Hello from the new laptop! My school gave me 1000RMB to put towards a new computer so I decided to just go for it and get a small one for 3500RMB. Somehow, I'd always assumed that "Computer City"  as it's called in Chinese would be far away but I've walked past it before on a long day when I just wandered through the city. For as much as I've growled and let things get to me that I shouldn't have, getting a birthday party invite out of the blue from the kind computer staff (who can't have been much older than me, or younger) reminded me of some of the wonderful things that come your way as a foreigner in Zhuzhou.

I've basically given away my weekends. I do an extra bit of teaching on Saturday mornings in exchange for lunch and cooking lessons here and there and on Saturday afternoon I also do an English Corner with primary schoolers. On Sundays, my one consolation is that I'm not teaching tai chi. I just get to be the student as shifu walks me through each step and teaches me a new warm up with each class. Then it's back to the work week. I love getting the last minute news that I have a day off on Monday or Friday. A day to sleep in and be tied to no one. Getting involved in something through clubs or volunteering is one way I try to work with my reclusive and introverted tendencies, but I still value a day of nothing at all. Maybe 4 years of living in a country where everything is closed on Sunday has influenced me too. I still find a small voice in my head that tells me that I have to get everything done on Saturdays despite being in China. It's funny to think of the things that stay with you when you've lived in another country for a while.

I've been stuck. In a lot of ways, I feel like I've lost sight of things and forgot how important it is to just focus on what's in your hands when things become less than ideal. A part of me knows it's a natural part of living in another country over time and that watching the novelty and the honeymoon period of adjustment fade is both frustrating and an opportunity to put things in perspective. Some might say the frustrations are just part of developing a more realistic/fuller understanding of the place I live in right now. I find myself getting a little vicious at times about things that are so small. Like when I go shopping for electronics and people try to find me something "more fashionable" or tell me I actually want this in red, not black, because I'm a young girl (but I'm a young girl almost always in dark jeans and something black). Or tired of last minute changes (though it's mostly OK, if I go to school and my class is cleaning, I had nothing else planned anyway so I may as well relax). I feel like I've never quite hit the high and fulfilling feeling that pushed me along last year, not to the same level or with the same frequency. On the other hand, Zhuzhou is constantly changing and I find new friends and people who fill my life and expand my understanding of life in China. There's P, the Uyghur man I wrote about last time who sells nan (at times, still looking for something romantic while I'm not sure). There's my neighbor who used to live in Dubai for work and now makes dumplings while creating spaces for people to practice speaking English. There's the Hui family from Lanzhou who greet me from their pulled noodle shop every time I pass. My "mom" and "dad" who run the tea shop where I get my caffeine fix and a lot of practice in speaking Chinese. Actually, I'm sure everyone on my street says hi to me now since I frequent their shops. It's kind of on purpose. One of my most rewarding travel experiences while I was in college was the summer I did an internship in Dublin, Ireland but found myself pulled into the songwriters and poetry community after joining a writers group. Since then, I've made an effort to frequent a place and be known or join something while I'm abroad.

It feels like there are things opening up to me only now, though I wonder if I should continue given all the swings and cycles I went through this time. A part of me says if I leave and try something else and find I want to be here teaching after all, then it's better to come back with purpose having other experiences with me. A part of me wonders about my chances of coming back if I leave. At times, I love this city and its surprises. At times, I'm anxious because I haven't been in the US for more than 3 months at a time for the past 6 years and there are times when I feel like an anthropologist rather than a local (to be fair, I think back on everything I learned about intercultural communications when I'm here in China too: high context vs low context culture, long term vs short term, Edward T. Hall's Silent Languages...). I also know how much I still haven't seen and keep finding. I feel like I've accomplished a lot of what I had in mind when I first signed up. I tried teaching, I grew in public speaking, I exercised a lot of what I learned about myself and intellectually while here, I've been finding my way in the Chinese language, I've made friends, and I've looked at one of my biggest anxieties (that I really was so sorely out of touch and spent so much time with books in some ivory tower that I had no real skills to offer to anyone anywhere) and seen it was nothing. I saw Xi'An and the terra cotta warriors, I fulfilled someone's prophecy that I would climb the Great Wall, I saw Guangzhou and Zhongshan, I started taijiquan, and after 4 years in Switzerland thinking hard about where I come from and where I've been, I found my way to a position where my own interests and education fit neatly with someone else's questions. I still have a ways to grow, but I've found confidence in my time here as I learned to trust myself and value things about myself I never considered to be real skills or talents. I know one of the most difficult things in going back to America when I was in college was coming back with the person I found while away, and occasionally feeling that with everyone's expectations from the past I couldn't always find room for that person. But that's also a comfort. To know that whichever direction I take from here on out, I take that person I found with me and all she's capable of. For all of its frustrations, I'll always be grateful to China for helping me find that person.

This past month has been full of surprises. My life is feeling a little like the picture book "Fortunately, Unfortunately". You know, the pages alternating between color and black and white as a boy who is falling from the sky discovers he has a parachute but realizes that he's getting closer to shark infested waters.

Let's get the big one. I'm on my tablet tapping away with my thumbs because my computer was stolen. I've spent enough time on all the details of what I found so I'll just say that I only lost my computer, I'm lucky my backup drive and iPod which were also on my desk were still there (though I wished I'd synced my Dropbox and backed up more recently), the school has offered to help partly pay for a new one, and we're looking at options for the security and living situation of future volunteers. Aside from moments where I can't sleep because of a noise or heightened awareness when I come home and look to see if anything is different, I'm fine. I feel safe, it was partly my mistake for not locking the second door and changing the battery in my security camera so I'm extra careful about those now. I lso feel that since my computer was already taken well...they got what they wanted?

On a happier note, I found a Tai Chi instructor and I've made arrangements for weekly lessons. I decided to go with Yang style. I always thought I'd really want Chen style, which the instructor also teaches but both were quite hypnotizing and I started thinking that a style with emphasis on consistently slow and even movements may suit me better than alternating soft and hard movements. I may still try out Chen style, I think it would be valuable to learn about the oldest style which still retains more of the martial aspect of Tai Chi. The instructor was very nice, very direct, and very patient. He had short white hair, but a very youthful face. He even gave me a ride home and I enjoyed the cherry blossoms on the west bank of the river.

I also made a new friend. I haven't known him long, but it's a friendship I find myself valuing more and more for so many reasons. For one, I sense that he initially asked to exchange WeChat information to see if there was any romantic potential. We struggled to communicate through WeChat messages as I realized that I prefer written words so that I don't mishear anything, but he couldn't read Mandarin and was limited to leaving me voice messages. I went back to the grilled lamb cart downtown where he works and worried a little about whether I invited some pushy new creep into my life or if I'd get some thing about cold women like times when I've tried to express my disinterest in a romantic relationship. He asked me directly if I wanted a boyfriend. Not being able to explain that I'm not against it but it's not my top priority, or that it's easier for me to be friends and build trust over time, or list off any of the disgusting experiences I've had while traveling alone, I just said "I understand the question, but I don't know how to say it..." He gave a small nod and didn't push. It made me so happy when I realized I wasn't going to have anything on my hands like the man in Switzerland who told me how much he missed his good Japanese girlfriend and put his hand on my leg when I just wanted my train home. Or the man who asked if "horse penis" was a turn on the first time I went to Scotland. No demands, no anger, no shaming. I felt myself opening a little more and asked where he was from. "Hotan" he answered. I asked about his ethnicity, not wanting to make assumptions and he carefully said "Uyghur". As I spoke I realized that despite the large difference in circumstances between an American in Zhuzhou teaching spoken English and a man from Hotan selling lamb kawwap in Zhuzhou, what I did share with him was a language in which neither of us were native speakers. He knew 3 things in English and I knew pretty much nothing about the Uyghur language, but I knew what it was like to be far away from home and being proficient enough in another language to get by. He asked me if America was beautiful and  if Zhuzhou was beautiful. It seemed that even if I wasn't sure about anything romantically, we both wanted to know enough about each other to not break ties. I kind of liked that since we were both limited to simple Chinese, we were forced to speak directly and be as clear as possible. I decided to try reaching out a little more and taught myself to say "hello" in Uyghur (yaxshimusiz) the next time I saw him. 

The rest more or less comes down to E.M. Forster's  words to "only connect". The next time I greeted P. (his pseudonym from here on out), I did so with "yaxhimusiz" and got a small smile and an invitation to sit on a plastic red stool behind the grill in return. Every now and then he turned and we'd stare for a bit, the questions forming in my head must have been taking shape in his judging from the way his head moved. I confused the customers who tried to give me their money for nan and lamb and I confused some of the othersame behind the grill. P. had to tell one of his friends that I couldn't understand a word of what he was saying. When he got a break from the rush, we established each others names and ages. He looked startled when he found out I'm 4 years older than him and I'm not sure if that's what made him ask if we could be friends. We spoke about each others languages, taught a few simple words to each other, asked about each others homes, and frequently just sat and stared at each other trying to figure out if there was a way to form the questions floating between us. We established that we both knew the word piao liang, and our conversation sounded quite cheery as we talked about beautiful things. Hotan was beautiful. Zhuzhou  was beautiful. America was beautiful. The weather was beautiful. I also found we both liked music, but we both had to concede "wo  ting  bu  dong" (roughly "listening not understanding"). Perhaps it was due to the language barrier, but I really enjoyed how honest and direct P. seemed. It really did seem that we were just two people who didn't know much about each others worlds and were  trying to figure each other out.  When I left, he asked when if I'd be back again tomorrow.

I've found myself opening up a little more each time. Despite my concerns about looking like a ticket to America and some of my past experiences being alone in another country, he's never laid a finger on me or done anything inappropriate. I've also wondered to what extent my physical appearance has played a part in all this. I didn't get the usual run of questions about being American while looking Asian, but P. doesn't  resemble what most people think of when you talk about Chinese people. I haven't mentioned I'm mostly of Han descent and I've never been asked. But this whole experience has made me happy. I've learned some complicated lessons while in China, and to bear this in mind while also becoming friends with someone else who is away from home and trying to get around on a limited vocabulary just makes it all seems so special.

"Only connect!"

To think you can make a friendship from a handful of words in a language native to neither of you. I don't know where I will be this time next year, but this is a lesson and a relationship I want to keep close to myself and remember what simple things are still possible in a complicated world.