Shout out to really cool boxes!

I have got to give a shout out to the box that my family and fellowship sent to me that I just received. Really, it was amazing.

It was amazing that it made it all the way to Lhasa and when I picked it up at the post office it was definitely worse for the wear, it barely made it the 20 minute bike ride back up the hill to my home.

It was amazing for what was included inside: m&m's, junior mints, crasins, dried cranberries, granola bars, letters from home, nuts, more snickers nut crackers that a single person can dream of eating, a pair of jeans, some undershirts, a UNC basketball championship t-shirt, sunscreen, magazines, some sharp cheddar cheese in wax, grace, grace, and more grace.

I teared up upon opening it, I can get none of those things in Lhasa. Thank you.

Going public...

An example of when it pays to display your own foolishness:

Nga puh-gi junkee yu (I am learning to speak Tibetan). Nga dits dits hacoson (I only understand a little). The man who sits at our school gate made this discovery the other day.

I was coming back from buying cream cheese (an expensive splurge) at the tiny import market on the other side of town. I walked past the gate man and smiled and he said (in Tibetan) "where did you go?" Not slowing down much I said, a tad too confidently, (in Tibetan) "I'm fine thanks."

Two steps later I realized my mistake and with an eagerness to correct it that I'm sure was as surprising to the gate man and his cronies as my response had been I began to stammer out random Tibetan words that may or may not have meant "I was shopping." He, miraculously, seemed to understand and said (in Tibetan) "you were in Lhasa city."

Relieved that I had somehow communicated I, again a tad too confidently, responded (in Chinese) "correct," and then a second later again realizing my mistake, (in Tibetan) "yes."

Ah-mo! (woah!) puh-gi cagbodu! (Tibtean language is hard!) Nga lobtro yapomendu! (I am a bad student!) But hey at least I'm trying... and the payoff: my students were estactic to hear this story, and the gate man just giggles every time he sees me.

Because it's been a while...

The miracle of grace...

So I have been living in Asia for over six months and today I was able to put all the pieces of everything that I've learned how to do, or found, or retaught myself (the way a rehab patient reteaches themselves) and make for lunch a ham and cheese sandwich.

I wish I had taken a picture of it: it was real bread, handmade out of a mixture of wheat flours that were given to me and some yeast that was also donated. It was real ham that was revealed to me at a store amidst all the other "ham" products that usually adorn the shelves and peoples stomachs. It was a very mild cheese that I have to bike for half an hour to buy. It was real mayonnaise that I never dreamed would taste like America to me. It was fresh lettuce that had been washed so many times it was almost limp. It was cut on the diagonal.

It was a thing of real and unique beauty, and I'm not even exaggerating.

It was delicious.

Seriously people, when I bit into that thing my whole body just relaxed. It was a miracle of grace to me. I ate it in the sunshine and washed it down with a glass of sweet iced tea Bojangles style. I know my Father loves me.

If: (conjunction) in the event that...

Indian clothes are so bad, if Buddha had been born in Tibet we would wear chupas.
-Soba (Tibetan monk of twenty years)

If Buddha had been born in Tibet he wouldn't have been Buddhist.
If I had been born in Tibet I might have been.

If I were a tiny Tibetan boy I would definitely think that the scraps of paper and bits of metal treasures that I had stuffed in the pockets of my split pants were awesome things to offer to a friend.

If I were a Tibetan nun I would be ridiculously curious about the foreigner girl in my tea house asking me how to say "fly (as in insect)" in Tibetan and might even invite her to my tiny little cell foot achingly near the peak of some mountain.

If I were a Chinese teacher I would think that my foreign co-worker was the strangest person on earth for how slowly she counts money and how frequently she insists that Chinese food is so delicious or repeats "tai ke shi le!" (it's a pity) since that's the only phrase she really knows.

If I were a Chinese person I would not realize the outpouring of love that looks like a plate of deviled eggs and tastes like a home that I could not have imagined.

If I were native to this city I would not be sitting in the semi-dark because most of my light bulbs have burnt out and I don't know where to get new ones.

If I chose not to look I would miss the small children digging "treasures" out of their pockets or wearing absurdly bright colored hats with flowers or eating hot dogs on sticks, I would fail to notice the nuns who grin shyly at me in hopes that I speak more Tibetan than I actually do, I would not have the chance to laugh at the shock on my Chinese co-workers faces when I unwittingly do something uniquely not Chinese, I would bypass the grace that is a plate of deviled eggs and take for granted that I know how and where to buy light bulbs.

If I did not know that the One who took all my shame away and beckoned me into His family loves me still and is the very one who makes every leaf green and every cloud on a bright blue sky fluffy I would be miserable.

If I had been born in Tibet I would not know that anyone took my shame away and beckoned me into their family.

If Buddha had been born in Tibet, he probably wouldn't have been Buddhist, but nevertheless, all the monks would wear chupas.

The basic moves...

You are more clever than I supposed! -Tang Xin

In Chinese chess there are seven different pieces, each one has different moves, different places it is allowed to go, different responses, different values. There are five soldiers, two knights, two cannons, two chariots, two bishops, two guards, and one general.

So, my question is: which one am I?

The soldier moves slowly, only forward one place at a time until it crosses the border than it can move right or left also, still slowly, one place at a time. In my classes we move slowly, only forward one day at time, covering one painfully basic topic after another. In my language learning I move slowly, one word at a time, mastering one pitiful phrase after another. I am a soldier.

The knight is more powerful, it can move in eight different directions in an L shape... unless something is blocking it. Then it goes no where. My spare time can be spent in many directions: maybe I will have lunch with a co-teacher, maybe I will have lunch with the grocery store family across the street: today I had lunch with both. But all it takes is a bad cold to keep me from going out at all. I am a knight.

The cannons and chariots are largely the same, moving as far as they wish horizontally or vertically on the board, with one vital exception: the cannons must work together with another piece in order to capture something. There is little I am not capable of doing to function in this city: I can shop, I can find, I can explore, I can catch a bus... but when I need to do something that requires advanced communicative skills I need another piece's help. I am a chariot. I am a cannon.

The bishop is an interesting piece. It can only move diagonally across four squares and then only on its side of the board. At first glance it appears useless and the least valuable among the pieces, but those who are wise know its worth. My life often feels like this, so little impact, so little skill, so little movement, I need to be careful lest I forget my own worth. I am a bishop.

The guard only has five possible places to move and is rarely used unless the general is threatened. It is a focused piece, with only one purpose: guard the general. I too, have a very clear purpose here. I need constantly to remind myself to be patient and protect that which has been entrusted to me. I am a guard.

The general is the piece which the whole game revolves around. The object is to capture the other sides general while leaving yours protected. It also does not move much but tends to remain constant, allowing the other pieces to work for it. Once a general is captured: game over.

One thing is certain, I am not the general. But I know who is.

And, now, I also know how to play Chinese chess.

A week in meals...

You are what you eat is a frightening proposition.
Unless you're talking about communion, in which case it is divine.

Monday

Breakfast of steamed buns dipped into butter tea (what's easier than spreading butter onto bread? Dipping it) in the company of an excited team of students ready to go on a day long hike.

Lunch was a plastic bag of steamed buns into each of which was squeezed from an accompanying plastic package some spicy vegetable matter labeled, unconvincingly, PURE. Eaten on a flat ridge of a mountain in the afternoon sun with a group of students singing a song dedicated to their English teacher.

Dinner of chicken, cheese zucchini, and mashed potatoes with a teammate providing relief from the steamed bread repetitions of the day.

Tuesday

The breakfast of the week starting today was a semi-failed attempt at cinnamon raisin biscuits. Nothing spectacular of mention, though repetive.

Lunch was a ceramic bowl filled with homemade broth, tofu, and an assortment of vegetables pulled out of the fridge and placed on the gas burner, eaten in haste as company was expected shortly.

Some refried meat momo's and leftover bean soup for dinner took care of some random things colonizing in my freezer.

Wednesday

A long walk to a tea house with a handful of giggly, hyperactive girl students resulted in a lunch of semi-cooled street potatoes overdosed on la jiao, maddening amounts of butter tea, and a plate of meat momo's which were tasty but surprisingly medium-rare. Followed with a walk around the monastery and then washed down with sweet milk tea.

Dinner was a shared plate of dumplings with a monk friend after an utterly fascinating hour and half of watching his debating. Dumplings being excellent choice of food to ruminate on the mystery and futility of such events as well as declare next week a prime hiking opportunity.

Thursday

Another crack at the meat momo's and sweet milk tea for lunch was a really satisfying experience. You know they're good when fat drips out of them and congeals in your dish of pickled radishes. You know you're company's good when you do not tire after two hours and additional random friends drop in to join you.

Dinner was a much needed plate of vitamins and minerals in the form of spinach at the restaurant that has a miraculous way of consistently making everything delicious. Eaten while correcting some papers and passing time until the next sweet milk tea extraveganza.

Friday

A dash up the street into a makeshift alley to meet a nun friend where the first course of the best fried potatoes I have ever eaten and some strange clear noodle-esqu dish was eaten on a plastic stool facing a crumbly wall. Second course was the best getuk (flour noodles in meat broth with green onions, bits of pork, and peanuts mixed in) I have ever eaten along with sweet milk tea at the tea house next door where striking dilapidation of the building is easily forgotten in light of the deliciousness of the food.

Dinner with two tiny Chinese girl co-teachers was a giant bowl of what could have been elephant bones for the size of them boiled in a broth with turnips, sea weed, cabbage, and potatoes. Finished off with some sesame filled boiled rice balls. A belly ache ensued, not from the meal, but from the near continuous laughter.