Preparing to go on approximately two months of travel around South Asia with nothing but a borrowed backpack full of semi-dirty clothes leaves me with only one sentiment:
here we go again.
8 cities, 3 countries, 2 months... insane.
Honestly, despite the fact that I know it will be fun and I know it will be a chance of a lifetime to visit so many interesting places with friends, I'm dreading it. Can I please be settled for longer than three months? Can I please be settled at all? How much more culture shock can my body handle? Is it really wise to go from unfamiliar to extremely unfamiliar?
Tomorrow morning at 11am when the first train of many pulls away from the platform I guess I'll find out... sigh. Learning to trust is so difficult.
**************************************************
On another note: here are some great quotes from the past few days, I can't resist putting them up...
"We give you Tibetan name 'Dan Zeng Sang Mo" meaning girl with a good heart."
-Students from class 4
"I know nothing about cow gestation."
-Christiane
"If it is my birthday will you say 'Merry Soba-mas'?"
-Soba
The harvest is here...
The kingdom is near...
Friday, December 26, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
How many monks does it take to put up a shelf and other questions...
How many monks does it take to put up a shelf?
Well, considering that wall shelves are almost unheard of (due to the fact that all the walls here are concrete) and considering the fact that your average Tibetan does not have enough stuff to need additional shelves anyway... it takes two monks, one meteorologist, and about half a dozen day laborers... and one white girl with an odd request.
How many butter lamps does it take to honor the death of the founder of the Yellow Sect of Buddhism?
More than I could count, not that I had a chance to count last night in the midst of great crowds of all manner of humanity shuffling around the Jokhang Temple to the low, haunting blasts of Buddhist temple horns and through clouds of incense smoke thick enough to block out the sky and choke the careless breather.
How many times must we come face to face with the movement of Him who is invisible before we stop being amazed?
???
Well, considering that wall shelves are almost unheard of (due to the fact that all the walls here are concrete) and considering the fact that your average Tibetan does not have enough stuff to need additional shelves anyway... it takes two monks, one meteorologist, and about half a dozen day laborers... and one white girl with an odd request.
How many butter lamps does it take to honor the death of the founder of the Yellow Sect of Buddhism?
More than I could count, not that I had a chance to count last night in the midst of great crowds of all manner of humanity shuffling around the Jokhang Temple to the low, haunting blasts of Buddhist temple horns and through clouds of incense smoke thick enough to block out the sky and choke the careless breather.
How many times must we come face to face with the movement of Him who is invisible before we stop being amazed?
???
Friday, December 19, 2008
"How to cause a scene" A play of yesterdays's adventures in two acts....
Act One: "How to cause a scene" in a tea house.
Set: Enter a somewhat dingy, smoky tea house. In a corner next to some yak hair curtains sit some uncomfortable wooden benches covered in only slightly more comfortable fabric and animal fur. Surrounded by the benches is a square table painted every color of the rainbow except orange.
Scene 1:
Me: sip some warm sweet milk tea from an orange cup that has just been poured from an orange thermos. "How do you say 'orange' in Tibetan?"
Drolker: "orange color?" exchange some unintelligible conversation with Wangmo. "We need look in dictionary."
Scene 2:
Wangmo: removes from bag an impossibly large and tattered dictionary, searches through entries. "Orange color is not here, only orange food."
Drolker: "I ask this nun." points at a lady not too far away.
Scene 3:
Drolker: Walks over to nun. Some heated discussion, shaking of head, and finger pointing. Waitresses, and various bystanders join in... more shaking of heads, more finger pointing, the whole crowd turns to stare at the foreigner who asked the question... Drolker walks back to table, whole tea house involved now... "They don't know."
Me: stunned silence
Act 2: "How to cause a scene" in your apartment building
Set: Enter the front of an old concrete apartment building on the edge of campus. Crumbly stairs, dirty smell wafting in from the bathroom building nearby, bike rattling crazily over the tore up pavement. Home.
Scene 1:
Me: breathing heavily from the long bike ride back up the hill...
A dozen or more of my students: appear out of nowhere "Ms Kelly, we have waiting for you a long time!"
Me: Why?
A dozen or more of my students: "To celebrate with you Christmas!"
Me: mildly confused
ADOMOMS: "We have gift for you! We come to your home!"
Scene 2:
Set: Inside my tiny apartment littered with tests to grade, half finished projects, cups etc. And now a dozen or more of my students crammed onto the sparse furniture.
ADOMOMS: Get up one at a time to wrap my neck with the traditional honorary Tibetan white scarves called Kadas... each one saying as they do it "Mary Kisstmas"
Me: sweating under a pile of scarves, inwardly stunned and outwardly breathless "Thank you! thank you!"
ADOMOMS: "And Ms. Kelly, we have this gift..." open large bag that mysteriously appeared out of nowhere, place in my lap and on table two faux yaks. "This one boy yak, this one girl yak."
Me: totally confused but ecstatic "I LOVE THEM!"
Set: Enter a somewhat dingy, smoky tea house. In a corner next to some yak hair curtains sit some uncomfortable wooden benches covered in only slightly more comfortable fabric and animal fur. Surrounded by the benches is a square table painted every color of the rainbow except orange.
Scene 1:
Me: sip some warm sweet milk tea from an orange cup that has just been poured from an orange thermos. "How do you say 'orange' in Tibetan?"
Drolker: "orange color?" exchange some unintelligible conversation with Wangmo. "We need look in dictionary."
Scene 2:
Wangmo: removes from bag an impossibly large and tattered dictionary, searches through entries. "Orange color is not here, only orange food."
Drolker: "I ask this nun." points at a lady not too far away.
Scene 3:
Drolker: Walks over to nun. Some heated discussion, shaking of head, and finger pointing. Waitresses, and various bystanders join in... more shaking of heads, more finger pointing, the whole crowd turns to stare at the foreigner who asked the question... Drolker walks back to table, whole tea house involved now... "They don't know."
Me: stunned silence
Act 2: "How to cause a scene" in your apartment building
Set: Enter the front of an old concrete apartment building on the edge of campus. Crumbly stairs, dirty smell wafting in from the bathroom building nearby, bike rattling crazily over the tore up pavement. Home.
Scene 1:
Me: breathing heavily from the long bike ride back up the hill...
A dozen or more of my students: appear out of nowhere "Ms Kelly, we have waiting for you a long time!"
Me: Why?
A dozen or more of my students: "To celebrate with you Christmas!"
Me: mildly confused
ADOMOMS: "We have gift for you! We come to your home!"
Scene 2:
Set: Inside my tiny apartment littered with tests to grade, half finished projects, cups etc. And now a dozen or more of my students crammed onto the sparse furniture.
ADOMOMS: Get up one at a time to wrap my neck with the traditional honorary Tibetan white scarves called Kadas... each one saying as they do it "Mary Kisstmas"
Me: sweating under a pile of scarves, inwardly stunned and outwardly breathless "Thank you! thank you!"
ADOMOMS: "And Ms. Kelly, we have this gift..." open large bag that mysteriously appeared out of nowhere, place in my lap and on table two faux yaks. "This one boy yak, this one girl yak."
Me: totally confused but ecstatic "I LOVE THEM!"
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Things that just blow the mind...
No, friends it's not just the fact that today I walked by a man blow torching a dozen legs of some large beast as they rested in the muck and mire of the street. Remind me not to eat there.
And it's not just the phenomenon that I can look out my window at what appears to be a tropical paradise for the intensity of the sunlight, only to open my door to the blistering cold.
Or how about the way that an old women peeing on the corner of a busy intersection attracts zero attention but the white girl who almost trips over her cannot seem to get out of the spotlight.
And it's not even the incident after giving the final exam to some students in class two where myself and two boys (one of whom was the class monitor) were locked in the classroom on the second floor of a building which was basically deserted at that time in the evening and which the only window looked down a frightening two stories to remnants of some long forgotten construction project and shards of glass. Of course not a single one of the other thrity-eight students in the class would answer their phones and every single one of the teachers (aside from me of course) was in a very important meeting and would call me back later. A hair-raising 20 minutes later the benevolence of some stranger, who heard our shouts from the window, freed us to continue our lives. If I ever find out who locked us in...
Nor is it the reality that twists of fate prompt deeper relationships almost within a heartbeat. Today after the exam there was a meeting in the teacher's lounge, no rest for a foreign teacher there, so having nothing to do I headed towards my home past the football field where, low and behold, half of the students that I teach were resting. They, sheepishly, called me to come and sit with them, which I gladly did and had an extremely interesting conversation with about a dozen of my students who I have not had the opportunity to speak to much. Opportunities here seem to lie in wait around every corner, but don't blink or you'll miss them.
It's no single one of those things that blow my mind... it's the combination. And what a combination it is.
And it's not just the phenomenon that I can look out my window at what appears to be a tropical paradise for the intensity of the sunlight, only to open my door to the blistering cold.
Or how about the way that an old women peeing on the corner of a busy intersection attracts zero attention but the white girl who almost trips over her cannot seem to get out of the spotlight.
And it's not even the incident after giving the final exam to some students in class two where myself and two boys (one of whom was the class monitor) were locked in the classroom on the second floor of a building which was basically deserted at that time in the evening and which the only window looked down a frightening two stories to remnants of some long forgotten construction project and shards of glass. Of course not a single one of the other thrity-eight students in the class would answer their phones and every single one of the teachers (aside from me of course) was in a very important meeting and would call me back later. A hair-raising 20 minutes later the benevolence of some stranger, who heard our shouts from the window, freed us to continue our lives. If I ever find out who locked us in...
Nor is it the reality that twists of fate prompt deeper relationships almost within a heartbeat. Today after the exam there was a meeting in the teacher's lounge, no rest for a foreign teacher there, so having nothing to do I headed towards my home past the football field where, low and behold, half of the students that I teach were resting. They, sheepishly, called me to come and sit with them, which I gladly did and had an extremely interesting conversation with about a dozen of my students who I have not had the opportunity to speak to much. Opportunities here seem to lie in wait around every corner, but don't blink or you'll miss them.
It's no single one of those things that blow my mind... it's the combination. And what a combination it is.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Extreme Trial and Error...
It's high time I informed you of my Tibetan language skills. I have lived in Lhasa for only two and a half months; just long enough to clean the apartment, begin to buy vegetables with ease, learn to ride a bike, memorize 160 student names, and get a slight grasp of a few Tibetan phrases and words.
My friend, Drolker, works tirelessly with me to increase my ever short supply of correctly pronounced Tibetan phrases, despite the fact that I am a horrible, and easily distracted, student.
So when I speak of my Tibetan language skills, I should really speak of my lack there of.
But then I got on the bus this afternoon.
Little did I know it, but this bus ride would be language learning in the extreme.
The bus was empty when I got on, but after a few minutes every seat was taken. Indeed the fact that there were no seats left did not stop the bus driver for stopping for a group of pilgrims which consisted of one man and about a dozen women of varying ages on their way to Sera Monastery. Each of the women was wearing a bright scarf over her hair and the long traditional dress and multi-colored apron. They, with their coral and silver jingling over the swish of skirts, packed themselves into the narrow isle of the bus as the squeaky door slammed shut and it sputtered off to the next stop.
I was the most interesting thing they'd seen all day. I am sure of this because the woman who was squished next to me never took her eyes off me as she muttered to the other women and everyone else on the bus "chigye... chigye" (foreigner... foreigner). So with her eyes burning holes in my skin I decided to try out one phrase that I was fairly sure of and choking back my pride and wracking my brain for everything Drolker had ever said to me, I turned to her and slowly asked "keran debuimbeay?" (how are you?)
Well this produced ripples of reaction all over the bus long before I got an answer from the girl I had spoken to. The student sitting behind me suddenly leaned forward and the bus helper (the girl employed to take money and open the door) shouted over the crowd to the driver what I had just said, repeatedly... just to make sure that no one missed it, the chigye had said "how are you?"
If this pilgrim girl, not to mention the rest of the bus, had been interested in me before, now they were all spellbound. She replied "debuyi" (fine) and the conversation continued as follows:
Me: "ran mingla kade sigkeeu?" (what is your name)
Girl: "Lhamdra... ran mingla?" (Lhamdra... what about your name?)
Me: "Kelly"
Lhamdra: something I didn't understand but I thought it was: what do you do?
Me: "nga gela" (I am a teacher)
Lhamdra: "lhogba... ran lho catsire?" (age... how old are you?)
Me: "nga... nee... nee shoo sum" (I'm... two... twenty-three)
Lhamdra: something else I didn't understand but pointing to the boxes of candy in my lap that I had just bought for my students.
Me: "nga gela..." point to the candy, "jeenee... lobto" (I'm a teacher, sugar... student) hey it's the best I could do.
Lhamdra: something else I didn't understand but she was using her hands like she was praying... I was really confused.
Add to my confusion that this whole time the bus helper girl has been yelling out all of my responses with glee to anyone who was interested, and they were, and these pilgrim women had been exchanging comments among each other after my every broken attempt. Not to mention the fact that I thought the student sitting behind me would end up in my lap for how far he was leaning into the conversation.
Luckily my stop was coming right up... I tugged on the sleeve of the bus helper girl and in the best Chinese I could muster (which, if you can believe it, is even sketchier than my Tibetan) said "ting yi sha, shi xiao" (stop the bus at the teacher's college). Candy in hand I jumped off the bus and with a wave and a grin called out "caleshu!!!" (good-bye) and, with what could have been either amusement or relief, at least half the bus called out "pe-oh" (good-bye).
Nga puyi junkee yu (I am learning Tibetan)... and I have a long, long way to go...
My friend, Drolker, works tirelessly with me to increase my ever short supply of correctly pronounced Tibetan phrases, despite the fact that I am a horrible, and easily distracted, student.
So when I speak of my Tibetan language skills, I should really speak of my lack there of.
But then I got on the bus this afternoon.
Little did I know it, but this bus ride would be language learning in the extreme.
The bus was empty when I got on, but after a few minutes every seat was taken. Indeed the fact that there were no seats left did not stop the bus driver for stopping for a group of pilgrims which consisted of one man and about a dozen women of varying ages on their way to Sera Monastery. Each of the women was wearing a bright scarf over her hair and the long traditional dress and multi-colored apron. They, with their coral and silver jingling over the swish of skirts, packed themselves into the narrow isle of the bus as the squeaky door slammed shut and it sputtered off to the next stop.
I was the most interesting thing they'd seen all day. I am sure of this because the woman who was squished next to me never took her eyes off me as she muttered to the other women and everyone else on the bus "chigye... chigye" (foreigner... foreigner). So with her eyes burning holes in my skin I decided to try out one phrase that I was fairly sure of and choking back my pride and wracking my brain for everything Drolker had ever said to me, I turned to her and slowly asked "keran debuimbeay?" (how are you?)
Well this produced ripples of reaction all over the bus long before I got an answer from the girl I had spoken to. The student sitting behind me suddenly leaned forward and the bus helper (the girl employed to take money and open the door) shouted over the crowd to the driver what I had just said, repeatedly... just to make sure that no one missed it, the chigye had said "how are you?"
If this pilgrim girl, not to mention the rest of the bus, had been interested in me before, now they were all spellbound. She replied "debuyi" (fine) and the conversation continued as follows:
Me: "ran mingla kade sigkeeu?" (what is your name)
Girl: "Lhamdra... ran mingla?" (Lhamdra... what about your name?)
Me: "Kelly"
Lhamdra: something I didn't understand but I thought it was: what do you do?
Me: "nga gela" (I am a teacher)
Lhamdra: "lhogba... ran lho catsire?" (age... how old are you?)
Me: "nga... nee... nee shoo sum" (I'm... two... twenty-three)
Lhamdra: something else I didn't understand but pointing to the boxes of candy in my lap that I had just bought for my students.
Me: "nga gela..." point to the candy, "jeenee... lobto" (I'm a teacher, sugar... student) hey it's the best I could do.
Lhamdra: something else I didn't understand but she was using her hands like she was praying... I was really confused.
Add to my confusion that this whole time the bus helper girl has been yelling out all of my responses with glee to anyone who was interested, and they were, and these pilgrim women had been exchanging comments among each other after my every broken attempt. Not to mention the fact that I thought the student sitting behind me would end up in my lap for how far he was leaning into the conversation.
Luckily my stop was coming right up... I tugged on the sleeve of the bus helper girl and in the best Chinese I could muster (which, if you can believe it, is even sketchier than my Tibetan) said "ting yi sha, shi xiao" (stop the bus at the teacher's college). Candy in hand I jumped off the bus and with a wave and a grin called out "caleshu!!!" (good-bye) and, with what could have been either amusement or relief, at least half the bus called out "pe-oh" (good-bye).
Nga puyi junkee yu (I am learning Tibetan)... and I have a long, long way to go...
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Who says exams aren't fun?
So it's official, my students are hilarious. I was afraid that the tedium of speaking exams would bore me to a dull stupor. Instead I have been able to look forward to each one with glee!
Here is a snapshot of what exams this week have looked like. I am so proud.
Quxi: He is very handsome and kind.
Lamu: You are lucky.
Quxi: Thank you. Would you like beef?
Gu: ... Look there!
Qiu: Where!
Gu: There... (pointing wildly at me) who is she?
Huang Tao: Can you introduce a doctor to me?
Xiao Liang: Yes. Of course.
Huang Tao: What is he like?
Xiao Liang: He is so cool!
Daughter: She comes from America.
Mom: Cool, America is the most developed country at present.
Sang Zhu: He is cool and funny and friendly. Oh it's time for lunch. My mother is waiting for me. Bye!
BaSangDeJi: Where are you going?
CiDanZhuoMa: I am going to your home to ask you some questions about English.
BaSangDeJi: Oh.
Suo Guo: Why do you get up so early?
Suo Yang: because there are just a few days before final exam. I am afraid that I will fail my exam.
Suo Guo: Take it easy!
BaiMa: What is she like?
Qu Zhen: She is pretty and very friendship. She often give me happy.
CiRen: You can't help me, becaue my lovely cat is just death.
BaSang: You don't sad. I can help you. Yesterday my family's big cat give birth to three small cat. I can give you one of a small cat.
CiRen: Really?
BaSang: Yes, tomorrow afternoon two o'clock I give you a small cat.
JiLaMu: What a nice day! The air is so fresh.
BaSangLaMu: But it might be very cold at night. Put on more clothes please.
Ciba: yes in the morning I went to the hospital but I forget to bring money!
DanZeng: It's okay, Lisa can help you. I will call, she send some medicine.
Ciba: Who is she?
DanZeng: She is my sister she is a doctor.
Ciba: How old is she?
DanZeng: She is nineteen years old.
Here is a snapshot of what exams this week have looked like. I am so proud.
Quxi: He is very handsome and kind.
Lamu: You are lucky.
Quxi: Thank you. Would you like beef?
Gu: ... Look there!
Qiu: Where!
Gu: There... (pointing wildly at me) who is she?
Huang Tao: Can you introduce a doctor to me?
Xiao Liang: Yes. Of course.
Huang Tao: What is he like?
Xiao Liang: He is so cool!
Daughter: She comes from America.
Mom: Cool, America is the most developed country at present.
Sang Zhu: He is cool and funny and friendly. Oh it's time for lunch. My mother is waiting for me. Bye!
BaSangDeJi: Where are you going?
CiDanZhuoMa: I am going to your home to ask you some questions about English.
BaSangDeJi: Oh.
Suo Guo: Why do you get up so early?
Suo Yang: because there are just a few days before final exam. I am afraid that I will fail my exam.
Suo Guo: Take it easy!
BaiMa: What is she like?
Qu Zhen: She is pretty and very friendship. She often give me happy.
CiRen: You can't help me, becaue my lovely cat is just death.
BaSang: You don't sad. I can help you. Yesterday my family's big cat give birth to three small cat. I can give you one of a small cat.
CiRen: Really?
BaSang: Yes, tomorrow afternoon two o'clock I give you a small cat.
JiLaMu: What a nice day! The air is so fresh.
BaSangLaMu: But it might be very cold at night. Put on more clothes please.
Ciba: yes in the morning I went to the hospital but I forget to bring money!
DanZeng: It's okay, Lisa can help you. I will call, she send some medicine.
Ciba: Who is she?
DanZeng: She is my sister she is a doctor.
Ciba: How old is she?
DanZeng: She is nineteen years old.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Does this count as an evaluation?
So this week has been speaking exams week. The students come in pairs to present a dialogue and then must individually answer questions.
Here is one example of their dialogues (an above average example)... maybe this will make up for the "elementary" foreign teacher's examination that I promptly failed (in the words of Mr. Wu "You should have cheated"). haha.
Good huh? Well you should see the "photograph" that they brought of me...
HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
What's not to love?
Here is one example of their dialogues (an above average example)... maybe this will make up for the "elementary" foreign teacher's examination that I promptly failed (in the words of Mr. Wu "You should have cheated"). haha.
Luo Qu: Hi, Qu Zhen, how are you?
Qu Zhen: I'm fine thanks, and you?
Luo Qu: I am not bad. What are you doing?
Qu Zhen: I'm reciting English words.
Luo Qu: Is it grammar?
Qu Zhen: No, it's Ms. Kelly assignment.
Luo Qu: I heard that your foreign teacher is so funny at your English class.
Qu Zhen: Are you sure? Our teacher's class is very active.
Luo Qu: It is true. What is she like?
Qu Zhen: Oh, she is pretty, she has pair of beautiful eyes. She is very nice.
Luo Qu: If you have free time could you introduce her to me?
Qu Zhen: No problem, our teacher is very friendly. I believe you must like her.
Luo Qu: I think so, oh do you have her photograph?
Qu Zhen: I almost forget... have a look the photo. Are you have same feeling to me?
Luo Qu: Yes.
Qu Zhen: Oh, how is you find examination? How is review?
Luo Qu: I feel so so about it. We have a lot of thing to recite.
Qu Zhen: So do I, the students have many presure. We have many things to do.
Luo Qu: The score can't represent nothing.
Qu Zhen: I think so, we can try our best.
Luo Qu: What time is it now?
Qu Zhen: It's time to have a class.
Luo Qu: I must go.
Qu Zhen: See you later.
Good huh? Well you should see the "photograph" that they brought of me...
HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAWhat's not to love?
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Take me down to the riverside...
Let the little children come to Me. Don't stop them...
I was supposed to be having a Chinese "lesson" from one of my Chinese teacher friends who is leaving next week. He suddenly revealed to me that he tutored people in language learning, a fact which made me demand why he had been withholding his skills from me... So in an effort to glean everything that I can in the few final remaining days of contact we set up an appointment for me to have a lesson.
We decided to ride our bikes down to the Lhasa riverside because there was such beautiful weather and why miss the chance to soak it in. We biked down there and climbed over the concrete barrier and found some flat rocks near the river to sit on... honestly the view was so breath-taking I wasn't really paying much attention as my friend tried to give me a crash course in tones, grammar, and basic pronouns (everything I would need to learn Chinese quickly according to him). Picture a slightly dirty river, with all variety of birds splashing across the water and ducking underneath for fish, cutting a line across the bottom of (impossibly) still green mountains which looked as though someone had pinched the earth together with their hand and top it off with the bluest of blue skies... yeah, all that grammar will remain buried under that scene forever I think. And my friend was trying so hard.
Amazing scenery or not, our lesson was destined to be interrupted.
Stumbling over the rocky shore a tiny little boy came straight toward us. Though he couldn't have been more than 6 years old, his clothes looked as though they had been on him all his life, grungy as though he had just sprung up from the earth. There were two dried up snot trails on his face and his hair was short but long in the back, a common style of nomad children, but his eyes were fresh, brown, and alive.
In one hand he carried a rope of some sort, in the other a rock. He looked very upset and held his toys out to us, imploringly. My friend began telling the boy to go away, but I quickly stopped him, motioned for the little boy to come closer, gently took the rope and the rock from his hand. I know what little boys like to do with ropes and rocks.
So I tied one end of the rope to the rock tightly. Then I picked it up and, as the little boy was holding the other end of the rope, I threw the rock a little ways off... the whole thing flew out of his hand and his previously sullen face broke into giggles and laughter brighter than the sun that was glaring over the water. He ran to go get it and brought it back to me. This time I motioned for him to hold the rope tightly and again threw the rock... it went out but, because he was holding the rope, bounced back to him. Again, this was somehow the most entertaining thing that had happened to him all day.
The Chinese lesson forgotten, this little boy stole every bit of attention I possessed. At one point he came up mumbling something, my friend told me that he was asking for food. Oh I wished that I had some, or that there had been some sort of vendor nearby... I would have bought this kid a four course dinner. All I had was just a bit of candy in the bottom of my bag. Gladly sharing it with him, I asked "ran mingla kada sigeyu?" (what is your name? in Tibetan) he stared at me in wonder and said "Dawaji".
I wish the story ended there but it does not.
A few seconds later a stern looking man came over fussing at little Dawaji. The man took the rock and rope toy that we had made and threw it down and then slapped Dawaji across the face with the back of his hand. In tears and with, no doubt, a stinging face Dawaji stumbled after the man.
See that you don't look down on one of these little ones, because I tell you that in heaven their angels continually view the face of my Father in heaven.
What did your face look like then, Father?
We decided to ride our bikes down to the Lhasa riverside because there was such beautiful weather and why miss the chance to soak it in. We biked down there and climbed over the concrete barrier and found some flat rocks near the river to sit on... honestly the view was so breath-taking I wasn't really paying much attention as my friend tried to give me a crash course in tones, grammar, and basic pronouns (everything I would need to learn Chinese quickly according to him). Picture a slightly dirty river, with all variety of birds splashing across the water and ducking underneath for fish, cutting a line across the bottom of (impossibly) still green mountains which looked as though someone had pinched the earth together with their hand and top it off with the bluest of blue skies... yeah, all that grammar will remain buried under that scene forever I think. And my friend was trying so hard.
Amazing scenery or not, our lesson was destined to be interrupted.
Stumbling over the rocky shore a tiny little boy came straight toward us. Though he couldn't have been more than 6 years old, his clothes looked as though they had been on him all his life, grungy as though he had just sprung up from the earth. There were two dried up snot trails on his face and his hair was short but long in the back, a common style of nomad children, but his eyes were fresh, brown, and alive.
In one hand he carried a rope of some sort, in the other a rock. He looked very upset and held his toys out to us, imploringly. My friend began telling the boy to go away, but I quickly stopped him, motioned for the little boy to come closer, gently took the rope and the rock from his hand. I know what little boys like to do with ropes and rocks.
So I tied one end of the rope to the rock tightly. Then I picked it up and, as the little boy was holding the other end of the rope, I threw the rock a little ways off... the whole thing flew out of his hand and his previously sullen face broke into giggles and laughter brighter than the sun that was glaring over the water. He ran to go get it and brought it back to me. This time I motioned for him to hold the rope tightly and again threw the rock... it went out but, because he was holding the rope, bounced back to him. Again, this was somehow the most entertaining thing that had happened to him all day.
The Chinese lesson forgotten, this little boy stole every bit of attention I possessed. At one point he came up mumbling something, my friend told me that he was asking for food. Oh I wished that I had some, or that there had been some sort of vendor nearby... I would have bought this kid a four course dinner. All I had was just a bit of candy in the bottom of my bag. Gladly sharing it with him, I asked "ran mingla kada sigeyu?" (what is your name? in Tibetan) he stared at me in wonder and said "Dawaji".
I wish the story ended there but it does not.
A few seconds later a stern looking man came over fussing at little Dawaji. The man took the rock and rope toy that we had made and threw it down and then slapped Dawaji across the face with the back of his hand. In tears and with, no doubt, a stinging face Dawaji stumbled after the man.
See that you don't look down on one of these little ones, because I tell you that in heaven their angels continually view the face of my Father in heaven.
What did your face look like then, Father?
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Some things just hurt...
I don't often tell you about the images that I see that haunt me. But here we go:
After a very interesting conversation over a banana lassi, I was walking back with my friend who is a monk here. I forget what we were chatting about at the time, and it doesn't really matter because our whole conversation was rudely interrupted by the scene taking place before us.
In the street there was a young nomad woman, dressed in the traditional garb with her hair in the standard countless small braids. She was silently, but nonetheless quite violently, weeping. In her lap lay the unmoving form of a dirty child: hair disheveled, face and clothes filthy, mouth slightly open, body limp. Beside the woman passers-by were laying small amounts of money. No one was really stopping.
I did. I couldn't help it. Humanity here is so raw and tragic that I often find myself stopping, helplessly, to ask for help from the only One who is able.
This time I tugged at my monk friend's sleeve and begged him to find out if we could do anything: call the hospital, pay for a cab, whatever. He looked at me, quite stunned that I was asking, and replied quite calmly "Kelly, I think is no problem, I think is fake, just for money."
I didn't know how to respond, we kept walking, but I must have been visibly upset because the next words out of his mouth are "Kelly, please don't cry."
After a very interesting conversation over a banana lassi, I was walking back with my friend who is a monk here. I forget what we were chatting about at the time, and it doesn't really matter because our whole conversation was rudely interrupted by the scene taking place before us.
In the street there was a young nomad woman, dressed in the traditional garb with her hair in the standard countless small braids. She was silently, but nonetheless quite violently, weeping. In her lap lay the unmoving form of a dirty child: hair disheveled, face and clothes filthy, mouth slightly open, body limp. Beside the woman passers-by were laying small amounts of money. No one was really stopping.
I did. I couldn't help it. Humanity here is so raw and tragic that I often find myself stopping, helplessly, to ask for help from the only One who is able.
This time I tugged at my monk friend's sleeve and begged him to find out if we could do anything: call the hospital, pay for a cab, whatever. He looked at me, quite stunned that I was asking, and replied quite calmly "Kelly, I think is no problem, I think is fake, just for money."
I didn't know how to respond, we kept walking, but I must have been visibly upset because the next words out of his mouth are "Kelly, please don't cry."
Thursday, December 4, 2008
A woman on a bus, a man on a bench...
Interesting things happen all the time, I'm sure this is not just a Lhasa phenomenon. I think it's what happens when you walk listening attentively to the Spirit... or even not so attentively listening!
Yesterday I went to do the most ordinary thing: pick up a package from the post office. An activity that I have completed successfully many times and has little adventure left to it, so I thought. When will I learn not to take it for granted that everything will be normal and that adventure wears off?
I hopped on a bus because I have had a cold and cannot breathe when I am riding my bike. The lady that I plopped down next smiled and in crystal clear English said "where are you from?" After regaining my balance from almost falling out of the seat (it never fails to catch me off guard when someone in this city speaks English, I don't know what I'm going to do when I go home) I responded and we had an extremely pleasant conversation for the rest of the bus ride. Next week we will have tea together... who knows what will happen after that?
Because I took the bus I arrived at the post office a little too early. Since I had half an hour to kill, I decided to walk over to the little park in front of the Potala Palace and rest and do a little people watching. I had only just sat down, seriously, the seat wasn't even warm, when this little Chinese man yells out at me "Wei!" and comes on over to share the bench with me. This man, unlike the lady on the bus, did not speak one single word of English, not even "hello". I know because for the entire half hour he proceeded to talk to me, even though the full extent of my Chinese vocabulary is maybe three dozen words and a handful of phrases (most of which are related to buying and eating food). After a while I explained to him (miraculously) that I had to go to the post office, so I got up to leave and from what I could understand he decided that he was going to help me, because I obviously did not speak Chinese and needed his help, at least so he thought.
However, I have been to the post office many times, and this man, from all appearances once we got inside, had never been. He was walking up to the wrong counters, he was talking to all the people, the ladies (who I KNOW because I've been there often) were speaking to me in English and he was translating for me into Chinese! We had to wait a minute while someone went to get the packages and the man proceeded to demand that they give me my boxes. Honestly, I had no idea what was going on, or what he thought he was doing, or what I was expected to do in response. After recieving my boxes from the confused postal workers I expalined to the man (miraculously) that I was going home. "xie xie ni" I called as I dashed out of the door for fear that he would "help" me get home.
And the adventure continues...
Yesterday I went to do the most ordinary thing: pick up a package from the post office. An activity that I have completed successfully many times and has little adventure left to it, so I thought. When will I learn not to take it for granted that everything will be normal and that adventure wears off?
I hopped on a bus because I have had a cold and cannot breathe when I am riding my bike. The lady that I plopped down next smiled and in crystal clear English said "where are you from?" After regaining my balance from almost falling out of the seat (it never fails to catch me off guard when someone in this city speaks English, I don't know what I'm going to do when I go home) I responded and we had an extremely pleasant conversation for the rest of the bus ride. Next week we will have tea together... who knows what will happen after that?
Because I took the bus I arrived at the post office a little too early. Since I had half an hour to kill, I decided to walk over to the little park in front of the Potala Palace and rest and do a little people watching. I had only just sat down, seriously, the seat wasn't even warm, when this little Chinese man yells out at me "Wei!" and comes on over to share the bench with me. This man, unlike the lady on the bus, did not speak one single word of English, not even "hello". I know because for the entire half hour he proceeded to talk to me, even though the full extent of my Chinese vocabulary is maybe three dozen words and a handful of phrases (most of which are related to buying and eating food). After a while I explained to him (miraculously) that I had to go to the post office, so I got up to leave and from what I could understand he decided that he was going to help me, because I obviously did not speak Chinese and needed his help, at least so he thought.
However, I have been to the post office many times, and this man, from all appearances once we got inside, had never been. He was walking up to the wrong counters, he was talking to all the people, the ladies (who I KNOW because I've been there often) were speaking to me in English and he was translating for me into Chinese! We had to wait a minute while someone went to get the packages and the man proceeded to demand that they give me my boxes. Honestly, I had no idea what was going on, or what he thought he was doing, or what I was expected to do in response. After recieving my boxes from the confused postal workers I expalined to the man (miraculously) that I was going home. "xie xie ni" I called as I dashed out of the door for fear that he would "help" me get home.
And the adventure continues...
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Instructions on buying ground beef
First of all: forget the thought of ground beef... think ground yak.
Second: Mention to your local friend that you need some ground meat, have a brief discussion on buying meat already ground versus buying meat and then having it ground. Choice B is better because then at least you know what is mashed up in there.
Third: Wander over to the section of the street that smells like congealed blood and is festively adorned with strips of animals parts hanging everywhere.
Fourth: Find the dirtiest looking man you can see. Duck under the frozen yak carcasses and engage in what appears to be a heated discussion on price per pound. After that decision has been reached, proceed to step five.
My favorite: Step Five: choosing the meat. Should it be fatty? Should it be lean? Should it be more frozen or less? Should it be gristly? What part of the animal do you want? For heaven's sake touch it and don't forget to smell it just to make sure. Note: master control of your gag reflex before attempting step five.
Sixth: Walk your plastic bag of semi frozen meat down the street two blocks to the lady who owns the grinder machines. Stand back and watch in amazement as she grinds two pounds of some part of yak in seconds.
Seventh: Find some additional plastic bags to double layer the one holding the freshly ground meat... wouldn't want that thing to break open on your twenty minute bike ride back home.
And there you have it, how to buy ground beef. So I'm thinking of a taco night in the near future.
Second: Mention to your local friend that you need some ground meat, have a brief discussion on buying meat already ground versus buying meat and then having it ground. Choice B is better because then at least you know what is mashed up in there.
Third: Wander over to the section of the street that smells like congealed blood and is festively adorned with strips of animals parts hanging everywhere.
Fourth: Find the dirtiest looking man you can see. Duck under the frozen yak carcasses and engage in what appears to be a heated discussion on price per pound. After that decision has been reached, proceed to step five.
My favorite: Step Five: choosing the meat. Should it be fatty? Should it be lean? Should it be more frozen or less? Should it be gristly? What part of the animal do you want? For heaven's sake touch it and don't forget to smell it just to make sure. Note: master control of your gag reflex before attempting step five.
Sixth: Walk your plastic bag of semi frozen meat down the street two blocks to the lady who owns the grinder machines. Stand back and watch in amazement as she grinds two pounds of some part of yak in seconds.
Seventh: Find some additional plastic bags to double layer the one holding the freshly ground meat... wouldn't want that thing to break open on your twenty minute bike ride back home.
And there you have it, how to buy ground beef. So I'm thinking of a taco night in the near future.
Signs of the season...
I hear those sleigh bells ringaling ring ting tingaling too...
So I know in America there are probably candy canes in every shop, Christmas tunes bombarding every radio station, twinkly lights adorning most windows, inflatable Christmas characters in every mobile home park.
Here the signs that Christmas season is fast approaching look a little different....
Take picture one: what you have here is an assortment of nasty given to me, oh so generously, by the students. Some nuts, some yak cheese (think hard rotten yak cheese brick), some "sugar" aka dried up yak milk. It doesn't exactly replace the caramel popcorn and cheese straws that are standard in America, but the end of the semester is nigh and gift giving season(be wary traveler) is close at hand.
Picture two: No, that is not a radioactive rabbit head sitting on top of my book shelf, that is a humidifier. The weather here has (all of a sudden) turned quite bitterly cold (ignore the deceptive sunshine) and dryer than anything I've ever known, water evaporates basically instantaneously. The only way to beat it is to set up the delightfully designed humidifier and crank up the heaters...
Picture three: I just love this little tree. I love the ornaments, I love the lights, I love the way that it makes this whole place seem so much more like home... I can almost smell the woodstove, I can almost taste the broccoli and cheese casserole...
This is a great season of so much expectation... after all this is the time when we remember that a child is born to us! A son is given to us! And he will be our ruler. He will be called, "Wonderful Counselor," "Mighty One," "Eternal Father," Prince of Peace." Isn't He the gift that we all need? Way better than some rotten cheese hunks?
So I know in America there are probably candy canes in every shop, Christmas tunes bombarding every radio station, twinkly lights adorning most windows, inflatable Christmas characters in every mobile home park.
Here the signs that Christmas season is fast approaching look a little different....
Take picture one: what you have here is an assortment of nasty given to me, oh so generously, by the students. Some nuts, some yak cheese (think hard rotten yak cheese brick), some "sugar" aka dried up yak milk. It doesn't exactly replace the caramel popcorn and cheese straws that are standard in America, but the end of the semester is nigh and gift giving season(be wary traveler) is close at hand.
Picture two: No, that is not a radioactive rabbit head sitting on top of my book shelf, that is a humidifier. The weather here has (all of a sudden) turned quite bitterly cold (ignore the deceptive sunshine) and dryer than anything I've ever known, water evaporates basically instantaneously. The only way to beat it is to set up the delightfully designed humidifier and crank up the heaters...
Picture three: I just love this little tree. I love the ornaments, I love the lights, I love the way that it makes this whole place seem so much more like home... I can almost smell the woodstove, I can almost taste the broccoli and cheese casserole...
This is a great season of so much expectation... after all this is the time when we remember that a child is born to us! A son is given to us! And he will be our ruler. He will be called, "Wonderful Counselor," "Mighty One," "Eternal Father," Prince of Peace." Isn't He the gift that we all need? Way better than some rotten cheese hunks?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Are they looking out or in?