Here is a sampling of my close to 200 photographs snapped during the trip. Enjoy!

fish at the market

pig heads and chilies

motorbike ride around Ayutthaya (woo hoo!)

bike ride to the park

feast with friends and host family

Mama of the house, Da

fish, fruit, sweet rice in bamboo

home-stay kitchen and view from balcony

Pad Thai lesson in the kitchen

bottom bunk, gecko in the bathroom

bike ride with some ladies

golden Buddha

stray pups

lunch at a coworker's home

see you again soon, Thailand

Ayutthaya (พระนครศรีอยุธยา)  is where I was headed, to volunteer teaching English at a mega-flood effected Buddhist Primary School for two weeks. I held my passport tightly in a bag over my shoulder and trailed a small suitcase packed with a few warm-weather clothes behind me. As my blouse slowly plastered itself to my lower back, I wondered what I was getting myself into on this “voluntour” trip, besides heat stroke. My smiley Thai escort opened the door of the van and I hopped into the backseat, silently praying for some A/C relief and a decent tan. A/C, check. We sped off down the left side of the highway, past countless decorative portraits of Rama IX, and into the unknown.

Pepsi in a bottle, morning-glory, me & a kindergartener, 7 ft high flood water mark

Thailand was recently struck by devastating floods during the 2011 monsoon season;  over 500 lives were lost and millions of homes were swept away or damaged. The daily reminders of “the worst flooding yet” are scattered throughout the city as aftermath, the country left behind with billions of dollars in repairs. Experts fear that at least half of the more than 200 waterlogged monasteries, fortresses, and other monuments in the one-time royal capital have been harmed. With water up to 10 feet (3 meters) high flooding the area for weeks, the buildings that currently stand wear massive stripes of rusted and bleached siding, many of them slowly sinking into the ground. As I toured the city during my stay, I was deeply affected by the visible destruction to the beautiful tropical scenery. To my surprise, I was also inspired by the uplifting spirit of the Thai community: warm smiles, helping hands… a far cry from my local encounters in China.

little kindergartener putting tropical flowers in my hair

girls in pink uniforms (for Tuesday)

At Wat Kudi Lai Primary School, the children never stop smiling. In bright pink uniforms, the students commute to school from their neighborhood; many live in dirt-floored houses held together by blue tarps and sheets of corrugated metal. They nest with their entire family in small quarters, playing barefoot on dirt roads and in storm ditches next to pools of stagnant water. These bright-eyed children have difficult lives, the extent of their struggle I personally cannot relate to. I can only imagine, however, how much grief their families have endured, what and whom they’ve lost in the recent months.

As a visitor to the country, it’s easy to take a photo and feel sympathy for people based on the physical appearance of their lives, but despite the emotional divide between me and the school community, I tried my best to help, too. I lent my ear to teachers for listening and my hand to students for holding. Everyday at school, the children were glowing with joy and promise, no matter if their uniforms were torn or their toys dusty and warped from water damage. I witnessed loving cooperation at Wat Kudi Lai; everyone working together, big ans small, to heal wounds and restore school life back to normal, one day at a time.

Bier coloring her name

Allie teaching the kids the ABCs, exterior of the school, Feah happily trying on new donated clothes

Each morning, my roommate and fellow volunteer, Allie, and I took the open-back bus from Chao Phrom Market to the school, a 10 baht (32 cent) commute. “Teeecha! Teeecha!” chimed from a stampede of sunny five and six-year-olds as they stampeded towards us everyday. They were so excited to see us, running out the classroom door to embrace us as a pack, that no matter how muggy the day was or how little sleep I got the night before (no thanks to howling stray dogs) it made me feel glad to be there.

Dressed in brightly colored uniforms (the King’s favorite color), the dozen students hardly spoke any English. I found myself constantly shrugging my shoulders and waving my hands in confusion when a little munchkin would ask me questions in Thai. With the language barrier in the way I communicated as best I could, by enthusiastically repeating basic colors during art time, quizzing them on the rainbow in their crayon box, for example. Allie and I taught them English songs (such as, “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes” and “The Hokey Pokey”), we reviewed the Alphabet and numbers one through ten, and played games with the class during free time, barefoot on the cool linoleum floor (Duck Duck Goose, anyone?). Without their teacher, Took, to translate, Allie and I would have been utterly helpless!

clay art, relay races

I cut out the ABCs for the classroom wall

Ahm at her desk, Tong proud of his block city

The open-air primary school has about 70 students, ages 5-12, with 6 teachers on staff. During the heat of the day, fans swayed back and forth on the wall, the sunlight illuminating the classroom. The bare walls, moldy ceiling, and peeling bulletin board paper were sure signs that flood waters washed through the first level kindergarten room. Since then, the kids have grown used to a lack of visuals, something that the Northern Virginia schools, on the other hand, often go overboard with. Instead, plain faded blocks, recycled copy paper, and nubs of waxy crayons kept the children entertained during free-time. They made the most of what they had. Wow. I was blown away at the simplicity of the classroom and the cooperation from the children. It made me take a second look a what’s important in life, and think about what I have been taking for granted in my own happiness.

serving lunch with Took, the kindergarten teacher

lunch for the teachers, out front of school

praying & lunchtime

Lunchtime! Around the corner from the classroom the cafeteria consisted of a medium-sized room with peeling sea-foam green paint and tarnished tables. I volunteered to help serve the rice in the kitchen assembly line and was ordered to give each child a scoop based on their physical size. The kindergartners were served first, one scoop of rice with some chicken broth and a cup of water. If I hadn’t been supervised, I would have given the kids a serving size their growing bodies deserved, more than a handful. Somedays I carefully picked dozens of ants out of the giant rice cooker, trying to hide the infestation from the kids. They took their plate with a “khap khun kha/khrap (thank you)”, but I couldn’t help but feel like I was in a scene straight out of “Oliver Twist”, rationing rice onto dented tin plates.

Before eating they pressed their tiny palms together and loudly recited a prayer, sternly reminded to be thankful for the food in front of them. Older students mopped the floors  while hungry and mangy stray dogs wandered in and out of the open room, sniffing for scraps on the floor.

Tom & Jerry before naptime

baby powdered, to show their parents that they were cared for during the day

sleepy-head, after school pickup

The days at school flew by: a few hours of classroom work, then lunch and recess, followed by nap time and snack. The kindergarten schedule of a class in rural Thailand is not that different from suburban Virginia, USA. Before I knew it, parents were zipping up on motorbikes ready to scoop up their well-rested and freshly powder-faced children.

Sadly, I got a glimpse into the lives of low-income families effected by a natural disaster. These little animated kids made me realize that no matter how hard life may seem, there is always hope for the future. They welcomed me with hugs and flowers, drew me pictures, and lit up when I arrived. I truly hope they felt the peace and compassion I tried hard to reflect as a “teecha” from America. I hope I made a difference in their sweet little lives.

one happy kindergarten family! (and freshly painted murals in the classroom, courtesy of local volunteers)

Red and Yellow all around.

Having learned no more than a few fleeting lessons in school about Chinese New Year, I realized I knew next to nothing about it up until a few days ago. So much so, that I naively assumed it was mainly a Chinese holiday. Not until Jenny informed me that celebrations were in full swing in Thailand did I realize it was bigger than China alone. The Lunisolar New Year is celebrated in nearly all of eastern Asia, as it turns out, although the Chinese tend to take celebrations to a whole new level of crazy. Having survived my first Chinese New Year, I can attest to this.

2011 was the Year of the Rabbit, 2012 is the Year of the Dragon. What does this mean? Lots of babies, no joke. On numerous occasions in the past couple days I have had my players, translator, and team doctor tell me how big of a deal the Year of the Dragon is. Several of the players proudly proclaimed that they are “dragon babies.” Excuse me, what kind of babies? Apparently dragon babies are supposed to be the strongest, smartest, and luckiest, which means many parents will be aiming to start a family by no later than March or April. The Jiangsu Dragons have six dragon babies on the team (they counted). Too bad we aren’t lucky enough to be winning any games!

Out with the Rabbit, in with the Dragon.

So how did this once-every-twelve-year occasion go down? Well, during the weeks leading up to Chinese New Year not a whole lot seemed different. Perhaps there was slightly more red and yellow throughout the city (although there is always a bunch), mostly in the form of lanterns, but daily Nanjing life seemed largely the same. That is until Chinese New Year’s Eve.

By law, everybody in China has the entire week off. If an employer requires a staff member to work during the week they must pay the employee 3x their normal wage. So, starting the day before New Year’s Eve the city began to empty out as people journeyed home to be with their families. Interestingly, because of China’s huge population, this traveling period is considered the largest human migration in the world, and because China’s population continues to grow, each successive year has surpassed the previous in sheer volume of people. Some incredible photos demonstrating the scale of this and other celebrations around southeast Asia can be seen here.

Golden wishing tree - actually a fake tree, but incredibly real looking.

For many, particularly migrant workers, this is one of only two weeks during the year when they can  go home (along with the Mid-Autumn Festival in September). In Nanjing, what was left behind was an oddly serene city with wide open sidewalks and streets lacking honking horns and traffic. Of course, by mid-afternoon this peace and quiet was replaced by the Chinese’s one true love, and original creation – fireworks.

With Jenny in Thailand and some unexpected time off from basketball for me, I decided to wander around Nanjing to soak up all that New Year’s Eve had to offer. (Ironically, the eve of the Spring Festival was the coldest day I have spent in Nanjing.) Not sure where to head, I wandered to the closest cultural site I could think of, Fuzimiao Confucius Temple, in search of dragon dances and other cultural activities. What I found were closed-up shops, dangling red lanterns, small groups of freezing people, and boxes of fireworks exploding on the sidewalk, halting everyone in place until it was safe to walk again. It appears Chinese New Year is all about spending time with family, not being out and about. I’d like to think that there were traditional dragon dances in some corner of the city.

Freezing cold, I headed back to the apartment to enjoy a relaxing, quiet evening. The night turned out to be anything but quiet. From the Princess House, hearing fireworks is a daily occurrence, so much so that they largely go unnoticed. Usually they are set off for marriages, births, business openings, and other special occasions. Completely aware of the Chinese’s love of lighting explosives, I fully expected an excess of earth-shattering explosions for the New Year, especially around midnight. However, even with this knowledge, I was still shocked by what occurred.

During New Year’s Eve, the frequency of fireworks steadily increased throughout the day. By late afternoon their rumble could be heard ever 5-10 minutes. (I find the daytime fireworks quite comical since set to the backdrop of an overcast, grey sky the fireworks largely get lost high up in the air.) Once darkness came over the city, everything changed.

Starting around 6pm the fireworks began to ignite every 2-3 minutes. Caught off guard by this sudden outburst, I quickly headed outside to watch. Of course, locating fireworks in an urban setting turns out to be quite difficult since the sounds echo off all the tall buildings, making the exact direction hard to locate. Once I realized they were exploding from all corners of the city I quickly walked to the nearest historic site, the ancient Ming Dynasty City Wall, about 10 minutes away, hoping it would be the original launching point.

New Year's decorations, favorite crabapple snacks, and fireworks in the distance.

Turns out I was wrong. As I walked toward the wall I realized fireworks were being sparked right outside buildings, in apartment quads, street corners, and basically wherever else was convenient. Luckily for me though, the city wall provided one benefit – it gave me a better view of the cityscape. So, I stood alone on the top of a 600 year old wall, trying not to go deaf, and watched fireworks explode around me in the distance. By this point in the evening people were not only using the smaller fireworks, but the huge ones you would typically see during 4th of July celebrations. Pyrotechnics of all kinds can be purchased right outside the supermarkets, no special license required to set them off.

After about an hour, I headed back to the apartment. With every hour that passed the fury of fireworks continued to grow. By 11:30pm the explosions were unrelenting, with only 1-2 seconds between each boom in the distance. It literally sounded like Nanjing was being bombed! Not wanting to miss out on the increasing action, I headed back the Ming Dynasty City Wall. Perched on top, I watched as fireworks exploded in the distance and appeared from behind tall apartment buildings. The sky lit up with from all corners of the city while waves of sound rumbled and echoed in all directions. I could rotate 360-degrees and at any moment see many neon colors in the sky.

Seeing no end in sight for the celebrations, I headed back to the apartment around 1am. Amazingly I was able to fall asleep, even though they continued long into the night. I was then promptly awoken with a bang at 6am, when the fireworks resumed. The Chinese New Year lasts 15 days, ending with the Lantern Festival, and so far every night there have been sporadic outburst of explosions!

Below I have included some photos and videos I took with my small camera during the craziness of New Years Eve. As usual, the camera does not do justice to the experience, but while you’re watching the videos try to focus on the sounds in the background. Every crack, fizzle, boom, pop, bang you hear is not background noise, but fireworks echoing throughout the city like thunder.

(I could not figure out how to imbed video’s in the post, so you will have to click on the individual YouTube links to view the videos. Each one offers a slightly different view of the city, so I encourage you to watch them all. They are only about 30-45 seconds each. Enjoy!)

Video 1 - http://youtu.be/4D-pEDG2ovs  – near the Ming Dynasty City Wall.

Video 2 - http://youtu.be/zBKM6zyxlu0  – these fireworks seemed a bit too close for comfort so I started to quickly back away.

Video 3 - http://youtu.be/RNK3VOCLRGI  – this video is taken 15-feet from the entrance to our apartment. I had to sleep through this.

Video 4 - http://youtu.be/tCK-UFV1BYY  – street corner one block from the apartment.

Video 5 - http://youtu.be/LFmu5IdVIT0 - the main intersection one block from the apartment.

Video 6 - http://youtu.be/-8hXVLSpVcc  – fireworks being set off from the middle of an apartment quad. Watch carefully and you can see the firework embers actually bouncing off the buildings.

Video 7 - http://youtu.be/JBYfe8LfIIk  – fireworks directly next to large buildings.

Video 8 - http://youtu.be/BqlnTk8NeZM  – view from the top of the Ming Dynasty City Wall.

Video 9 - http://youtu.be/HnLFfWZiXQs  – teenagers playing with sparklers.

All the remains from a box of fireworks, one of the very few signs around the city not allowing fireworks, and burning fake money so it passes along to ancestors who have passed away.

Sparklers and the aftermath on sidewalks.

Ming Dynasty Wall at night and the paper mess of fireworks, left for the street sweepers to clean up.

** All photos can be clicked to view larger versions.

Reflection along the Ming City Wall.

ying & yang

Early morning tai chi & tennis practice.

Someone's home.

Day trip to Anhui- to pose as a kindergarten teacher at a new school opening. These little performers wanted some portraits.

Flowers & a baby I was forced to hold several times for photos.

Little did I know, I was going to be blasted in the face with confetti and sparklers on stage.

A dancer, little Communist soldiers.

Post-ceremony feast.

My new buds, Eagle & Kevin.

Breakfast at home with Ian. Look who's eating bacon!

Sidewalk art & a big feathered friend outside the kitchen window. Is it a quail?

Street eats.

Fish & ducks. A bank robber/murderer on the run. Thankfully, we live in the safest city in China (according to wikitravel.org).

Oh hey, represent the U.S. of A.

Snow on the windshield, blossoms on the tree.

Brrrr!

After discovering that the kitchen is closed for the night. No snackums? Beer me.

(click on pictures to make them bigger!)

Last year we celebrated in chilly Canada, overlooking the roaring waters of Niagara Falls. This year, I hopped on a high-speed train to Xuzhou and joined Ian in a swanky hotel overlooking Yunlong Lake and mountains in the distance. We kicked back in fluffy robes, watched cheesy movies, ordered Western food room service, and got Euro-American massages (with a fist-pounding Chinese twist). I look forward to my “late-twenties”, a chapter I feel will be full of joy, vivacity, and courage.

Make a wish! Some Western food (and beer) that hit the spot.

Fancy-pants hotel, glass sculptures and palm trees.

While I was away, the Princess House lost its upstairs tenants. My dear neighbors, colleagues, friends had a change of heart and decided not to return to Nanjing from their tropical vacation in southern Asia. They weighed their options and made the swift decision to take a chance on teaching at a new school for the spring semester. It’s very sad that they have moved on to greener pastures, especially since I didn’t get to say goodbye. I’m REALLY going to miss them: their helpful guidance, good laughs over tasty meals, and mutual venting sessions about the frustrations of our job. Their living above me gave me comfort and a sense of security; they taught me how to ride without training wheels in China. I’ll be mourning the loss of two of Nanjing’s finest, Erika and Stephen, but I applaud them for bravely following their hearts. Hopefully Ian and I will reconnect with them someday soon, someplace warm with clean air and friendly people.

E&S's hefty DVD library was left to me- wow! Christmas gift from them hanging perfectly in the dining room (cave art prints from western China).

In four weeks Ian returns to Nanjing, for good. The CBA season will have finished (for the Dragons) and he will go back to a normal life of living in ONE place, no more suitcases and hotels. I can barely control my excitement, counting down the days til I have my roommate and boyfriend back. We plan to go on some sightseeing trips around China over my 3-day weekends, put our health first with a combination of home cooking and daily exercise, take Chinese lessons as a couple with Wendy Wan, and weigh the many options for next year.

Over the past 3 months of solitude, I’ve been putting my touches on our Chinese apartment, little things here and there, that have made the place feel more like home. Having a warm and happy place to live makes all the difference for me, no matter where I am. Now, when I say warm I don’t mean the kind of warm I was used to in the USA. Thankfully, I have two reliable heaters (knock on wood) that pump out hot air, but they only heat two of the rooms: the bedroom and dining room. Walk down the hall to the bathroom and prepare to sit on a toilet seat chiseled from ice. The bathroom is easily 20 degrees colder than the bedroom, which makes for scalding showers and speedy dashes back and forth. It could be worse. I guess I should be thankful for having two heaters instead of just one, or none (like my students).

Here’s a sampling of some bright corners of our apartment, for those back home.

Pictures and postcards.

I finally bought an oven for the kitchen. My pretty new (working) TV, that took 3 months of nagging the school to replace.

Ian and Banjo. Map of the World.

Self portrait in the bookcase mirror. My new buddy, Wei Li the turtle.

(Some) familyyyyy.

Winter break is in full swing, Spring Festival (Chinese New Year) is right around the corner. Nanjing will soon be a ghost town for two weeks as hundreds of thousands of people migrate to their home towns to celebrate the family oriented festival. Before I leave for Thailand, Ian will get a brief respite from team travel and come home for part of the week. Yippee! On a side note, hilarious as it sounds, this Sunday I am being paid to pretend like I’m a foreign teacher at a kindergarten grand opening in Anhui, a neighboring city 2 hours north. Yes, the owner is paying me, because I am young and white, to stand, smile, and wave to the crowd. I’m not about to pass up an “opportunity” like this one. ha! Only in China…

a hazy shade of winter

January is here, the month of our birth and the end of the fall semester. I can hardly believe that I’m halfway done with my work contract, about to be rewarded with a generous six-week holiday away from my nearly seven hundred freshman students. It doesn’t seem real. Time is flying by and sooner than later Ian and I are going to have to decide our plans for next year. Gulp!

The smog hushes the city this morning. The familiar screaming of bike alarms and honking of car horns is less present as I stroll towards my roasty-toasty-bean destination. Although the quiet is a welcomed relief, it’s hard to ignore the nauseating sound of people clearing their throats to spit and the toxic exhaust fumes pumping into my flow of oxygen. The garbage man dumps out trash onto the ground to dig for buried treasure before shoveling it back into its greasy bin. No wonder the sidewalks are slippery and crusted with god-knows-what. I shake my head and realize it’s really easy to notice the things that are wrong with the picture in China, and anywhere different for that matter. I try my best to view everything in a positive light, but there are just some days when I can’t help but wonder if I’m putting myself one step closer to lung cancer.

This semester was truly a learning experience. Never before have I had a job that requires so little of my time and effort, allotting me endless hours of free time to read, wander, do what I please. I could have easily taken a second job, but I am happy with my decision to take advantage of the freedom because chances are I will never have the luxury again. With Ian on the road, I lived by myself in an adorable apartment (that I have since made much more my own), greeted the day with whatever felt right (watch movies, explore with my camera, practice karaoke in the shower, study Chinese), and rekindled my love of books. Yes, I am a reading machine these days, gobbling up popular novels such as: An American Childhood, Little Bee, The Red Tent, Teach Like Your Hair’s on Fire. This past semester was full of major “me” time. I learned, I lounged, and I longed for my roommate to return from the corners of the country.

Still on my coffee-quest, it’s clear that I am living on the other side of the globe. Everything is different. I grew up in a city with about a 25% diversity at the time. There were only a handful of Asian American students in my grade, a couple African American kids, a scattering of Latin Americans. Of all my childhood friends I never really had a pal of minority. We were a bunch of white kids born and raised to go to college with other white kids, by nature of location. At some point there was a shift in my perspective and I dreamt of traveling, the freedom and knowledge that comes with plopping yourself in a foreign place. My parents planned family vacations (spring break in Costa Rica, NYC for Memorial Day, an epic summer cross-country voyage in our green mini van we named BOB (Bucket of Bolts)) and encouraged me to try new things. I signed up for a volunteer trip to Guatemala, a three-week student ambassador trip to Europe, and in college I studied abroad in Italy. These trips were baby steps, tempting me to make a decision (I didn’t know about then) that I would live and work abroad, in a distant and non-English speaking country no less. Looking around at the scenery of my morning stroll I just have to smile and hope that I can give my children the opportunities that my parents gave me, growing up as a curious girl in Northern Virginia. Now, I’m the minority!

My students come from low-income to middle-class families, most of them from the surrounding Jiangsu province. That’s about all I know about their lives. Currently reading Peter Hessler’s debut novel, River Town, in which he served two years of the Peace Corps as an English teacher in a small town along the Yangtze, I begin to regret not learning more about my students from the get-go. I came to this college as a naïve ESL teacher with minimum training, little information, and hopeful optimism. At first it was intimidating in the classroom. Never in my life had I been watched more closely, my every movement/ mannerism evaluated, my laugh mocked on occasion. I tried not to take it personally. Later I would realize that the students’ behavior was not meant to belittle me, it was purely a reflection of their lack of exposure to diversity. Chances are I was the first “foreigner” (whatever “foreigner” means) that they’ve encountered and their reaction was based off of immature curiosity. We were all naïve.

inside room 1215. no heat, no technology.

chalk dust

By living a good 55-minute bus commute away from the university, I miss out on experiencing the daily ebb and flow of life on campus. Hessler lived in a faculty apartment a stones throw away from his classroom. He writes about being woken by loudspeakers and alarms sounding throughout campus, the students rising at 6am to complete their morning run followed by cleaning and maintaining of the classrooms before breakfast. I do know that my students, as part of their military training, rise and shine at the same time to run in camo garb. Does that explain why some of them can hardly stay awake in class? Walk down the hall to peek in other classrooms and you’ll see students sleeping or with heads down, fidgeting on “hidden” cellphones. (Again, I’m not taking it personally in my room.) It’s easy to imagine how different the life of an American university student is, considering when I was in college I scheduled my classes for the afternoon so that I could sleep-in til about lunchtime. Talk about feeling spoiled and lazy. My students’ jaws drop when I tell them that classes in American universities are coed and that students sometimes only have two or three classes a day, their choice.

In light of cultural differences, I was given my own office this semester while the Chinese teachers share offices 5 or 6 to a room. Is this the school’s way of avoiding the foreign staff like the plague or is this because they think “we” are used to having our own space? I have to lean towards reason #1. Having my own lonely office I hardly had contact with any other faculty. My “foreign expert” expertise was never needed, no one knocked on my office door seeking my American knowledge. The next time I’ll see my boss will most likely be at the farewell banquet. I came to school, taught my classes, ate lunch, then rode the subway an hour back to Baixia. I never imagined I’d be so isolated in China.

inside my office, family pictures and memories

a heated room is a luxury on campus

Walking past the most foul-smelling canal, past a group of restaurant servers standing in uniform rows awaiting their morning lecture in the cold, I eagerly arrive at the coffee spot feeling a slight urge to cough or spit. Wait a minute. The shop’s not open? But it’s nearly nine in the morning! Apparently Starbucks doesn’t open until ten in my neighborhood. What a buzz kill. Clearly the Chinese don’t understand the reason behind coffee. I stand in the clouded morning sun and watch a businessman practice tai chi alone outside the building, wondering if this is his way of relieving a mutual anxiety over lack of lattes.

In the classroom, my students slowly began to adapt to my teaching methods, a far cry from the rote-memorization and book work they are used to. Although they are conditioned to be painfully shy, in my Oral English classroom I tried to shake the conception that the teacher is god and all should sheepishly obey. While it’s easy to forget Chinese culture, laugh at their priceless English names, smile at their childlike shyness, or dismiss them as simple young people from the countryside, there has to be more to teaching than that. My aim is to educate this giant bunch of teens about my culture in exchange for theirs (including why they don’t serve caffeinated beverages in the morning). The first step to learning a new language, for me, is to feel comfortable and confident. I hope that by the end of the year these guys will have some of that feeling, maybe even raise their hand by choice, not force.

In a few weeks, conveniently over Chinese New Year, I travel to Thailand to volunteer teaching English to little ones at a Buddhist monastery. I’ll be in Ayutthaya for two weeks with hopefully some free time to wander off with my camera and soak up tropical sunshine on my skin. Six weeks of vacation is a long time so I figured what better way to ward off boredom and oversleeping than to travel and “work” together. When I return from my adventure my roommate will be done with the basketball season and ready to come home. Woo hoo! Next semester is going to be a welcomed change from the last, a new chapter with my number-one travel buddy and a fresh outlook on lessons in Room 1215.

Stay tuned & Happy New Year!

Currently, at the mid-point of the 2011-2012 season, the Dragons are sitting dead last. Our record stands at 4-13. I did some research and in the past couple seasons the 8^th and final team to qualify for the playoffs usually had no more than 15-17 losses. While I am trying to remain optimistic, it is obvious that our chances of making the playoffs are very slim. If the season was 82 games like the NBA there would still be plenty of time to right the ship, but with only 32 games a CBA team can dig itself into a deep hole with early losses, one that’s tough to climb out of. So how does a 4^th place team end up dropping to last place the following year with essentially the same domestic team members? Here are my theories:

Dragons action shots (left in white, middle in white, right in blue)

If I had to pick only one reason, this would be it: the team spent way too much time in the summer and early fall playing pointless exhibition games. Sure, the players got a lot of practice, but the team also spent endless weeks traveling to random places playing low-level teams which, quite frankly, were a joke. Final scores of some exhibition games were often 100-40!  Some teams had teenage players while others were pudgy, middle-aged men. Why bother, right? If by some chance the games were close (we did play a few CBA exhibition games), the coaches played all the older veteran players to make sure we won (i.e. more wear and tear on their bodies) rather than ignoring the final score and allowing the younger players to develop.

Long before the season began I had concerns about the time wasted on these games. My translator told me that the team played more exhibition games this year than the previous year, but why? In my mind, this time could have been better spent working on many aspects of the game, like defense.

Additionally, this obsession with off-season games made my job a nightmare. While in Nanjing, the team had access to a quality weight room which allowed me to properly train the athletes. However, after seeing several weeks of encouraging strength gains the team announced that we would be traveling for 2 weeks, which for me meant less weight training sessions and also no access to proper facilities. This eraser-effect happened several times before the season started. Two steps forward, one and a half steps back. Before I understood how the team operated I spent hours writing training cycles, dwelling on the details, which incrementally challenged the athletes week-by-week. But, these exhibition game trips threw a major wrench in my programs.

I did all that I could with the team when traveling, every push-up variation known to man, but at some point you need access to weights. In an effort to cling to the players’ strength, we have done workouts in hotel rooms, hotel hallways, and even the small square space outside hotel elevators. Still, when an athlete can squat well over 300 lbs, body weight lunges aren’t exactly challenging. Thankfully I brought about two dozen heavy-duty exercise bands from the U.S. which have given me some more options for planning workouts.

players doing Standing Band Rows

From what I gather, the team was paid by sponsors (rich businessmen) to play these exhibition games in the summer, so maybe the team needed the money. Like I even have to mention, you know what else rakes in the dough? Ticket sales to playoff games and championships!

Anyway, there is also quite a lot happening during the season which I feel is contributing to our current struggles:

Every CBA team is allowed to have two foreign players who are not from China. The two foreign players are typically from the U.S. who were drafted into the NBA out of college, but only lasted a couple of years before being bounced out for a variety of reasons. The CBA also gets some veteran NBA players who are no longer good enough to score quality playing time in the NBA, so they choose to play in China. For basketball fans, Stephon Marbury is the biggest NBA veteran and is currently playing his 3^rd season. In the CBA it is not uncommon for a team to decide that a certain foreign player is not a good fit and replace them with another before the season ends. Many teams have done this in the past; the CBA has a reputation for having a quick trigger finger when it comes to foreign talent.

Dan Gadzuric, Mardy Collins (both played 4-6 weeks for the Jiangsu Dragons)

Jackson Vroman, Marcus Williams (both currently on the team)

The Dragons are currently on their 3^rd and 4^th foreign players this season. The first two, one a very tall athletic NBA veteran and the other a former NBA guard who created many match-up problems because of his height compared to Chinese guards, were viewed as a poor fit. (Coincidentally, we have not yet won without them.) They were replaced by two other players, both who spent about 2 years each in the NBA. This all happened by about the 12^thgame of the season. So by the 13^th game the team had at least four different starting line-ups, probably more. It’s tough to develop any sort of team chemistry in that situation. To tops things off, when the newest players did not produce wins, the head coach was fired (4 coaches in the league have already been fired this season). Interesting enough, the new coach is not exactly “new”. Here are the last four coaches of the Jiangsu Dragons:

1. Coach Xu
2. Coach Hu
3. Coach Xu (seen him before)
4. Coach Hu (present coach, seen him before)

Xu Qiang & Hu Weidong

Needless to say the “new” coach hasn’t turned the team around yet. Maybe the Dragons are not used to losing, so they do not know how to react, but I have a different opinion. I feel this is reflection of their off-season and in-season approach. Rather than first blaming the foreign talent for lack of success, I feel they should have worried more about the X’s & O’s of their defense, which is pretty bad. During most games we give up around 100 points to the other team as it appears the CBA does not like to play hard-nosed defense. The Dragons do not spend much time tactically preparing for the other team. They will walk through the plays that their opponent runs, but they rarely simulate anything at full speed, or mimic the tendencies of an opposing team’s star player. In addition, they never harp on the fundamental details of defense, such as how to defend a screen, which drives the NBA players crazy.

For example, this morning our team spent probably about 2/3 of the practice running 3-man weave variations (a simple drill used mostly for a warm-up) and shooting jump shots. One of the NBA guys said today, “If you want to become an expert at history you don’t just write, ‘George Washington was the first president’ over and over repeatedly. You got to study the finer details.” There is little attention to the components of the game. I’m not sure if this is because they have a “more is better” approach, thinking more shooting will make us better, or because they simply were never taught the finer elements to winning the sport. Often the two NBA players will take other teammates aside and show them how to set a quality screen or how to cut to the basket in certain circumstances.

The following are observations through my eyes about the CBA and the way it operates during the season, for better or for worse:

The League – The CBA is a league rich in talent, however there are glaring issues that I believe are slowing its growth. Many of the teams are not in the biggest cities, but rather second or third tier cities. Since China has a ton of people, this isn’t a huge problem, but it simply does not make sense. The bigger the city, the more exposure, the more the league can grow, right? Additionally many arenas seem to be tucked into remote corners of cities making them difficult to access. The Dragons arena in Nanjing is nearly impossible to get to from downtown. It’s about a 30-45 minute cab ride to the edge of the city (assuming the driver even knows how to get there). No buses and no metro reach it.

The Fans – Some arenas have very loud, rowdy fans, which is great, but often times fans only cheer for dunks. Also, many arenas are only half full. Given that the stadiums aren’t terribly big (they can hold about a couple thousand people) it’s strange that a country of 1.4 billion supposedly “basketball obsessed” people can’t fill them. Of course being in last place, maybe the Dragons just aren’t drawing crowds, but I think there is more to it than that. Fans never wear team colors. Even though CBA apparel isn’t sold (I haven’t seen anywhere that sells jerseys or hats), you would think people would still put on red, green, and blue shirts to support their favorite team. The fans are a sea of black winter coats, well, except the cheerleaders showing off their mid-drifts in sequined costumes.

The Team – From what I’ve learned thus far my team might be the most “old school” team in the league. The Dragons have no real home. We have two “home” arenas in completely different cities, but no permanent residence in our city. When the team goes on the road, we have to pack up our entire hotel room while other CBA teams rent rooms in hotels for the entire season so the players’ have their own personal space. (The fact that “home” means living in a hotel is also super strange, but that is league-wide.) Because of this living situation, no one ever really sees their family or friends. It’s just teammates 24/7.

The Chinese Players – The CBA is full of homegrown talent. They can do everything well, but when watching the Chinese players during a live game with foreign players in the mix the finer details of basketball begin to emerge. The foreign talent notices passing opportunities that the Chinese players do not, often resulting in a wide open lay-up turning into the ball flying out-of-bounds because a player wasn’t looking. The foreign players seem to have far better court awareness and are always looking for the easiest way to score, while the Chinese players seem to be going through the motions of the play that was called.

It’s tough to explain exactly the difference, but it often appears that the action is moving slower for the foreign players. My guess is that most of the American players spent a lot of time perfecting their game with new people in informal settings, like at camp or on the playground. Conversely, the Chinese players have been playing with the same group of guys since they were teens; their basketball style is much more structured. From a defensive perspective, the Chinese players simply don’t play hard defense, which is true across the league. Good defense is like watching five rabid animals run around trying to swarm and suffocate their opponents. The CBA defense is nothing like that. In the spirit of the sport, there is very little passion during games from the players (other than complaining every time a foul is called on them.) I am often the only one on the bench cheering.

Dragons' top players: Hu XueFeng (G), Yi Li (F/G)

The Foreign Players – While I can only speak for the 4 that I have encountered so far, most are mainly here because the CBA pays good money compared to other leagues around the world. None of the players really show an interest in the culture, none learn their teammates’ names, none take great interest in trying the food (most have western-ish food delivered to their room in privacy), none take the coaching too seriously, none venture out of their rooms (instead they sleep, Tweet, and play video games on their PlayStation) and I can guarantee all are gone the day after the season ends. They are all nice guys, but they don’ t seem thrilled at the opportunity of being in China and what the country has to offer.

The Refereeing – Before the CBA season started the league was harping on how the refereeing would be more strict this year (in my opinion, as fall out from the Georgetown fight during the summer which only fueled the fire that Chinese basketball players like to fight). In the first few games of the season I thought the referees did a great job and I was impressed. However, as of late, the refereeing has turned to the worst. Having refereed intramural basketball games in college myself, I can appreciate how hard it is, but one of the most important parts of the job is being consistent. CBA refs allow the game to be over-physical in the first half. When the game borders on getting out of control, the refs get worried and start calling everything which suddenly makes a player pick up 3 fouls in 5 minutes, effectively stapling him to the bench until the 4^th quarter. The refs also make blatant “make-up” calls. When a hard foul goes uncalled and a team starts screaming at a ref, he will often call a tiny, barely there foul the next time down the court. They are easily intimidated and rarely call technical fouls.

In the status-driven world of professional basketball, it’s well-known that the refs are paid money, given nice food/alcohol, and gifts by owners of the home teams. I had heard rumors of this, and at first I thought there was no way it could be true, but I have since read about it on several occasions. Still resistant to the idea, I finally bought in when during one away game we had 3 players foul-out, while the home team had nobody on the team with more than 3 fouls.

CBA referees

The Arenas – Arenas are never heated during practices (except for the cities way up north) and the games are semi-heated. Despite the fact, outside doors are often left wide-open creating an uncomfortably cold draft for the players sitting on the bench. There’s no better way to catch a cold then to start sweating heavily in a frigid arena during practice. To make matters worse, my “old school” team makes the players wear only tank tops and shorts because they claim extra layers of clothing will negatively effect their shooting technique. Give me a break. At any given time, half our team seems to have a cold. I wonder why.

The Dragons are half-way there, literally living on a prayer. I’m practically along for the ride, silently hoping for a miracle turn-around. C’mon 8th place…

For me, Christmas is not a time nor a season, but a state of mind.            May you cherish the peaceful time together with those you love, in body & in spirit, sharing warmth, laughter, and big dreams for the new year.

ha!

homemade muffins, imported vino, Santa hats

Christmas decorations sent from NJ. Thank you Mama Lockwood!

my favorite jolly baozi (steamed bun) man & a delicious cai (vegetable) bun

the baozi team posing for a portrait

As of late, I’ve been trying out more of the local delicacies, slowly conquering my hesitation towards the often questionable sanitation standards of food preparation in China. At the market, half of the fruits and vegetables are like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I’m curious how they taste. I want to try a bite, but the angel on my shoulder says to think twice. Growing up in American supermarkets, I was conditioned to choose the vegetables displayed under gleaming lights and wrapped in cellophane because they were the “clean” and healthy choices. In reality, if the label does not clearly say “Organic” you can never be sure the story of the head of lettuce. Americans are pros at not questioning the nutritional content of what they consume. Thankfully, I have many people in my life who have helped to shine light on the fact that it does matter what you eat and where the food comes from; I strive to make healthy choices and care about what I put in my body, no matter where I am in the world.

I know next to nothing about the agricultural system of China. From the school bus window, I see crops growing in muddy nooks near construction sites, climbing up mounds of dirt near parched canals, and shaded by freeway bridges. Are these greens for individual families or for sale at the market? I am frequently reluctant to grab a handful of leafy veggies tied together for sale when I could have sworn I saw something similar growing alongside the 5-lane highway. Maybe the best way to navigate the culinary world of a foreign country is to not ask questions and just go with your gut, your instinct and your belly. I try my best to keep my diet fresh and colorful. So far, I am A-ok healthy and happily indulgent in Chinese flavors!

Although I still don’t speak the language (currently taking lessons), I have learned some helpful ways to get around the neighborhood successfully. Did you know that the way we count on our hands differs around the world? In China, you can count from 1-9 using one hand. There’s always a good chance that I won’t understand what price a vendor says when I buy a bushel of bananas (the Chinese language is a fast one) so I pull out the sign language to communicate. I use my hands a lot in the classroom too, “Students, you have 10 minutes to practice the dialogue with your group… ready, go!”

try counting to ten the Chinese way!

Survival Chinese is my friend. I know how to say “too expensive”, “I want”, “I don’t want”, “this one”, “good”, etc. However, bargaining is not. I hear feisty women at the market stomping their feet, hollering at the top of their lungs with scowled brows, fighting to get the best price on dried mushrooms. Sometimes there is even physical contact: hand slapping and body shoving in disagreement. I try to get the price lowered once or twice and then I’m satisfied. I mean, it’s hard to bargain down a bag of green beans that cost 30 cents!

I’m becoming accustomed to using chopsticks instead of a fork, drinking yogurt through a straw instead of scooping it with a spoon, beverages being served hot or at room temperature in the winter (hot o.j., anyone?), and anticipating bones and fat still attached to hunks of meat in local dishes. Yes, those of you who know me well, I have broken my 6 year vow of vegetarianism. (gulp!) It was a survival decision. Although I have an over-sized heart when it comes to the humane treatment of animals, a heart that aches in my throat when I walk by a cage full of dirty and crowded creatures about to be placed on the menu at the local restaurant, I am just trying to live. Ian laughs at me when I look down at my plate of chicken and noodles and say, “Just tryin’ to live. Just tryin’ to survive.” The last thing I want is to shrivel up to nothing during my time in China because I didn’t get my protein. We’ll see what happens when we leave the country, maybe I’ll return to my old ways or maybe I’ll make Ian a happy man and cook chicken pot pies or lamb roast for dinner. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it…

curbside lunch spread & stir fry in action

beautiful fruit/veggie & canine(!) hanging outside a restaurant (sorry friends, nothing is censored in China)

Speaking of hungry friends, Mama Cat has found a new favorite place to rest…on our front stoop. As the temperature is dropping down into the 40s, she has become extra talkative and even more present. Sometimes I wonder if she’s a con-artist cat, who meows and looks cute to everyone who lives on campus in order to score leftovers from lunch and dinner. Or maybe she’s put the puzzle pieces together in her little cat-head that the laowai teachers will undoubtedly cave and feed her if she just stays put. It’s probably a bit of both. These days, every time I walk out my door I see (and hear) this.

"feed me Whiskas!"

Even the smallest of creatures are doing the same thing, just tryin’ to live, tryin’ to survive the frigid winter. I have 3 more weeks of teaching before a hefty winter break when I hope to take my new oven for a spin in the kitchen, as well as voyage to a tropical climate in a peaceful part of Eastern Asia. Stay tuned & bon appetit!

Most Surprising

1. Chinese people have a healthy fear of the cold (they bundle up from head to toe beginning in early Fall) yet frequently leave windows and doors wide open.
2. Mattresses are hard as a rock! (Ian loves them. I miss my feather-top.)
3. There exists a “not my problem” attitude in China. If you have a question or concern it is common to be passed from one person to the next until you get an answer or just give up. It’s also called “passing the ball”.
4. Variations of the same foods are served at every meal of the day: vegetables, meat, rice, soup. Chinese people love Chinese food. (Chicken feet for breakfast, anyone?)
5. Any amount of junk (i.e. the Mount Everest of styrofoam) is strapped atop bicycle carts if it means only one trip has to be taken.
6. Part of a person’s status is dictated by the type of cell phone they sport. (Ian’s colleague just spent an entire month’s salary on the new iPhone 4S.)
7. Packaged food is packaged inside a package, inside a package, inside a package.
8. The package is then thrown on the floor. Littering is not penalized in China because there are hundreds of employed street sweepers who need things to sweep up.
9. Street sweepers sweep the sidewalk, the road, and the highway with a handmade broom. They sweep leaves, puddles, dog poo, garbage, and tractor-trailer dust, dressed in layers (including face masks) which only show their eyes.
10. Babies waddle around with split-pants exposing their what-is-usually-hidden-by-a-diaper. When they feel the need to relieve themself they pop a squat. At times it’s in the middle of the sidewalk, shopping mall, or subway aisle. (“not my problem!” say the parents.)

Most Hilarious

1. Often times, if a Chinese person can see that we don’t understand what they are saying they repeat themself over and over, slowly raising the volume of their voice, or take out paper and begin writing Chinese characters to explain. Clearly they don’t realize that we only speak English!
2. Justin Bieber is not only adored by 12-year-old girls. I catch my male students humming some of his top-40 hits, obviously infected by the Bieber Fever and proud of it. (I have at least 10 “Justin”s in my classes.)
3. Ian’s translator suffers from neck pain and hasn’t made the connection to the fact that he stares down at his cell phone for 75% percent of the day, checking Weibo (the Chinese “Twitter”).
4. Old ladies who walk around slapping their body, pounding their limbs, stomping backwards, and swinging their arms around like a chimpanzee to get blood-flow.
5. Watching someone try to spread butter on a piece of bread with chopsticks, the slice ending up looking like a piece of swiss cheese.
6. Young men who get their hair colored, permed, and set in a similar style to American grandmothers.
7. Dogs that balance below their owner’s feet on a motorbike, bark at passing cars, and hop off and on at traffic lights. They hold on, the wind blowing in their ears, as the motorbike zips in and out of traffic.
8. Getting a ‘bow to the ribs by a 5 -foot grandma on the way into the bus. (Don’t get in the way of little Chinese women!)
9. Most phone conversations consist of about 4 words repeated in different patterns: “Wei?” (can you hear me?), “Hao”(good), “Dui” (ok/yes), “Ah” (acknowledgement word). So, to our ears, one side of the dialogue goes something like this: “Wei? Hao hao hao. Ah ah. Dui. Hao hao. Ah ah ah. Dui dui dui. Ah.”
10. People walk around town in their pajamas during the day as if they rolled out of bed, slid on their Mickey Mouse slippers, and decided to run some errands.

speaking of funny sights, it appears that Santa had enough of pre-Christmas China... (from Ian's hotel window)

Most Missed From Home

1. Freshly brewed coffee. Nescafe instant java just ain’t cuttin’ it.
2. Toilet paper in public restrooms. In China, squat potties do not come supplied with t.p.; you must remember to bring your own or else you’re stranded.
3. Having access to a clothes dryer. I’m all for conserving energy, but pulling on crunchy jeans and wrinkled shirts is not the best way to start the day.
4. Peanut M&Ms…and cheese.
5. Driving. The feeling of freedom behind the wheel is hard to match; cruising down the scenic road to your favorite tune is simply All-American.
6. Schedules in advance. My school is yet to inform me when winter break begins & ends. Ian’s team gave him the CBA season schedule a few weeks before it began. It’s almost impossible to plan ahead for vacation.
7. Sunday afternoon football, snack(ums), and good company.
8. Drinking water straight from the tap. I wouldn’t dare drink from the faucet in China, instead we order filtered water in giant jugs.
9. A stove. Electric hot plates are the method of choice in China however, it’s a lot more challenging to cook for two with just one burner.
10. FAMILY! (enough said.)

pumpkin soup at our favorite foreign restaurant & hot cocoa and pirated DVDs on a chilly day