaming. I put a quick end to it by telling them 如果你们会是这样子的，你们就可以离开！我没想到你们这么缺乏合作的精神！把所有的画画还给老师！ “If you’re going to be like this, then just leave! I had no idea you guys lacked such an ability to work together! Give all the art pieces back to me!” At that point we still had 15 minutes left of class because the activity was cut short, so I had to think quickly about what we could do. Then I remembered a favorite game from elementary school, Heads Up 7 Up. Luckily they understood the directions that I spat out without thinking, and they had a fun time playing that for the last couple minutes before the bell.
The students all gave us lots of gifts and held a final performance for us before we left their county. It was pretty wild—lots of crazy, but well-rehearsed, dancing performances.
Well, those are some of the most memorable experiences with the ACC teaching class and giving the large presentation. After we finished the 2nd day camp, we went to the 3 gorges dam and Mulan mountain lake (yes, Mulan like the Disney movie)! Honestly though, both of those places weren’t all that interesting, and I’ve already written a novel here.
I arrived to Thailand yesterday, which has been really fascinating so far. I will make a post soon about some of my experiences here before going over to Malaysia next week!
Thursday, July 31, 2008
HAINAN EVENTS
Aiya, sorry I haven't made a post in a long long time... we have not had internet in our room in forever! I've been able to go to local 网吧 wangba (internet cafes) to check email and so on and so forth, but I was advised against bringing pictures on a external harddrive there because I might get a virus. Anyway, we're currently in 宜昌 Yichang, which is a city in the west of Hubei province. We will be seeing the 3 gorges dam tomorrow, and then returning to 武汉, the captial of Hubei. We're going back to Beijing on the 4th, and then the program ends on the 8th!
This post, however, is about our time in 海南 Hainan, the island south of China (not Taiwan, which is on the east coast of China). The first part of our stay there was in the capital of the province, 海口 Haikou. I made a presentation there about Mentorship programs in America and how they impact children, the volunteers (big brothers/big sisters) themselves, and the entire community-- ending with a quotation from Mao Zedong (whose name made a lot of people wake up and perk up).
This is me before I made the presentation. This is my teacher, Fan Laoshi, making sure our powerpoints are all set up.
3 of my fellow students and I all presented on the first day of the four day conference, but our presentation was held in the large main auditorium. Here is a picture of the auditorium:
Even though it's really blurry, you can get the idea of the size... I would say probably around 400 or so school principals, teachers, and education specialists were there listening.
This is a picture of me before I presented. That's my name in Chinese on the pink piece of paper. Can you see my nervousness? My hands kept shaking during the presentation, until I finally sat on them and calmed down a bit. Also, probably somewhere on the 3rd slide of my ppt, I somehow managed to swallow a bug. Haikou is a very buggy city, being in the very warm South China Sea, so I embarrassingly coughed for a while. Overall, though, it went pretty well, I think, and I felt very relieved to have completed it.
Because our four presentations went pretty long, there was only time for three questions for all of us, and only one was directed toward my presentation. It was a question that was also asked to everyone, thouguh: "思谛同学，你说你只学了两年中文，那，你们怎么说这么棒呢？! Fellow Student Sidi (a polite address), you say you've only studied Chinese for two years, How do you all speak so well?!" Oh those polite Chinese....
After the conference was over, we went to 临高 Lingao county, a more rural and quite poor region about an hour and a half from Haikou.
A picture of farming lands in Lingao.
We taught for 3 days at a "summer camp" for Lingao 4th and 5th graders-- who were selected from their classes. Usually each homeroom class has over 70 students; we taught classes of 12. When we arrived to the school on the first day, all the children were lined up to greet us, and they were waving plastic flowers and chanting 热烈欢迎、欢迎欢迎 WELCOME!!
You can see the kids lined up before the main hall in the school.
On the first day I taught 2 geography classes, then 2 art classes. The next day, 3 geography classes and 2 art classes. The final day, 1 geography class and 2 art classes. We never taught the same class twice. Needless to say, I was exhausted every single day, and we pretty much fell asleep each night at 9:30pm.
The heat in Lingao was really ridiculous. For example, outside of our hotel I bought a type of cracker that I always like eating. It has two crackers and a sweet type of filling in the middle-- kind of like a Ritz or Oreo. When I opened the package that I just purchased from the street vendor, I found that the filling had all evaporated-- It was a bag full of crackers and nothing else! I thought of complaining, but it was 2 kuai so I just dealt with it.
Here is a picture of one of my geography classes. The activity I had planned for them was to break the 12 students into 4 groups, and have each group create a map of Hainan province and then present to their class mates (about the major cities/bordering waters, weather, population distribution, and tourist locations). In this picture the groups are following the directions I typed out and gave to each group. I was trying to emphasize working together and communication, and sometimes it was very very successful. It was great to see kids sharing responsibilities-- one student cutting out circles for the major cities, one student writing the city name on top of the circle, and the third student gluing it on the map. Other times, though, one student would take over and not share markers, etc etc.
Here are the students presenting. You can see the three kids standing next to their small map, which is hanging next to a larger map of Hainan province in the center.
I also added some new parts to the course as I got the hang of what they students understood and what they didn't. I started requiring each group to write on their group's map where they thought Lingao county (where they lived) was on Hainan island. This was really fun, because students really didn't want to be wrong. They would plead with me to tell them where it was, and my usual response would be, "How would I know?? I'm just an American!"
Here is a picture of one of my favorite classes-- you can see their four maps on the blackboard hanging next to the map of China in the center.
Sometimes it was really difficult to communicate with the kids. Lingao has their own dialect that is a combination of Cantonese, Thai, and Vietnamese. So even when the students spoke standard Mandarin (which is what we've been studying), their tones were often inaccurate or difficult for me to understand. I thought this would work to my advantage becasue then I could speak sloppy Chinese and they'd get it, but NO I was wrong.
It was amazing that saying 西边 West as xi1bian4 instead of xi1bian1 (a minor tone difference) could leave me only with confused faces and students mumbling to each other in their local dialect, probably asking "What is the guy saying to us??" I think this was the first time I really realized just how important it is to speak really clearly ALL the time-- I often get tired and/or lazy and revert back to my monotone American voice. This definitely did not fly with the kids, and they were often quick to tell me, "Teacher, you're not making any sense!!!"
Art class was also interesting. To be honest, I wasn't as excited to teach it because I knew it would depend a lot on the kids using their creativity, which is often hard because the kids are pretty shy (especially when there is a weird foreigner talking to them!). So my art class was really hit or miss-- sometimes the kids LOVED it and thought it was really fun, other times they were not about it and very bad.
The two main activities I planned for the kids in Hainan were making collages and playing an art/drawing game. The collage was interesting... sometimes kids would really use their imagination-- cutting the heads from one person and sticking it on the body of an animal or another person's body, really quite funny. Other times, though, the collages were just squares next to each other... perhaps this was my fault for not really explaining all that well, but for the most part they enjoyed it. Once again I was hoping they'd be able to work together-- each group of 6 students only had 3 scissors and 2 glue sticks. So sometimes this caused kids to yell at each other, which made me really nervous. Once a dissatisfied student said to me, "Teacher, don't you think this is wasteful? We're cutting up all these magazines!"
The second activity is a game I've played before in America, and to be honest, it's pretty challenging. Each student is given a piece of a paper and can draw whatever he/she would like for 1 minute. After one minute, though, the piece of paper is passed to the next student. So after receiving the new piece of paper with another student's drawing, you have to add to it, and then ultimately after you receive your first paper, you can see what it's turned into.
Once again, some classes really liked this activity, others did not. After students had received their initial paper, I always asked each student to come to the front and explain to us what his/her picture was about. Once again, the language barrier kinda was a problem here. I often didn't know what vocabulary they were using to explain their art... but that didn't stop me from just saying, "OH! WONDERFUL!!" after just about every sentence.
Sometimes, however, students got very possessive of their original art work and started yelling at each other when they felt that other students were "ruining" it. I tried my best to explain that it's a group piece of art, but sometimes I think there was more going on than I knew about. One class, in particular, seemed to have some built up tensions and anger, and I unfortunately walked in with them on the last class of the day. I'm really not sure what exactly happened, mostly because (I think) they were speaking in their Lingao dialect, but one male student ended up crying. I really didn't know what to do, but I knew that the guy sitting next to him (and handing him the new pieces of paper) was just scribbling all over the art-- not really "adding" anything. But so then all the kids started yelling at each other and no one was drawing. In an angry moment, I shouted, "OK, NEW RULE! NO TALKING DURING THIS ACTIVITY!!!!" Who would have thought that Stephen would have it in him to shout such a thing in Chinese at a classroom full of 5th graders in rural Lingao, China?
But I don't want to focus on the negative. Here is one of my better art classes:
They were really great-- each time I would say, "OK, Time's up! Give your art work to your friend sitting to the right of you!" They would wail and then pass the piece of paper, and then look at the new piece of paper and scream out, "Oh my gosh!!! What is this!!!!" It was a lot of fun.
My experiences in Hubei were really interesting as well. I'll write a post about that when I get back to Beijing, hopefully comparing the two locations. Hard to believe the program is almost over!!
This post, however, is about our time in 海南 Hainan, the island south of China (not Taiwan, which is on the east coast of China). The first part of our stay there was in the capital of the province, 海口 Haikou. I made a presentation there about Mentorship programs in America and how they impact children, the volunteers (big brothers/big sisters) themselves, and the entire community-- ending with a quotation from Mao Zedong (whose name made a lot of people wake up and perk up).
This is me before I made the presentation. This is my teacher, Fan Laoshi, making sure our powerpoints are all set up.3 of my fellow students and I all presented on the first day of the four day conference, but our presentation was held in the large main auditorium. Here is a picture of the auditorium:
Even though it's really blurry, you can get the idea of the size... I would say probably around 400 or so school principals, teachers, and education specialists were there listening.
This is a picture of me before I presented. That's my name in Chinese on the pink piece of paper. Can you see my nervousness? My hands kept shaking during the presentation, until I finally sat on them and calmed down a bit. Also, probably somewhere on the 3rd slide of my ppt, I somehow managed to swallow a bug. Haikou is a very buggy city, being in the very warm South China Sea, so I embarrassingly coughed for a while. Overall, though, it went pretty well, I think, and I felt very relieved to have completed it.
Because our four presentations went pretty long, there was only time for three questions for all of us, and only one was directed toward my presentation. It was a question that was also asked to everyone, thouguh: "思谛同学，你说你只学了两年中文，那，你们怎么说这么棒呢？! Fellow Student Sidi (a polite address), you say you've only studied Chinese for two years, How do you all speak so well?!" Oh those polite Chinese....
After the conference was over, we went to 临高 Lingao county, a more rural and quite poor region about an hour and a half from Haikou.
A picture of farming lands in Lingao.We taught for 3 days at a "summer camp" for Lingao 4th and 5th graders-- who were selected from their classes. Usually each homeroom class has over 70 students; we taught classes of 12. When we arrived to the school on the first day, all the children were lined up to greet us, and they were waving plastic flowers and chanting 热烈欢迎、欢迎欢迎 WELCOME!!
You can see the kids lined up before the main hall in the school.On the first day I taught 2 geography classes, then 2 art classes. The next day, 3 geography classes and 2 art classes. The final day, 1 geography class and 2 art classes. We never taught the same class twice. Needless to say, I was exhausted every single day, and we pretty much fell asleep each night at 9:30pm.
The heat in Lingao was really ridiculous. For example, outside of our hotel I bought a type of cracker that I always like eating. It has two crackers and a sweet type of filling in the middle-- kind of like a Ritz or Oreo. When I opened the package that I just purchased from the street vendor, I found that the filling had all evaporated-- It was a bag full of crackers and nothing else! I thought of complaining, but it was 2 kuai so I just dealt with it.
Here is a picture of one of my geography classes. The activity I had planned for them was to break the 12 students into 4 groups, and have each group create a map of Hainan province and then present to their class mates (about the major cities/bordering waters, weather, population distribution, and tourist locations). In this picture the groups are following the directions I typed out and gave to each group. I was trying to emphasize working together and communication, and sometimes it was very very successful. It was great to see kids sharing responsibilities-- one student cutting out circles for the major cities, one student writing the city name on top of the circle, and the third student gluing it on the map. Other times, though, one student would take over and not share markers, etc etc.
Here are the students presenting. You can see the three kids standing next to their small map, which is hanging next to a larger map of Hainan province in the center.I also added some new parts to the course as I got the hang of what they students understood and what they didn't. I started requiring each group to write on their group's map where they thought Lingao county (where they lived) was on Hainan island. This was really fun, because students really didn't want to be wrong. They would plead with me to tell them where it was, and my usual response would be, "How would I know?? I'm just an American!"
Here is a picture of one of my favorite classes-- you can see their four maps on the blackboard hanging next to the map of China in the center.
Sometimes it was really difficult to communicate with the kids. Lingao has their own dialect that is a combination of Cantonese, Thai, and Vietnamese. So even when the students spoke standard Mandarin (which is what we've been studying), their tones were often inaccurate or difficult for me to understand. I thought this would work to my advantage becasue then I could speak sloppy Chinese and they'd get it, but NO I was wrong.
It was amazing that saying 西边 West as xi1bian4 instead of xi1bian1 (a minor tone difference) could leave me only with confused faces and students mumbling to each other in their local dialect, probably asking "What is the guy saying to us??" I think this was the first time I really realized just how important it is to speak really clearly ALL the time-- I often get tired and/or lazy and revert back to my monotone American voice. This definitely did not fly with the kids, and they were often quick to tell me, "Teacher, you're not making any sense!!!"
Art class was also interesting. To be honest, I wasn't as excited to teach it because I knew it would depend a lot on the kids using their creativity, which is often hard because the kids are pretty shy (especially when there is a weird foreigner talking to them!). So my art class was really hit or miss-- sometimes the kids LOVED it and thought it was really fun, other times they were not about it and very bad.
The two main activities I planned for the kids in Hainan were making collages and playing an art/drawing game. The collage was interesting... sometimes kids would really use their imagination-- cutting the heads from one person and sticking it on the body of an animal or another person's body, really quite funny. Other times, though, the collages were just squares next to each other... perhaps this was my fault for not really explaining all that well, but for the most part they enjoyed it. Once again I was hoping they'd be able to work together-- each group of 6 students only had 3 scissors and 2 glue sticks. So sometimes this caused kids to yell at each other, which made me really nervous. Once a dissatisfied student said to me, "Teacher, don't you think this is wasteful? We're cutting up all these magazines!"
The second activity is a game I've played before in America, and to be honest, it's pretty challenging. Each student is given a piece of a paper and can draw whatever he/she would like for 1 minute. After one minute, though, the piece of paper is passed to the next student. So after receiving the new piece of paper with another student's drawing, you have to add to it, and then ultimately after you receive your first paper, you can see what it's turned into.
Once again, some classes really liked this activity, others did not. After students had received their initial paper, I always asked each student to come to the front and explain to us what his/her picture was about. Once again, the language barrier kinda was a problem here. I often didn't know what vocabulary they were using to explain their art... but that didn't stop me from just saying, "OH! WONDERFUL!!" after just about every sentence. Sometimes, however, students got very possessive of their original art work and started yelling at each other when they felt that other students were "ruining" it. I tried my best to explain that it's a group piece of art, but sometimes I think there was more going on than I knew about. One class, in particular, seemed to have some built up tensions and anger, and I unfortunately walked in with them on the last class of the day. I'm really not sure what exactly happened, mostly because (I think) they were speaking in their Lingao dialect, but one male student ended up crying. I really didn't know what to do, but I knew that the guy sitting next to him (and handing him the new pieces of paper) was just scribbling all over the art-- not really "adding" anything. But so then all the kids started yelling at each other and no one was drawing. In an angry moment, I shouted, "OK, NEW RULE! NO TALKING DURING THIS ACTIVITY!!!!" Who would have thought that Stephen would have it in him to shout such a thing in Chinese at a classroom full of 5th graders in rural Lingao, China?
But I don't want to focus on the negative. Here is one of my better art classes:
They were really great-- each time I would say, "OK, Time's up! Give your art work to your friend sitting to the right of you!" They would wail and then pass the piece of paper, and then look at the new piece of paper and scream out, "Oh my gosh!!! What is this!!!!" It was a lot of fun.
My experiences in Hubei were really interesting as well. I'll write a post about that when I get back to Beijing, hopefully comparing the two locations. Hard to believe the program is almost over!!
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Sacred Buddhist Mountain #2
So, my last week in Beijing was a blur-- lots of late nights working on my class and perfecting my speech for the big presentation. So unfortunately I didn't have a chance to go out and take pictures of some of the things I wanted to put on here.... We return to the Capital on August 4th, and I'll be there for 4 days for what the teachers are calling "Debriefing," so hopefully I'll have more free time then to write about the changes I saw in Beijing from last year/this. Also comment on the Olympic Fervor that I could already feel in July-- I can't imagine what it'll feel like 4 days before the games begin!
We rode the train to Xinzhou, Shanxi Province on Friday night. We arrived early Friday morning and then took a 4 hour bus to 五台山 Mt. Taishan, one of the 4 most important mountains to believers of Chinese Buddhism. Last year I went to 峨眉山 Mt Emei (one of the other 3) with my friend Steven Pong, but unfortunately it was rainy and we didn't get to see the big Buddha at the top of the summit. Today the weather was gorgeous though, and we climbed one of the 5 peaks.
This is a view of the summit we climbed from across the valley.
There are 5 main peaks-- one in each direction and one in the center. The climb was pretty steep-- steps all the way. Still nothing compared to Mt Emei, but very intense. There were a couple interesting things I noticed on this journey up to the top, though. First, there were a lot of very devoted people who were knocking their heads to the ground every step or every three steps. I've tried full body prostrations before and believe me it's not easy on level ground. I couldn't even imagine prostrating every step up a mountain!! Some of the monks that were doing this had large bruises on their foreheads from where they hit the ground each step.
You can see the girl prostrating, and the monk further behind the standing man also prostrating.
As we started on the climb up the mountain, there were a lot of beggars. Probably about every 10 steps we would have to weave left or right to avoid them. The interesting thing was, there were two distinct categories. One category, and actually they shouldn't technically be called beggars, was Monks-- they often had a hat or a bowl turned up and greeted everyone with "Amitaba"--the name of the Buddha of Compassion-- instead of Hello. The second ground of beggars were physically deformed. They would often wag their severed limbs at everyone breathing heavily from the climb, or sometimes they would just lay down right in the middle of the steps and repeat "Amitaba" over and over.
Also as we got higher, we had to start avoiding piles of vomit where visitors couldn't handle the altitude + exercise. Not so pleasant.
However, the top of the summit was great! And the temple was very pretty:
My friend Huijun and I at the top.
My fellow students and a friendly Monk at one of the temples
One of various ornate obelisks near the temple.
An incense burner and various devotees.
A very funny thing happened while we were at the temple atop the mountain. Our teacher wanted to get a picture of all the ACC students in front of a gateway, and we were starting to get impatient with how long everyone was taking in front of us. So, in a very Chinese manner, we just stormed to the front and shoved our way in front of the guy who was about to have his picture taken. But when he saw that there were 16 Americans now behind him, he shouted "QUICK, TAKE A PICTURE!"
Perhaps it's the diversity of our group that amazes people-- we have 3 black students, as well as several mixed students, a student of Indian heritage... plus, of course the 6 white kids. So we're quite a sight to see, apparently. After this one gentlemen discovered that he could get a free picture with us, everyone started rushing toward us! For about 6 minutes we couldn't get the tourists to leave us alone! Our teacher kept saying, "HEY, we want to take a picture of just us now!" But they wouldn't listen... they kept running up to us and telling their travel buddy, "Qucik! Take the picture!!" It was pretty ridiculous, but really funny
A picture of the decent-- this route had no stairs, and in fact you could pay extra to ride a horse down if you so desired!
We are spending tomorrow in Taiyuan, the capital of Shanxi, and then we will fly to Haikou, the capital of Hainan Province and island early Tuesday morning. The first conference is on Wednesday, and I am one of the lucky 4 students who will be presenting on that day...! Please wish me luck-- I have 25 minutes to introduce Mentorship Programs in America, and then a 10 minute question/answer session. I'm still working on ironing out all the fine points of my speech... so hopefully I'll get to it before Wednesday!
We rode the train to Xinzhou, Shanxi Province on Friday night. We arrived early Friday morning and then took a 4 hour bus to 五台山 Mt. Taishan, one of the 4 most important mountains to believers of Chinese Buddhism. Last year I went to 峨眉山 Mt Emei (one of the other 3) with my friend Steven Pong, but unfortunately it was rainy and we didn't get to see the big Buddha at the top of the summit. Today the weather was gorgeous though, and we climbed one of the 5 peaks.
This is a view of the summit we climbed from across the valley.There are 5 main peaks-- one in each direction and one in the center. The climb was pretty steep-- steps all the way. Still nothing compared to Mt Emei, but very intense. There were a couple interesting things I noticed on this journey up to the top, though. First, there were a lot of very devoted people who were knocking their heads to the ground every step or every three steps. I've tried full body prostrations before and believe me it's not easy on level ground. I couldn't even imagine prostrating every step up a mountain!! Some of the monks that were doing this had large bruises on their foreheads from where they hit the ground each step.
You can see the girl prostrating, and the monk further behind the standing man also prostrating.As we started on the climb up the mountain, there were a lot of beggars. Probably about every 10 steps we would have to weave left or right to avoid them. The interesting thing was, there were two distinct categories. One category, and actually they shouldn't technically be called beggars, was Monks-- they often had a hat or a bowl turned up and greeted everyone with "Amitaba"--the name of the Buddha of Compassion-- instead of Hello. The second ground of beggars were physically deformed. They would often wag their severed limbs at everyone breathing heavily from the climb, or sometimes they would just lay down right in the middle of the steps and repeat "Amitaba" over and over.
Also as we got higher, we had to start avoiding piles of vomit where visitors couldn't handle the altitude + exercise. Not so pleasant.
However, the top of the summit was great! And the temple was very pretty:
My friend Huijun and I at the top.
My fellow students and a friendly Monk at one of the temples
One of various ornate obelisks near the temple.
An incense burner and various devotees. A very funny thing happened while we were at the temple atop the mountain. Our teacher wanted to get a picture of all the ACC students in front of a gateway, and we were starting to get impatient with how long everyone was taking in front of us. So, in a very Chinese manner, we just stormed to the front and shoved our way in front of the guy who was about to have his picture taken. But when he saw that there were 16 Americans now behind him, he shouted "QUICK, TAKE A PICTURE!"
Perhaps it's the diversity of our group that amazes people-- we have 3 black students, as well as several mixed students, a student of Indian heritage... plus, of course the 6 white kids. So we're quite a sight to see, apparently. After this one gentlemen discovered that he could get a free picture with us, everyone started rushing toward us! For about 6 minutes we couldn't get the tourists to leave us alone! Our teacher kept saying, "HEY, we want to take a picture of just us now!" But they wouldn't listen... they kept running up to us and telling their travel buddy, "Qucik! Take the picture!!" It was pretty ridiculous, but really funny
A picture of the decent-- this route had no stairs, and in fact you could pay extra to ride a horse down if you so desired!We are spending tomorrow in Taiyuan, the capital of Shanxi, and then we will fly to Haikou, the capital of Hainan Province and island early Tuesday morning. The first conference is on Wednesday, and I am one of the lucky 4 students who will be presenting on that day...! Please wish me luck-- I have 25 minutes to introduce Mentorship Programs in America, and then a 10 minute question/answer session. I'm still working on ironing out all the fine points of my speech... so hopefully I'll get to it before Wednesday!
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