The place I live...

"I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself."
-Maya Angelou

So I have tried, and tried in vain, to get the awesome video tour of this apartment that I made to upload. So a brief, but detailed, picture tour will have to suffice:

Picture yourself opening a large brown door on the third floor of an apartment building at the edge of campus...

Stepping into the apartment one is greeted by a short hallway with a tiny room on either side. To the left is a kitchen. Don't despair friends, it is totally adequate. I have a stove (used frequently to boil water), an oven-esque thing, a microwave, and a fridge/freezer. There's even room for a little sink and some shelves of random cooking utensils. You may not believe this, but I've made some fairly edible pizza in there before.


To the right of the hallway is the bathroom. This is the most exciting part of the apartment because it is least like anything back home. Whatever you do, don't lean on that sink... I think it's attached to the wall by hope. The shower is fantastic because I can get hot water basically any time I want, and I want it. The squatty... well I haven't fallen in or made any messes yet and the cool thing is that you have to turn the flush on and off. Essentially meaning that you can flush all you want, you could let that flush run for hours if you wanted (or needed?). I really enjoy that.


Then there's the living room. If you look carefully you can see the lamp that I bought at the "Kmart" which I still am very proud of. You can also see the Tibetan style furniture, once you get over the strange choice of fabric patterns it's really comfortable. You might also notice the TV in the corner... I have no idea why I have it, honestly the only thing it could possibly be used for until I buy some Chinese DVD's is to watch Chinese soaps, and trust me, you don't want to do that. The clothes washer also resides in this room, it's exciting because you have to move it into the bathroom and fill it with water yourself to get it to work. What you don't see is what I will hereby refer to as "the scary red bike" the chain of which came off as I was riding it through the city. We fixed it, but I'm going to buy a new one and let daredevils borrow that bad boy.


Moving on... to the bedroom area. This is my favorite part of the apartment, honestly. I love looking out the window because the view is really nice, you can see the Potala Palace (at night it's all lit up), and there is so much entertainment on the street outside. If you're lucky you may chance to see a heard of cows, a motorcycle parade, a dust storm, random people peeing, or all of the above. The desk area is nice too, I have some pictures of family and friends up and the bed is really comfortable. Wait, what is that you say? That bed looks suspiciously like the "couch" in the living room? Well that's because it's the same piece of furniture, multi-tasking people!


Yes, yes, the walls are still kinda bare (couldn't find any posters at the "Kmart") but at the end of the semester I'm inheriting a few house plants so I'm looking forward to that. I actually really like it here and have no complaints at all about the situation... except for that funny lingering smell that I can't seem to capture on camera... it's that smell that keeps the incense vendors in business, forget all the merit making piety...

Y'all should come visit (I'm as serious as I can be with the travel restrictions)... my couch/bed contraption is up for grabs! :)

It's earning merit for someone...

To shoot down nine suns...

I want to tell you a story.

It is the story of the Chinese Autumn festival, it is the story of my first shopping experience in Lhasa.

Once upon a time the people lived under the glaring heat of ten suns. The people are desperate, they complain of not having enough to eat.

Dashing off the grimy, smoke-filled bus, myself and two Chinese teachers headed straight for the crowded menagerie of shop after shop filled with every kind of clothing one could imagine in only one size: Asian. Think coats with sleeves ridiculously short and tiny little pants, maybe for dolls, or anyone who isn't shaped like a Westerner.


All of their hard work went to nothing as the heat from the ten suns burnt all of their crops to a crisp. The only thing that was left of their harvest was mere ashes.

Here was a part of Lhasa I had yet to experience. The culture of materialism. It is easy to get spellbound by all of the merit making activities and general spiritual atmosphere of the place and forget that here, like everywhere, people want stuff. And stuff they shall have...

Fortunately, Hero has been practicing his archery skills. He is strong, his bow is powerful, his arrows are accurate.

We go into shop after shop, trying on all kinds of shirts and jackets and shoes. In some hidden alley we wander into a shop that looks like it is selling a grand total of about 14 different items (one of each, in only one size) and find a shirt that is really more like a dress. I try it on, and am convinced by my fellow teachers that it is quality, though I don't see the point in actually paying what is suggested for it. Here is where it gets interesting: one of the teachers looks at me and eagerly whispers "I will bargain for it."

With ease, he takes aim at the suns and one by one shoots nine out of the sky.

And so in a quiet little shop all kinds of chaos breaks loose. For about forty seconds my friend and the shop keeper are all but screaming at each other and looking as though one is going to claw the others eyes out. My poor American self is desperately thinking, "it's not even worth this, I don't even want it that bad, I don't want anything that bad, let's just go..." Then, in what seems the very midst of the argument my friend looks at me and quite calmly asserts that I can pay half of the suggested price if I still want the shirt.

Nine suns fall to warm melting heaps on the ground. One is left, it is all the people need to survive.

Stunned, I bought it.

A partial parade of students

Ode to the realization that it's really not about me...

People, I'm for real out of my element.

Within the past two hours I have drunk about a liter of butter tea (now is not the time to describe the taste), learned Tibetan circle dances (repetitive doesn't mean easy) , and taught the "Macarena"(aka. American middle school dance classic).

Within the past day I have played basketball (why does the world think all Americans are like LeBron James?), used more vaseline then I ever thought necessary (curses to the dry air combined with chalk dust), and been to a Tibetan "glamor shots" store (I'll let you dream about that one).

Within the past week I have ridden a bike through the city (horrifying but possible), broke the bike (really don't think it was my fault), and caught a taxi (in an unrelated circumstance) by myself.

Who would have dreamed that I could stomach that much butter tea, become a dance instructor, basketball extrodinare, vaseline poster child, bike rider/breaker and fluent in the art of taxi-ing?

Not I... but I know who did dream it up.

I may not be in my element, but I'm in the right one... and moment by moment I'm reminded of how little it's about me.

The calm before the blasting Jimi Hendrix...

So after an absolutely wacky first week (we've all had them) with stimulus overload dripping from my ears, my brain so tightly wound that one of those lazy flies in the hallway (I haven't told you about them yet have I... oh they are hysterically slow, but no one will kill them because they don't want it to come back and bite them in another life) could have caused a melt down, and my body freaking out from lack of oxygen and an unpredictable environment, yesterday I crashed... totally, completely, exhausted.

Yet, somehow, ridiculously, unable to sleep.

This afternoon I read in Ezekiel chapter 20: I also gave them my Sabbaths to serve as a sign between Me and them, so they will know that I am the [one] who sets them apart as holy.

Sabbath. [sab-uh th] n.
a period of rest.

May we take these times consistently and with great care lest we forget who makes us holy.

I have a feeling that I will sleep well and deep tonight despite the fact that someone in this building has a Jimi Hendrix fetish... who would have guessed that he has a fan base in Lhasa?

Good night.

When you know you're clueless... or living in another country