she gleans.

"how to find the best jeans for your butt" & other things you learn in english class

Last week in class I assigned a midterm evaluation - a process, or "how to" presentation, in pairs. Students can choose whatever - anything! - they want to teach the class. So long as they're speaking English in front of the class for at least five minutes.

I created an example presentation. My topic: How to become a master of text messaging.

Also introduced: b/f & g/f, btw, ppl, sec, omg!, ttyl, w/o, xoxo, thx, cya, asap & wtf! (the last one only because I knew I could get away with it. hehe. oops.) 

Their assignment for the rest of class that day was to compose a text message to me, telling me something about their weekends, using as many of the "abbreeves" as they could. They were to send the message during class time (just acknowledging what every single student and teacher since, like, nineteen ninety-TWO knows but ignores that goes on in the back of class, under a desk, in laps, etc)

I was surprised that the message seemed to reach all classes except for Thursday's. I consider my Thursday class (Secretary English 091. Yup, you read it right. Their course of study is aimed at making them the best possible bilingual secretaries this country could ask for) to be the brightest, so I'm still not so sure how they got so confused at the instructions. The result? I received a minimum of ten messages during class that had only one abbreviation and nothing else. At least seven said "xoxo" (they really liked that one). One simply said "thx."

I giggled to myself and shook my head throughout class while receiving these messages. After all, miscommunication is inevitable in our relationship. It's practically written in the job description. I've gotten frustrated in the past about such problems (ok, they've been slightly more severe than this funny one) but have learned not to anymore. Eight times out of ten, they're not being lazy or punky, they just legitimately didn't understand me, and how can I fault them for that?

No big deal, their English isn't going to suffer because they failed to send their crazy Western teacher a little text message. Can't win them all, right?

Well, I should have known to expect more from this class. All weekend, and even up through this (Monday) morning, I have received a constant stream of text messages with news from their weekends.

For example:

I'm Elaine, I think too much ppl will go shopping at weekend . I don't like crowed.But idk where to go. So i will sleep for a day ,hahahaha! Omg! I'm so lazy .. --!

&

This weekend I will go to bbq with my bf,haha btw,Iwant to tell U :I like going to your class! idk why.xoxo U, cya! I am Joan.

&

Teacher
    I am Nancy Do u have a free time on this weekend we want to bbq Btw I love cya smile u smile make me feel happy

&

Dear teacher,
 How do you do? My English name is Abe. I have a dream all the time.But I don't know how to come ture my dream. My dream is to eat and travel around the worled. I like eating very much. Do you have the same interests? I want to eat all the food on the world. When I eat, I am very happy. And the feel is very cool. But I think if I have a boyfriend to company with me, that's very good. By the way , I want to go to your America , because I have never gone.
    Thanks to see my message.

OH BOY! How about those gems? And then, there's dear Helen (her favorite English word is "good," because her high school English teacher never said it to her):

She seems to have taken the creative license to create her own abbreviations. Hey, I ain't knockin' it, I'm not one to discourage creativity. I mean, I was western-educated, was I not?

And today Business English 091 had their second round of presentations, beginning with Susan and Jane who talked us through How to find the best jeans for your butt. It is a shame ("what a pity!" as they would say here) that they don't listen to each other speaking English. Because I can tell you that 45 of the 46 audience members really missed out on some great fashion tips - not to mention the entertainment factor. I shrieked with surprised delight at statements such as "be sure not to select a stiff denim, otherwise the pant will flatten your butt like a pancake" & another tip, which promised to maximize the amount of "junk in your trunk," while their classmates cluelessly looked back at me to see what I was giggling about.

Oh, and Lucy and Gal's interactive presentation of How to make a facial mask from milk, banana and honey really did leave the backs of my hands feeling silky smooth. Though upon closer inspection, I don't think they appear any whiter like they promised...

penthouse etymology lessons

Last night we had a nutty professor for dinner company. Lin Qiang stopped K on campus last week; the same day, not two hours later, he appeared to be waiting for signs of other foreign life and seemed to be quite excited when he saw me approaching.

It is always a little disconcerting when someone takes great interest in you based solely on your obvious non-Chineseness, and we have had some interesting exchanges and interactions with such people during our time here. Luckily, Lin Qiang proved to be completely harmless. And a wealth of kooky knowledge.

Lin Qiang is a calligraphy teacher at the middle school just down the road from our campus. He graduated from Nanjing Normal University two years ago with a Master's in calligraphy. He had many opportunities to converse with foreigners while living in Nanjing. It is a shame there aren't more foreigners in Huai'an, and that he didn't meet us sooner, he says, because he doesn't have the opportunity to practice his English here. He very much wants to travel "to Americk" but believes his English is not yet good enough.

He came bearing gifts: a bag of apples and pears, a book about Chinese calligraphy, a Chinese calligraphy pen, and Chinese ink.

To the eyes of a Westerner, Chinese characters appear complicated and unintelligible. If you are interested in making sense of this fantastic pictographic writing system, please do invite Lin Qiang to your home for dinner. He will happily explain the origin of any character you might be curious about.

In my introductory Chinese language course in college my professor asked us to choose Chinese names. I requested Lin Qiang first write my chosen name: 张月, ZhāngYuè. Zhāng is a common family name; Yuè means moon. After recovering from the initial shock that I had a Chinese name, Lin Qiang quickly brushed out the characters. He then asked K what her Chinese name is - she told him he didn't have one. This exchange has happened with almost every Chinese person we meet, and their reaction is always the same: "Ok, maybe I can give you a Chinese name." Lin Qiang's choice was 张亮, ZhāngLiàng. Turns out, a Chinese person will not say "Oh, I see the 月 in the sky," they need to say "Oh, I see the 月亮 in the sky." 亮 means bright.

[We will see if K keeps this name, she has promptly rejected every other Chinese name given to her.]

, mù, wood. See the branches, and the roots? This is the ancient Chinese script (found on oracle bones).

Seal script.

And now, the modern character (traditional. PRC mainland now uses simplified script; Taiwan and Hong Kong use traditional characters):

木 means wood. One tree.
林 means woods. Two trees.
森 means forest. Three trees.
森林. Also forest. Many many trees.

See? It's simple. And, like most things, very logical once you delve into the history. When you look at the big picture.

Rì, sun. Also used for day and date.
[oracle bone script, seal script, clerical script, semi-cursive script, cursive script, modern script]

Do you know this character? Yuè - my name - moon. Also used for month.

So, today is 4月18日.

果汁, guǒzhī, juice. The first character, 果, is a combination of

木 & 日. See it? Fruit grows on trees, with the help of the sun. Get it?

Our teacher possessed, from my own teaching experience, two essential qualities: energy and a sense of humor. The lesson was interactive and engaging. Unfortunately, his pupils had stayed up too late the night before and grew tired as the lesson went on. He forged on, though, through an introduction of how to mix the ink with water, how to prepare the brush for writing, and how to hold the pen - NOT like a regular pen. You must hold a Chinese pen differently, so your wrist is free to sweep and swoop.

Which do you prefer, the line of a regular pen or the line of a Chinese pen? The answer, of course, is obvious. Do you prefer a robot to a regular man? Of course not. A robot's movement is not fluid; he is a machine. A man's movement is fluid; more artistic. "Lovely." The regular pen can only draw a straight, thin line. But a Chinese pen can move from thick to thin and back to thick. "I think English calligraphy cannot be very interesting." There are, after all, only two ways Lin Qiang could think of to write the letter D. But you can write a single Chinese character in an infinite number of ways. Each style of calligraphy is different, and each calligrapher has his own style. No two people will write Chinese calligraphy the same way.

I remembered a conversation I had with a dear friend before coming to China. She wondered whether Chinese had different fonts. It didn't seem probable to us in that moment that you could write Chinese characters many different ways. They're much too chicken-scratchy.

Shelly and Lin Qiang would enjoy talking to each other, I think.

Lin Qiang noticed his pupil's drooping eyes and realized he was losing his crowd. Standing up, he clapped his hands. "OK! Our class is over!" And beamed down at our sleepy heads. He must be a great middle school teacher. The perfect goofy art instructor.

Lin Qiang's dream is to find a job at a University in "Americk" teaching Chinese calligraphy. Do you think it is possible to find a job? We told him yes, and that we would try to help him look. Chinese is growing steadily more popular in US schools, and I imagine a school with a blossoming Chinese program would love to have a clever, engaging and witty professor to teach this ancient art.

Incidentally, 宣传 xuānchuán is Chinese for propaganda. And publicity. There is no distinction between the two meanings. (This tidbit found this morning in my reading of Oracle Bones by Peter Hessler)

dear mum & dad,

Your youngest child graduated from college last year; it must have been strange and surreal for you. Then, both of your daughters (your only children! so very far away from you!) moved halfway across the world to some nowhere little town to do something they felt quite unsure about.

So now, the question I'd propose is this: how would you feel about your youngest child moving this ball

or, this bean

into your (un-landscaped, mind you!!) back yard? And then, moves herself into it? The better to take the next step in planning out her "grand life path;" or better - deciding if she has one.

Too mod and shapely for your 1911 (or is it '12?) architectural aesthetic? Ok. She'd just as soon opt for a more classic option...

[image courtesy nytimes]

Mom, if it looks silvery and "so '30s!" don't forget: vintage is in right now.

Not that your beautifully refurbished (favorite detail: the interior paint, of course!) house doesn't have the space to tuck her way somewhere. It's just that this daughter has a certain Donahue-stubborn predilection towards some amount of independence.

Thanks to Design Milk::Architecture and the looming end of contract to my first real life job for inspiring this post.

the latest take on the small house movement

 

The portable fincube, designed with the ever-so-popular concept of sustainability in mind.

And, just for fun, while we're posting about trendy things:

1-06 Baby Birch

喂 acceptable everywhere

On Friday evening, after a long hard week of work (pi-shaw!!), my other half for the year and I headed downtown to swipe in on a pass to the city gym I recently received as a birthday gift.

The front desk girls giggled awkwardly at the sight of us, but welcomed us anyway and showed us to the locker room and into the small yoga room. We were a bit late, so were able to sneak in the back without disturbing the yogic "concentration" too much.

In quotes because, during the thirty minute class (we might have gotten the time wrong...or, as k speculated: "I bet he [our instructor] has a hot date") I had to stop and ponder whether I was indeed in the right place...is this a yoga class, or an office call center? I have read/been told/reminded myself time and time again that cell phone culture in China is much different than what we're used to (it is the only cultural difference we struggle with here. Everything else is exactly the same, right?!?) - that it is perfectly acceptable to answer a phone call anywhere, at any time.

[Insert Exhibit A: my own cell phone, purchased at the supermarket downtown. It has more bells and whistles than any phone I've ever owned (camera - I know, this is big time, people - , video recorder, can convert into a web cam when plugged into a computer, 4Gs of memory, plays movies/mp3s, internet access which means QQ, etc etc etc). The brand is Cayon, which I am informed time and time again by Chinese tall and small "is not a famous brand" which means I am not entitled to use the latest and most deluxe features available. The phone has five six "user profiles," one of which is called conference mode. All sounds are silenced when this mode is selected, except incoming calls which sound at volume level seven. CONFERENCE mode. Perfectly acceptable to answer your phone call during that important business meeting.]

So it should have come as no surprise that my moving from trikonasana to chaturanga would flow to the chorus of 喂?! 喂!?, right? I suppose some would call me naive, but I never cease to be surprised by this place I live in.

My project for myself these last three months involves keeping the bitterness to a minimum, though. I'm finishing up a book called Coming Home Crazy: An Alphabet of China Essays by Bill Holm, a foreign expert twenty years before me. I'll share an excerpt I particularly liked:

"Like every Barbarian in China for the last thousand years, I complain a lot. Dirt, spitting, smelly squat toilets, rude bureaucracy, overcrowding, noise, bad wiring, worse plumbing, nasty store clerks, appalling safety, broken-down machines, cold gray cement buildings, grim apartments, no hot water, no clean air, drab clothes, dust, garlic pickles, greasy meat, surly service, on and on, blah-blah-blah, ad infinitum, ad nauseum. After a while, it begins to disgust and bore even the complainers...Enough, I say; let's have some praise!"

I quite agree with Mr. Holm, and want to focus more on the praise with my remaining time here. I've tried to keep my venting of frustrations confined to the pages of my journal and the ears of my sister, but this yoga business is just too good. The girl next to k and I, after checking her phone which lay beside her mat, lay down to take a nap when she found twisting and balancing at the same time to be too much. 

And remarkably, the instructor (the only man in the room) and the focused yogis in the front noticed none of the distractions; weren't even shaken by the appearance of two tall and gangly white kids walking into their classroom. This was comforting to me.

muffin.top?

Just a quick update to comment on a recent modification on a standard household recipe...but is it standard to you?

Well, since I know my only dedicated reader is my dad (thanks Dad! I always knew we had a special connection...) then the answer is YES, because he [you] is [are] the one who introduced the recipe to me. It is for five minute artisan bread, and it really IS as easy as it sounds. Throw (a lot, or so it seems, of) flour, water, yeast, and salt into a bowl, mix it up, wait 30 minutes. The result is something you keep in your fridge to bake up whenever you feel like fresh bread (so that means every meal, unless you are weird...) This means that the recipe makes enough to last you three days, although I guess maybe I have an unhealthy obsession with carbohydrates so PERHAPS the recipe will last for a week for other people...or more? I don't really relate to people that aren't obsessed with bread, so.

Anywho, the point of this late night post (hey people it is 10.09pm here! A full thirty-nine minutes past my weeknight bedtime!) is that after a few months of religiously following this recipe, I have MODIFIED it in the most beautiful and delicious way. Well, really the fact that my rendition worked means that you can add whatever your little brain comes up with and it will *probably* still be delicious. So what did I add, you may burn with curiosity to know? Just a little plain old normal garlic and chives. Chopped 'em both up, stuck them in the top of the dough, pulled the dough over the top of all the goodies, and then finished with a little brushing (with my fingers, of course, because Huai'an, Jiangsu, China does not have a store which stocks pastry brushes...) of olive oil (though we CAN buy olive oil...).

Conclusion: YUM!!! If you live in Kansas City, MO then you are lucky and maybe its not worth it because you can just mosey on downtown and pick up some delicious fresh baked bread (hopefully you will go after having your breakfast on your plate and not your lap at bluebird) and not have to spend the brain cells on trying to think of a new and outrageous flavor combination to top your fresh bread. If you live in Fort Collins, I suppose you can go to Olive Street Bakery although I have to confess you aren't as lucky as me to have been born in KC and know just HOW good purchased artisan bread can be. 

The whole point being that the five-minute recipe and any rendition you can imagine is going to be about 400 times better than anything I could ever hope to find in a place that more often than not looks like this:

[photo of miserable e.bike riders in the place i call home courtesy of independent.co.uk, surprisingly enough]

PS: I would include a beautifully composed picture of the bread I am currently devouring by myself as I wait for my sister to come back from Shanghai, but I have been informed more than once that my camera is garbage and therefore in the non-existent natural light of ten pm your imagination probably paints a prettier picture of the scene than my camera does.

shroomies?

[painting courtesy of zhou fan]

Trips to the supermarket 'round these parts have recently become wildly exciting to me. I can attribute this development to one specific reason: the vast array of visually stunning and confusing varieties of....mushrooms.

02 Mushaboom

[music courtesy of feist]

"mush.a.BOOM!!" is indeed what I say when I approach the table in the produce section of the downtown supermarket reserved for our brown, white, grey and sometimes black, bizarrely shaped friends. How sheltered I was for so many years to have limited my understanding of the mushroom to the uniform-looking button! How fitting I found it to learn that the button, when allowed to mature beyond its squat white stage, actually becomes a portobello!

So correct me the next time I complain about the insanity that is Times EXTRA supermarket on a Saturday afternoon; please remind me, dear reader, that the same place I complain about has most certainly inspired creativity within me - even a new hobby!

Henceforth begins a project in Penthouse #502 of the building where 70% of Huai'an's population of strange-people reside. A culinary project of sorts, an experiment for the taste buds. I give you:

M  U  S  H  R  O  O  M       M  O  N  D  A  Y.

The day of the week when I pledge to wok-fry up a new variety of my favorite funky, trippy eye candy. Photos, flavor analyses, and recommendations to be shared here.

font of personality

Design company Pentagram put out this video quiz which apparently can assign a font to your personality based on four questions.

I found this from one of my blog friends I follow on my beloved google reader, but now I can't remember who it was that first posted about it. Above is "my" type, perpetua titling light.

updated

03 Honey Won't You Let Me In

Six full weeks of constantly moving means lots of tales, but its quite daunting to think about sitting down and writing about all that travel. Plus I run the risk of making very broad generalizations and using the words "interesting" and "beautiful" too many times.

Instead, here are some snapshots of the holiday:

[rainy afternoon tea time. hangzhou]

[metro. beijing]

[detail of the olympic water cube. beijing]

[hutong cooking prep. beijing]

[my perfect little dumpling! beijing]

["i think you would have to conclude that this is a great wall."]

[twenty-five years and she's still impressed by his physique. beijing]

 

[look at that great handmade menu from a little tucked away coffee and tea house called 'tutu's snug'! beijing]

[cooking up a storm in the muslim quarter. xi'an]

["room service, please?" shanghai]

[new year offerings. taizhou]

[tofu grill at lunchtime. gejiu]

[batiks drying in the sun. baishan]

[abandoned building/house? dali]

So that's about it, folks. I can conclude that much good food was eaten, much time was spent on trains and buses (just ask Katie), and many jaw-dropping sights were seen. Many, many photos were taken, this being only a smattering of my favorites. Here's to hoping I have six weeks paid vacation every year...

Also, you may notice we went through a little identity crisis around here, but that has recently been resolved. Phew.

swimming with grizzly bears

In the wee hours of this morning, I had a really vivid and strange dream. I must confess, I often think it is really boring/annoying when people tell others about their dreams, because let us be honest: dreams are really only fascinating to the person who had them. But I so rarely remember my dreams, and this one was pretty epic, so I am compelled to share.

I had just talked to an old friend on the phone, and I'd decided to go over and meet her at her house. We hung up the phone, and I rode my bike over to her house, which just happened to be hidden in the middle of some rice terraces on a mountainside. But, the rice paddies were flooded - so flooded, in fact, that the normal pathways on the terraces were covered. Two girls hiked up their skirts and waded in to try to cross over to my side. My friend came out from her house and asked "what should we do!?" I remarked it was a good thing I was wearing my shpants, and that she should put on something besides jeans and we'd meet in the middle. I was thigh deep in murky rice water when a grizzly bear surfaced. We're talking one monster of a man-eating beast (he was quite large). My dream self and my real self felt the same thing: TERRIFIED!!!

For a good bit, I watched from above as my friend and I climbed the edges of muddy terraces or quickly swam through the water to try to outsmart this deadly creature. Despite my genuine fear, the scene that followed was quite whimsical and incredible to witness.

I have no idea who won (megan or beast?) because I was startled awake from my dream by the sound of the coffee grinder in the next room.

But, of all the noises that could have pulled me out of that dream, I won't complain about this one. I count myself lucky any time I hear that noise these days. Speaking of coffee, we're lucky enough around here to have a choice these days. As in, choice of variety! Thanks to a couple very special people in our lives.

Below is a visual trail of breadcrumbs that I believe explains this wacky dream:

[recent rice terrace exploration]

+

[warnings of bear sightings on this trip]

+

[a recent chat with an old friend]

+

[beautious coffee fairies!]

=

one wacky early morning dream?