From Ping Xiang with love

(Ping Xiang in the corner of Jiangxi province)
(My student and her lovely parents at their restaurant).
(They made some good food in their kitchen).
(The cave we trekked through).
(Some little kiddos at an English school).
(We reached the bottom of the mountain on a motorcycle).
(The amazing countryside).


Oh, where to begin? I survived and thrived the past few days in Ping Xiang, although I'm a bit sleep deprived and overstimulated. Caution: read this blog/novel at your own risk. It's long!

Day 1:
My student "W" and I left Nanchang on the fast train, which is only a few months old. Getting on the new train was just like getting on an old train--there was the usual crush of people surging to get through the gates, while soldiers and police were trying to keep order. But the train was quite swanky. It looks like a bullet and was the nicest train or moving vehicle I've ever been in. Since the tickets were 90 kuai ($12), only the middle or upper class could afford it. So we rode at 200 km/hour in the lap of luxury (we were even served "Tibetan spring water") for a mere 2 hours, to reach the far corner of Jiangxi province.

W and I just looked at the vast countryside and mountains outside the window for the entire time. Everything was so green and beautiful. People were stooped over in the rice paddies with water sloshing around their ankles. Some men guided their water buffalo through the fields, tilling the soil. These scene was repeated outside our window the entire trip. Occasionally the farmers would peer up from their work to gaze at this shiny, new train. They probably imagined a different world--one that was out of their reach. I looked at the pampered little Chinese children inside the train and then at the barefoot, dirty children outside in the rice paddies. How can some parts of China be so modern, and others still so ancient and poor?

We arrived in Ping Xiang, a sizeable city surrounded only by countryside. W's very enthusiastic 21 year-old cousin, "Kathy," greeted us outside the train gate, just busting with excitement. Kathy was a very special person, who was kind and spoke some English, but a bit spoiled, immature, flaky, and showy with her money (like always wearing faux fur collars). Next to Kathy stood her 30 year-old fiancee, who is decidely middle class. He has a very good job, and shuttled us around in his nice, new Buick for most of the weekend. To have a car is something amazing in China, but to have a Buick with tinted windows means you've made it in the world.

We were immediately driven to W's parents' restaurant in the middle of the pretty city. A small crowd of about 15 or 20 people was standing in front of the restaurant for this occasion--to welcome the foreigner. We were whisked into a room in the restaurant, where I was surrounded by many uncles, cousins, parents, brothers, aunts, etc. They all were so excited and just smiled and smiled and smiled. We were served many courses of special meats, a big fish with its head, eel or snake or something, and plenty of vegetables. It was a very grand party, and they made sure to stuff me. I felt very welcomed.

At about 8 p.m. Kathy and her fiancee drove us to the big revolutionary square to see the sights. I think every city in Jiangxi has a huge square dedicated to the revolution. We then commenced to play bumper cars, and even danced. There were hundreds of couples dancing national dances in the square for exercise. After that we had to go shopping until 11 p.m. Kathy looked at every possible shiny, sparkly item in the world, and bought plenty. I certainly wasn't as eager about shopping, and I think she was disappointed. All foreigners like shopping, right? And later, Kathy's friend told me how surprised she was that I didn't talk about myself all the time. All foreigners like talking about themselves, right?

Anyway, then they drove us to Kathy's parents' (W's aunt and uncle's) apartment, where we stayed. It was large and new for China, and decorated in plenty of frills and sparkly things. There was a squatty potty AND a Western toilet in the one bathroom. There was also a Buddha statue in the living room, which the aunt offered food sacrifices (packaged Chinese food) and incense to every day.

Day 2:
After breakfast we drove in the Buick to the countryside and mountains. We passed plenty of rice paddies and water buffalo. We also passed plenty of people trudging alongside the road balancing heavy loads on the end of pole across their shoulders, and some amazingly old-looking people trudging uphill with just a walking stick and patched clothes and a pack on their backs. Who knew where they were going, or how long until they reached their destination. Maybe they had been trying to reach their destination their whole lives.

We arrived at a cave where people say a dragon died a long time ago. So for the next 3 hours and 5,000 meters we trekked up through this cave, but didn't spot a dragon. Most of the cave was very narrow and maybe only 5 feet in height. I spent most of the time bent in half. There were a lot of colorful lights every once and a while, but then I think they ran out of lights. So it got steadily darker and more intense, with bats flying around and water dripping on us.

I don't exactly enjoy caves or small spaces for extended periods of time, but somehow I didn't go insane. I just thought to Him in my head pretty constantly and tried to encourage my cave-hiking buddies. Once and a while we would come upon other people trudging through the cave also. A suprising number of them were little old men who were smoking whole packs of cigarettes.

Toward the end of the cave there was an open space with a gigantic Buddha statue. Incense was burning, and some people were paying their respects in this eerily dark place. Even a little boy was bowing and I felt very sad at that moment. I wondered if anyone had told them the Good News, or if they would ever get to hear it. The motionless, idle stone statue didn't have anything to offer.

We finally reached the end of the cave, which came out at the top of a mountain. Somehow we had to get back down the mountain. After walking around plenty of rice paddies and cows, some men on motorcycles said they could take us down the mountain for 10 kuai. So we all smashed on the motorcycles and I sat behind a driver and my student.

Our driver commenced to speed down the incredibly windy, narrow mountain road at a million kilometers per hour. He zig-zagged around other motorcycles, people hiking, and even farm animals. Who needs helmets or slow driving speeds? I thought I'd fly off the back and plunge into the valley at every bump and turn and abrupt stop. It was one of the few times I thought for sure I'd die, but I didn't. Even though it was terrifying, it was also one of the most exciting moments--feeling like you might die, but knowing you'll have a great story if you survive.

Not much else happened the rest of the day, but W and I went back to her family's restaurant for dinner. She and I sat at a huge 1o person table by ourselves, and her parents brought us 7 or 8 dishes of amazing food, which we could barely make a dent in.

Day 3:
On Saturday, W and I walked to a neighborhood where her cousin Kathy owns her own English school. Don't ask me how or why this 21 year-old with and lower English than my students and not much common sense is able to have her own little English school. So for about 6 hours I got to "talk" to the 80 students at the school.

Most of the students were 7-12 years old. Many of them screamed when they saw me. Others clutched their hearts and gasped. Plenty more hid under their desks. I felt like a really big monster. But after awhile they warmed up to me, and I asked them questions and helped them play games. I felt also felt like Santa Claus, because Kathy wanted every kid to have his/her own picture with me. I was wondering in my head if I could get paid for this.

Later W and I finally got to visit her home. It is an old 3- story building near the outskirts of town. Her grandfather, who had fought in the "war to protect North Korea from the Americans," had built the house many years ago. Her grandmother and some other random elderly people live in two big rooms on the first floor. Her grandma was probably about 4'8" and had been a teacher. She was so kind and had insisted that other old people without families stay with them. So I also saw some old people in ancient beds. They didn't look very alive.

We looked at the rest of the house, which workers were fixing up. It was more like a concrete building than a home, but W is very fond of the place. We also peered into one room which wasn't being repaired. It smelled of incense, and had several shrines of Buddha in it. There were also black-and-white photos of deceased relatives, and a very old bust of Chairman Mao. W told me this was her grandma's "room" to talk to Buddha. I didn't say anything, but inside I felt very heavy with the thought that her grandma was talking hours a day to something or someone who didn't exist and could never have any answers.

As we were going back down the narrow steps, W's father in Chinese asked W what I believed in. She said very matter-of-factly that I believed in [the Son]. Speaking of beliefs, W and I had the opportunity to talk about some life issues on several occasions. Her family is definetely Buddhist, but we got to share with each other about what we believe and why. W is a very independent and rather difficult person to love, but I feel that this adventure helped her open up more, and we got to know each other a lot better.

Day 4:
It was with a really heavy heart that we left Ping Xiang early this morning. I had to say goodbye to her huge, dear family over a steaming bowl of pork noodles at 6 a.m. They overwhelmed me with their hospitality, kindness, and generousity. They fed me so many meals, never let me pay for anything, put their lives on hold for several days, and even gave me presents.

I gave them some little gifts from Kansas and tried out my paltry Chinese communication skills, but it paled in comparison to all the meals, tour guiding, 2 hand-knit sweaters, fancy thermos, and memories they gave me. They pulled out all the stops, and I was really honored. I could never repay them, but they don't want me to. They just loved me, I loved them, and I got to practice my patience and speaking Chinese more than I ever have this whole time I've been in China.

So W and I waved goodbye as we left Ping Xiang on the oldest train in China, probably. We rode hard seat for 5 hours back to Nanchang. The train was incredibly dingy and uncomfortable, but I felt more at ease traveling this way like the majority of Chinese than on the fancy fast train. At one stop, dozens of other people got onto our car. They only had standing tickets, because they either couldn't afford the seats (22 kuai/3 dollars) or all the seats were sold out because of the holiday.

We trudged and chugged all the way back to Nanchang on our nicely out-dated, authentically communist train. We passed all the same fields and mountains we had seen just a few days before from a different vantage point and maybe from a different perspective. Is that cheesy? Maybe. But I do feel like I had grown and changed in the past few days. I think He gave me patience and grace to love and be loved by these people in a way I didn't think was possible.

The End.

(Here's a video of the train ride today and before the train got crowded).

Leaving on a jet train...

Hi, my faithful readers!

Somehow the end of April has arrived. That means the very, very short "May holiday" is just around the corner. It is the Chinese version of Labor Day, meaning a good chunk of the country's people, or 1/5th of the world's population, will be traveling. It should be fun and chaotic! :) I think I would be a little disappointed if it weren't fun and chaotic.

I only have class Thursday morning, and we don't have classes this Friday, May 1st. So my student and I will be leaving for her hometown, Ping Xiang, which is in western Jiangxi province.

This is the information I've accumulated from the Internet about this destination:

-"Coal center of southern China."
-"Industrial center of Jiangxi province."
-nestled in a "remote, mountainous region on the border with Jiangxi and Hunan provinces."

I'm getting really excited, but I'm a little apprehensive, too. The student I'm going with is sometimes what we refer to as "EGR", or an "extra grace required" person. I enjoy being with her a lot, but I think she can be insecure and driven by perfection... Wait, that sounds like me! :)

It seems that we know each other really well by now, but it is still super challenging to have meaningful conversations. She is a pretty smart girl, so she thinks about everything so practically and logically and scientifically that it is hard to discuss any "deeper" issues.

Anyway, I feel that she tries very hard to be perfect at everything--class, friendships, and even in hosting the foreign teacher in her little remote, mountainous hometown. Please, please, please, think of us! Any kind of thoughts about anything you can think of would be appreciated!

Well, there's not much else to report about right now. Today we were discussing the Korean War for a minute in class. My students referred to it as the "war against the Americans." I guess it is called that because China was helping out on the side of North Korea. But I still thought, "Hmmm...that's peculiar." Anyway, we are all staying fairly healthy and happy. Studies are going well... and we have just 2 more months until we return to AMERICA!!

I probably won't post anything else on this blog until I return to Nanchang on Sunday. Hopefully I'll have plenty of stories about good conversations, dinners with the village chief, etc. ;)

Look for the good

(My favorite cafeteria in China at its least busy time. This picture is from last week, but I ate there again today).


Happy end-of-April greetings!

Your Monday is probably just beginning, but my Monday is nearing its close. It was a rather uneventful day, but still blessed in little ways.

My first class this morning had a paltry 18 students--from a peak of 45 students. They have all left for recruiting. The class went well, though, because it was more laid-back and they had more opportunities to speak. I also let them sit down when they talk (usually students here stand up whenever they answer a question or speak).

Then at lunch I went with two students to the student cafeteria--one of my favorite haunts on campus. The food isn't really that good, but for some reason I get a lot of energy when I walk into the very crowded and chaotic place. And we don't have to spend 30 minutes trying to decide what to order.

I ate with Karen and Sarah. Karen is Wendy's roommate. Wendy is the girl whose hometown I'm visiting for the short May holiday. Karen told me how excited Wendy is to have me come. Apparently when I told Wendy I could visit with her for four days, Wendy spent the entire day talking about it with her friends. She also called her parents... and her grandparents, brother, aunts, uncles, cousins, and close friends. She told them about my visit, and that they should "prepare."

Oh, my goodness. I don't know what that means. Later my team and I were laughing that the whole town will probably turn out for the occasion. We envisioned a parade, people dancing, and banners declaring, "We warmly welcome you, white tofu-skinned woman!" It will be an adventure, I'm pretty sure.

Then my two sweet, well-meaning students once again declared how they are concerned about my marriage. People, why must we discuss this every day? I'm not exactly dead and buried yet. They insist I must find a nice Chinese man to marry. Today they suggested that I marry a "professor." I think most of my 190 students are much more concerned about my lack of a boyfriend than I am. Actually, I'm not concerned at all.

In other news, there were a mere 14 students in my second class this afternoon. These seem to be the ones who have held out against the head teacher, and somehow haven't left for recruiting. So I tried to make the class as meaningful as possible for them.

We talked about advertising, and they did mini-commercials for different products. My favorite was probably for toothpaste. Apparently there is a famous toothpaste in China, "Hei Ren," which translates into "Black man" toothpaste, that the students included in their commercials. I've seen rows of toothpaste boxes in the supermarket with a picture of a really crazy picture of a very dark black man with a top hat and gleaming white teeth, smiling cheesily. But I had no idea that the toothpaste was actually called "Black man." Wow, you learn something new every day here.

Then after classes today Shannon and I wanted to take a bread van back to old campus instead of cramming onto the city bus. We sat in the bread van waiting for the driver to find more passengers. We sat there and had to listen to his chit-chat, which were are getting to understand more. He went on a long description of how our noses are such much different and bigger than Chinese people. He pointed to his nose, our nose, his nose, our nose, and so on and so forth. We were like, "okay, dude, we get it." Actually one of the sort of outdated phrases for foreigners in China is "da bizi," which is "big nose." Then my roommate went to get a hair wash at the hair salon we sometimes go to. One of the guys there inquired about my whereabouts to her. He asked, "Where is the tall girl with the tall nose?"

Anyway, I think I've exhausted most of the stories from today. Enjoy your day! I leave you with a sentence from a book I'm reading. It helps me in adapting to this culture, which can still be very strange and different: "Look for the good and the beautiful, and when you see it you will see [His] grace." Words to live by in China...

Empty classrooms

(Eating dinner at our favorite restaurant with one of Jonathan's students and two of mine, who are on the right).


Weep, weep, weep. Today I walked into one of my classes, and there were only 20 students, down from a class size of 45! The rest have gone recruiting.

And now I also found out that my favorite, special student/best friend has been pressured so much to recruit that she will most likely leave very soon for the remainder of the term.

It just makes my blood boil in frustration and helplessness. I felt a lot of despair today. I was disappointed that more than half of my students are leaving, but this news was much more serious for me. She and I hang out several days a week, we study the book together, we study Chinese and English together, and we talk about life. And we can laugh about anything and everything. I don't know if I can handle it. She's one of my best friends I've ever had.

I can't and shouldn't say much about how these students are pressured to leave. But I will say that they must not lose face. In addition, if they don't leave to recruit, they will not be eligible for future scholarships. Can you spell "b-l-a-c-k-m-a-i-l?" It doesn't make any sense! They are here to learn.

Anyway, things are different here, and there's not much I can do about it. My classes may dwindle to 10 people by next week, and it's hard to be motivated to teach or write lessons if nobody will be there.

Okay, I'm finished venting...

Tonight one of my boy students will be studying the word with Jonathan. My special student also came to help out, because she is classmates with them. We ate dinner together, and my heart was so content, I thought it would bust. I love these students so much--I never thought I would feel this way. The rest of the problems and issues and strivings on earth really pale in comparison to loving these precious people, and helping point them to truth. Please continue to lift them up!

And one more thought... Last night our team was studying Stephen in the word, who died for him. It got me thinking about what it means to sacrifice everything for him, and then I thought it might be more challenging to live every day dedicated to him, than to die.

Anyway, now I leave you with some unique, random videos.

(This is for you, Andrea--here's some dancing at dinner. This is Rachael's birthday dinner on Monday, after we got back from Wuhu and hadn't slept in 2 days)

(Craving some cabbage and pig bladder? Help yourself in the teacher's cafeteria)

Nice to meet you, too, Wuhu!

(With a cute, sweaty baby who was our neighbor on the train).
(International relations at its finest. A baby from our organization greeting a Chinese baby in Wuhu).
(Woo-hoo for Wuhu on the choo-choo train).
(Making my students write on the board during class today).
(The infamous lake on campus has had most of its water drained)


First things first. We've arrived safely back in Nanchang after a great few days in Wuhu! Woo-hoo! Our train pulled into the Nanchang station at 5:30 a.m. on Monday. Although we hadn't slept on the train really, we were off and running for the rest of the day--teaching, etc.

Wuhu is a provincial city, like Nanchang, but slightly less chaotic and gritty. For some reason, I really enjoyed the city and university where we stayed. About 30 people from our organization met up to celebrate a belated Easter and hang out together. It was fun fellowshipping (is that a word?) with a wide variety of believers teaching in various cities in this region.

Saturday was the only good weather day. We walked the tree-lined city, which is all hilly and quaint. We also hung out with the other teams and ate good food. Somehow I also ended up at a frilly place with some other girls for an hour-and-a-half facial for 50 kuai ($7).

It was pure luxury. I've never had a facial before in my life, so I don't know if it's similar in America, but it was quite enjoyable. Perfect, porcelain-looking women poured us tea. Then they put us in an all pink room where they massaged our heads and arms and wiped gallon after gallon of face-stuff on us. I have no clue what they put on our faces, but it was still so relaxing and quiet!

I don't really remember what else we did. I mainly just remember the overnight train trips, which are always memorable. You're almost guaranteed that you won't sleep with the constant jerking of the train, the chatter, the smoke, the squatty potty smell, the people snoring all around you, people getting off and on the train at all hours of the night...

But it's rather humorous being on the overnight trains here. This is a snapshot of a night on a Chinese train (about my 10th time): First, you herd from the crowded waiting room of crumpled fellow travelers. Hundreds of people, including all the people precariously balancing gigantic bags on their shoulders with poles, are corraled through to the platform. The platform is filled with old-fashioned trains, with smoke and/or steam filling the usually very dimly lit area. We joke that it is the "troops coming home, World War I edition."

The uniformed attendants examine your ticket while everyone surges onto the train cars. Then you walk through the very narrow, stuffy, smoky cars to find your hard sleeper bunk in a car full of bunks, stacked 3 beds high. Your fellow passengers usually look curiously at the foreigners. They smoke, talk about these strange white people (talk which I can understand more each time), and smoke some more.

This time there was a woman across from me. She looked so weathered by life, but she had a precious 4 month old baby, who sat rather lethargically with sweaty hair. We got to hold the tiny baby, who had five layers of clothes on (see the pictures). Then the woman sang the little baby to sleep in her arms and sheltered her the rest of the night. They got off the train at about 3 a.m.

Periodically a woman would come with a broom made of twigs to sweep around the dirt on the floor. She also rearranged our shoes to tidy things up.

There was also a man near me who liked to take smoking breaks at 2 a.m. I woke up from a restless sleep to find this man sticking his head out of the train window, politely trying to keep the smoke from the car. It didn't help, though. The smoke just billowed back into the car...

Anyway, back to the news here. Some of my students have started to leave for recruiting. Recruiting is causing a lot of anxiety among most of my students. They are pressured so much to leave to recruit other schools, and most of them don't want to go. Thus, the students either give in and go, abandoning their studies for the rest of the school year, or they stay and feel quilty, spending many sleepless nights worrying about what their angry head teachers might do.

So depsite the beautiful weather, its sometimes easy to feel despair. For example, every day I look out the classroom window and have a great view of the small, pretty lake in the middle of campus. There is a pagoda, which is supposed to inspire the students every day to live wonderful lives dedicated to knowledge and their country. But it isn't inspiring or pretty to me anymore. I really can't look at it at all, without feeling sadness.

I just learned that this is apparently the place of choice for suicides on campus. During tomb-sweeping holiday alone, two students tried to drown themselves. One did drown, and the other was saved by somebody. I just think about how they most likely didn't know Him; how they have never been able to experience true life.

There have been several other drownings there this semester, but no one really talks about it or addresses it. Some people actually laugh about it, albeit in a nervous, uncomfortable way.

At the end of one of my classes yesterday, I was motivated (perhaps by Him) to momentarily address the issue, since nobody will really talk about it. I sincerely said that they don't have to be hopeless, and if they ever need to talk or need someone to listen, to please, please come talk with me. The students so often feel overwhelmed and empty. There is so much pressure on them from all angles of society that they don't think they can continue. And, ultimately, the answer to their purpose in life can't be answered by any boyfriend, girlfriend, studies, college degree, or country.

I didn't think anything more of it. Then after class, I was leaving the classroom. One girl who hardly ever talks, and seems withdrawn this semester, rushed up to me. She said, "Miss Laura! Please, what is your phone number? I might want to come talk to you." Hopefully she will.

Is that a heavy way to end this extremely long blog entry? Perhaps. Especially because my heart feels totally broken for these dear students. But... it's not going to be the end of the story. He redeems and restores. Please continue to think of these students--that they can come to know Him in the midst of their struggles.

But I'll leave you on a happy note. One of my students wrote me a note saying good-bye (I technically can't tell my students yet that I'm returning next year). Here's what he wrote:

"Four days later I will go home for a long long holiday, because our school is very specical in our country that you know... It difficult but I will try. I hear you will go back to America and never teach me, what a pity! I will miss our happy life during this years. I also rember the first lesson I take brave to take photo with you. I will miss you, a special one in my life. Best wishes for you!"

Tofu skin

(These are my rambunctious Business English kiddos--all 50 of them!)


Happy Thursday, faithful blog readers!

There hasn't been too much happening lately. We are just teaching, loving, eating, and sometimes sleeping. The weather has been pretty warm--about 80 or 85--but I'm not complaining, because at least my toes and hands aren't frozen anymore.

My students have been presenting about Chinese culture this whole week. It's been a good project for them, I think. They get to work with a partner and practice speaking English in front of the class, while trying to be creative. All of these aspects are challenging for them.

There have been some great topics--the Great Wall, Beijing Olympics, ancient writing, traditional paper-cutting, etc. Several of my students also sang songs. Even a really painfully shy boy in one of my classes sang a high-pitched rendition of "One night in Beijing." It seems like that is a mandatory song for every Chinese person to know. Toward the end of his singing, the whole class joined in.

My favorite presentation was probably about tofu, though. This group brought several soggy samples of tofu that were dripping all over my papers on the podium. They also brought "stinky tofu," which indeed smells awful, and all the students wanted to eat it.

However, the crowning moment came at the end of their presentation. They posed a peculiar question to the class: "Can you guess who has skin like tofu, tender and white? Miss Laura, of course."

Wow, I didn't see that coming--just like most things in China. Tender tofu skin? Words can't even explain... :)

In other news, yesterday Jonathan and I went to the new campus back gate to eat lunch with my student, John. He is fascinated with the Son and wants to read the word. So he will be studying the word with Jonathan! Please keep that in your thoughts!

Well, this is my last blog for a few days probably. My team and I are taking the slow train north to a city in Anhui Province, Wuhu. (Pronounced "Woo-hoo"). We will be there from Friday to Monday.

Thanks as always for your thoughts and love and encouragement. Have a great weekend!

Live from Blue Sky

Today was another beautiful day. It actually didn't rain, and the humidity was quite bearable. I taught a couple classes, and then came home at lunch-time, like every Tuesday.

I decided to take bus 231 and ride to Wal-mart, which is always a mini-adventure. When I got off the bus, there was a China Post, which is my bank here. It's actually difficult to find a China Post that will give you your money from your account, but this one did, so I took the chance.

It wasn't crowded at all. The lady withdrew money from my account and held onto it while I signed the receipt. I always just sign my English name, but this woman wasn't satisfied. In Chinese, she insisted that I sign my Chinese name in Chinese. I told her I didn't have a Chinese name. She insisted I did, and pointed to two characters on the printed receipt, which roughly sounds like, "Lao La."

The woman was slightly exasperated and wasn't going to give me my money. She called the bank guard over, who explained the same thing to me in Chinese. So, squinting at the incredibly tiny and smudged print, I tried my best to imitate the characters of my newly discovered Chinese name. I also tried my best to write the character strokes in the proper order. If they wanted me to write in Chinese, I wanted it to be quality. The guard was satisfied and assured me, "good, good." I, Lao La, was finally permitted to carry my kuai out of China Post. I had passed the test.

Then at Wal-mart I stopped to examine the unique specials on display. My favorite was a special on mosquito netting for your bed. It's that time of year again, folks! Are you tired of your old mosquito netting? Now for a limited time only, you can buy a beautiful set designed to look like hand-made lace! And it comes in a variety of colors--bright yellow, purple, and red, of course, to match any decor!

After examining the high-quality mosquito netting, I found a little piece of frozen chicken. I put it in a bag, and took it to the three ladies manning the scale. (Every job has about three people). I glanced at the scale to see how much it cost, and was slightly surprised because it was more expensive than usual. Another lady said to the other lady, "Oh, the foreigner doesn't understand." Then she looked at me and said, "Do you understand what we're saying?" I don't think she expected an answer. But I replied in my best Chinese, "Yes, I understand what you're saying." They all looked surprised, but I didn't wait around for them to ask me any other questions. I wanted to leave them under the illusion that I had amazing Chinese and was entirely fluent. :)

Anyway, I am indeed understanding more Chinese these days, and can communicate slightly better. I've been studying and practicing a lot more, which helps, of course!

In other news, a girl at the Blue Sky radio station has been asking my teammates and me to be on the Blue Sky radio station, which is blasted across the campus on loudspeakers to the 40,000 students. Jonathan took one for the team, and agreed to be on the station. Unfortunately I wasn't there to hear it, but I heard it was amazing and watched a video Jodi filmed. We listened to the part where students can call in and ask him questions. Only one student called, and it was one of his students "Jessica." Here is the conversation broadcast over the campus:

"Hello, Mr. Jonathan! This is your student, Jessica. Do you remember me?"

"Yes, Jessica. Hello."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Jonathan, but I did not go to your class today. I'm very sorry."

"That's okay, Jessica, no big deal."

"I wish you happy everyday!"

"Thank you."

"I'll miss you!"

"I'll miss you, too."

The End.

And now I leave you with a little video Jodi took on the city bus. These are the roads at their emptiest and calmest. Enjoy the ride and the sights.