Back to China

"So, how was your trip to China? Tell me about it." A simple enough request. Still, I don't quite know what to say.

I experienced something that was so different culturally and sensually (sights, sounds, smells, tastes) that it was a little overwhelming. Everything was new and exciting and exotic at first. (Sorry I couldn't post more stories and observations then; I was limited by time and spotty access to a computer). It was all Fantastic and Fabulous! What an Adventure life in China is!

But over the course of the three weeks, my senses began to reattach themselves to my brain. I started to get tiny glimpses into the reality of life in rural China. I began to recognize that I had been experiencing things on a Disney level (not good for an NPR gal).

For example, when I first saw how they spread out the grain on the streets of Xi Zhou, I thought it was quaint and I took lots of pictures. The grain dries there as people walk over it and vehicles drive over it, which aids in the threshing process. Ingenious.

But as I started to travel certain roads daily, I saw the same people there, beating the piles with wooden implements, over and over and over (and over and over...). It gets less quaint each time, as you begin to see the effort involved in cultivating a small amount of food.


And it was later still that I noticed how weather-beaten and how old some of the people were that were doing the work. They've been on the hot street, sweeping and whacking and sifting grain for untold years.

No wonder they looked at us quizzically as we snapped endless photos of them doing these things. It would be like someone shooting pictures of me cleaning my brushes for the thousandth time and thinking, "How quaint."

So, when people ask me to tell them about China, I'm a bit reluctant because I know how little I know. I want to tell the truth, but I only know a little bit of it. I will continue to share what I experienced if you promise not to extrapolate too far and think that "that's how things are" in China. China is HUGE and varied and fascinating.

Look to the Hamster

There's a reason the old saying is "Go west, young man!" Going west results in exciting discoveries, the taming of unexplored territories, challenges that are met and fears that are conquered. It is the stuff of which legends are made.

Going east results in discovering that you can't remember your own name, the turning of familiar places into unrecognized territories, challenges that are met with a whimper and fears that you will never again think clearly.

Going east results in jet lag.

I had such an easy time adjusting to China that I naively thought I would have little trouble readjusting to Chicago time. Wrong-o! It seems that traveling east disrupts our circadian rhythm in ways that traveling west does not. I was barely functional for three days, and entirely uninteresting for several more.

Had I but submitted myself to Scripture, I would have had an easier time of it. There is a verse which says,"Look to the hamster, thou sluggard" (not a word-for-word translation). Apparently, studies have shown that hamsters who use Viagra have a 50% faster recovery rate from jet lag-like symptoms than those who don't.* (A follow-up study is being planned to determine any corollary incidence of hamster participation in The Mile High Club).

It is clear from the content of this posting that I am still a bit loopy. I probably should have taken Viagra and I definitely should have refrained from posting for a couple more days...

*this is considered an "off-label use" by the drug's manufacturers. I'm sure it's the only one...

Fuzzy

I'm home. I'm tired. I'm fuzzy.

Yesterday, I woke up in China at 4:30 AM. Twenty-seven hours later (26 of which I was awake for; I didn't want to miss any of the discomfort of airplane seats...) I was in my own bed. Bliss! I fell asleep at 7:30 PM, fully expecting to sleep through until morning. Not so. I awoke at 1:00 AM. Wide awake. Get-up-and-do-stuff awake.

I'm hungry, but I don't know whether to eat breakfast or dinner. (If I were still in China it wouldn't matter, I'd just eat some rice and eggs).

Even though I am home, I will continue to post to the blog for a while longer, so keep checking it. I'll add photos and tell you a few more stories.

Not today, though. Today I am boring.

Line up for Autographs

Two great things happened yesterday.

Event #1: I became a TV star. (As a result, I'm not actually posting this myself; I have people for that now...)

What? You hadn't heard? I'm everywhere, absolutely everywhere! Okay, maybe not everywhere. In fact, it's likely that I am on the cutting room floor (or trapped inside that little trash can icon on a computer screen in Beijing. Please recycle me).

A crew from China TV came to Xi Zhou and filmed us painting in the courtyard of the Linden Centre. Do you know how hard it is to "act natural?"

I'm staring intently at my painting. Am I frowning too much while I'm staring? I'm squinting into the distance. Do I look serious, or like I'm still adjusting to my progressive lenses? I just smiled at something Ned said. Oh no, do the photographers think I'm trying to pose for the camera? I want to look at Marci's painting, but the photographer might be over there and I don't want to appear to be camera-hungry. Just. Act. Natural.

Event#2 - The Linden Centre acquired a puppy, the best puppy ever. Eight weeks of cuteness in one little body. His feet have hardly touched the ground since he arrived. We haven't come to blows over him... but we will.

These two events may seem to be unrelated, but not to the media savvy. I think there is an extremely good chance I will appear on national Chinese television. The crew shot a good bit of footage of me holding the puppy, me playing with the puppy, me carrying the puppy around to look at everyone's paintings. If they don't crop in too closely on the puppy... I'm a STAR!

Highlight

I spoke too soon when I wrote that meeting the old gentleman calligrapher would be the highlight of my trip. Yesterday, something even more wonderful happened:

I was able to buy M&Ms.

To market, to market

As an American, it is easy to forget that food actually comes from somewhere! (Who knew?)

One of the best parts about eating here is that the food is fresh. We saw women picking beans in the fields outside our compound, and the next night we had them for dinner.

All that tea we drink? It is mostly cultivated by hand on the steep mountainsides. We've traveled over 1000 miles and have yet to see any sort of farm machinery. Almost all of the work is done with a hoe. Occasionally we've seen a water buffalo being used, but even that has been rare. Both men and women work the fields (in fact, the women are considered to be the harder workers; they do the same physical labor, as well as care for the family. It's not unusual to see men sitting around smoking, playing cards, while the women around them are working).

Rice? Again, cultivated by hand on a small scale.

Everything must be transported from the fields to the market. Much of this is done on people's backs. They carry unbelievably large loads. (Even in the city, the porters at the train station carried 4 suitcases at a time, hanging from poles across their shoulders).

Warning: If you are a vegetarian, do not read the rest of this post. Use the time to call your mother.

No one has refrigerators in these small towns and villages, so grocery shopping is a daily affair. Every morning the sellers stake out their territory and spread out their goods. The market is divided into sections. My favorite is where they sell live chickens.

There are several ways that the live chickens are transported. The simplest is the clump of chickens held upside down by their feet. I love it when they start flapping. (I'm secretly hoping they'll achieve lift-off and I'll see a vendor floating several feet above the ground). You can also see chickens-on-wheels. Vendors lash huge wire cages to the backs of their bicycles and take the birds for a spin. My favorite of all, though, is the sack of chickens. The vendor puts all his chickens in the sack and then cuts individual holes for their heads to stick out.


The reality, though, is that this is the last trip for these birds. People look over the chickens, pick the ones that look tasty (how do you tell?) and they are killed. (Vegetarians, I warned you...) Ducks and fish also come to market alive. There is a whole row of butchers who primarily sell pork. While the pigs are slaughtered at home, they are brought to market mostly whole.

Why am I writing about this? I have no idea. Maybe because it is so different from home, and it is an integral part of daily life here. You are close to the source of your food. You see the person who planted it or picked it or raised it. There's no plastic packaging. It's not pre-plucked or pre-washed. You see it in its living state. It seems like a more honest relationship with the food. (So honest, that several of our group are ready to become vegetarians. Not me - I love meat).

I hope that I will remember all of the labor that goes into the food that I so conveniently buy in the grocery store. I hope that I will appreciate having a refrigerator. I hope that I will win the lottery so I can hire a Chinese cook.

Same/Different

We were painting the outdoor market in a neighboring village when school let out for lunch. Several hundred elementary school children passed through the square. The girls walked in small clusters, sometimes holding hands, lots of giggling. The boys, well... they were boys! Running around, making loud noises, jumping off of things. One boy jabbed his finger into a pile of white paint and ran off. (His mother is not going to be pleased when she tries to get oil paint out of his clothes). Could have been outside of any school in America.

At the beginning of the trip we felt a little funny because we were staring at people and taking their pictures while they were going about their everyday lives. Not any more. I think what turned the tide was the day I was taking a picture of a family and suddenly another family member came outside with HIS camera and started taking pictures of me. We have learned that we are exotic! (Wow, I may never come home. If I do, will you please ease my transition by staring at me and snapping photos? Thanks).

One of the other painters experienced this in a big way. She was painting in a small village. A man came up to her easel to watch. He stayed for almost 4 hours. Even more amazing was the fact that he never once looked at the painting she was working on; he spent the entire time staring at her.

Gotta go paint now...

Generosity

I continue to be impressed by the thoughtfulness and generosity of the Chinese people we have met. Today, we were painting in a large outdoor market. As I was setting up my easel, a woman vendor sitting nearby noticed that I had set my bag on the ground. She came over with a sheet of newspaper and proceeded to smooth it out on the ground and set my pack on it. A simple, thoughtful gesture. A few minutes later I was ready to paint. Since I was standing in the sun, I put up my umbrella, which I planned to hold in my left hand while I painted with my right. Immediately, another woman came over and gently tried to take the umbrella from me. She pantomimed that she would hold the umbrella for me. Unbelievable.

This evening we had a wonderful surprise. At the end of this trip we are having a show in Kunming, the capital of Yunnan Province. We had been told that a brochure was being produced for it. Tonight we each received copies of the "brochure." It is an 8 1/2" x 11" BOOK, printed in full color, one page for each artist. It's beautiful.

Everything about this trip has been beyond expectations, including the long-range possibilities for exhibiting and selling work here that we are being offered. My horizons are definitely expanding!

Handy Tips

Tip #1 - The women in Chinese villages are extremely aggressive when it comes to selling their goods. Extremely. Really. No words can describe. If you buy something, don't wear it or have it where they can see it. You are thinking, "They will see that I've already bought something and therefore will go elsewhere to find a more likely prospect." They are thinking, "Sucker."

Tips #2 and #3 - If you find yourself being an honored guest in a Miao village, be prepared for the welcoming ceremony. The women of the village line the steps, each with bowls of rice wine. You must drink it or they are offended. You would think that a party of 35 people could spread themselves out so that each person only has to drink one or two bowls, but that's not the way it's done. Every lip must touch every bowl (let's not even consider the sanitation issues here...) For those of you who think this sounds fabulous, let me tell you what we call rice wine in the states: turpentine. Tip #2 - Keep your lips mostly closed and let it dribble down your chin. It'll evaporate quickly and cure your acne. Tip #3 - Join a fraternity. Go through hazing. Then come to China.

Tip #4 - If an old man invites you to come back to his house to see his calligraphy, go with him. (This tip does not work in Chicago, most parts of Wisconsin and Michigan, or anywhere there are neon lights. Please consult your physician or pastor for additional guidance in this matter).

An Amazing Day

Sorry I haven' t been able to post anything. We've been on the go, getting to more and more remote villages each day. When I get home I'll bore you to tears with everything that's happened during the last 6 days.

I know the trip isn't over yet, but today may be the highlight. I was painting in the village and, as always, people stop and look. An old man stopped and asked me my name. I told him and asked him his. By then we had exhausted his English, and my Chinese vocabulary consists of about 6 phrases. ("How are you? Thank you. Good. Very good. How much does it cost? I don't want it." I'm very popular at parties here...) The man disappeared and then came back with some calligraphy he had done and some newspaper articles that I assume were about him. I asked if I could take his picture, and he said, "No!" very firmly. Okay.

I assumed that was the end of it, but a little while later he was back to invite me to his home. It seemed that he was going to show me his studio. Remember, all of this was conducted with no common language. I decided to go with him. On the way he told me that I could take his picture. Then he made a hand motion that signifies money, and I thought, oh no, I just got suckered. Some people here do want money to take their pictures. But he made the hand motion and then said forcefully, "No!' I wasn't sure if he wanted me to argue with him and offer him some, but I took him at his word.

He took me across his courtyard and into a small room. It was crammed with statues and had calligraphy hanging on the walls and it was very dim, except by the window where he had his calligraphy desk. I began taking pictures and then asked him to sit at his desk and do some calligraphy. He wrote two very large characters and then wrote their translation beneath: OK!


He showed me many of his possessions and even let me into his other room, where he had his bed and his few belongings. After a while I told him I needed to get back to painting. He walked with me back to my easel and returned home. I thought that was the end of it.

A few minutes later he came toward me carrying two wooden fu dogs, from his collection of things. Before he got to my easel, he held them up and made the money sign and again barked, "No!" I held out my hands and he gave them to me. Wow. I was speechless. Such generosity.

A little later he came by again, this time carrying a large envelope on which he had written his name and address in Chinese characters. He wants me to send him copies of the pictures I took of him in his studio. You bet I will.

Those fu dog statues will always make me think of generosity and of the ability for human beings to connect in spite of barriers.

It'll be hard to top that.

What day is it?

Traveling to the other side of the world (across the "top", by the way) scrambles one's sense of time a bit. We lost half a day somewhere (probably in O'Hare's baggage system) so that even though we left on April 1 and this is April 5, this is only Day 4 of our trip. Not to worry, though, if you stay at the Gui Shan Hotel in Guilin, China. Each and every day, they change the carpets in the elevators. Woven into the carpet in large letters - in English - is the day of the week. We thought it was silly at first, and then we were extremely grateful. Unfortunately we are no longer at that hotel. What day is it?

For the last two days I have been blessed to see the most amazing country. It is beautiful and it is demanding. The people work very hard, and I have a strong sense that everything that is accomplished occurs on a very personal scale. Those rice terraces that are pictured in an earlier post? They were most certainly created by hand. Moving huge rocks? A few simple levers and a few friends. Their life and work are one and the same. There is also a strong sense of community. Life is lived in the front doorway or on the side of the road. Everywhere there are clusters of people, grandmothers surrounded by grandchildren, older men playing cards, people working side by side. We stare at them and they stare at us. We say "Ni hao" and they say "hello" and we both chuckle and smile at each other. I wish I could talk to the people. They are very warm and friendly, and their stories would be fascinating.

Yesterday we stopped at one of the villages along the road. It was the Festival of Qingming, the sweeping of the tombs. The Chinese people go to the graves of their ancestors, sweep them, burn incense and leave offerings of fake money, food, pictures of washers and dryers, maybe an old cell phone or a picture of a car... all kinds of things that their ancestor would find useful in their afterlife. Then the family sets off firecrackers. All day we could hear the crackling and see the plumes of smoke. At the village where we stopped, we became part of a large party. The village elder took us to see the oldest tomb, the ancestor of everyone in that village. One old woman invited us to have dinner in her home (remember, there are almost 40 of us...) and many of the families offered us food that they had prepared for their ancestors (sorry Grandma...). More evidences of the generosity of these people.

Today I did two paintings - one of a village scene and a one-hour study of an 82 year old man. I'm pleased with both of them.

Sorry I can't post pictures. [note - I added pictures when I got home] It's a miracle that I'm getting to update this at all! We're heading into more remote villages tomorrow, so I think it might be a few days before I can post again.

I'm Here!

I am posting this from the Gui Shan Hotel in Guilin, China. I slept for about 6 hours last night, after having been awake for most of the previous 28 hours. I'm feeling much better than I thought I would! We're heading out soon for our first painting adventure, a village on the Li River. It's chilly and overcast (though probably not as chilly as Chicago).

The biggest challenge so far was the lack of heat in our room last night. Things improved once we figured out how to turn off the cold air that was blowing in, but pressing the button for heat had no effect. We are surmising it is part of China's campaign to cut down on pollution by reducing energy usage before the Olympics.

I saw an early Olympic event last night between the airport and the hotel. It consists of people on motor scooters darting in and out of traffic. I think they get technical difficulty points for coming the closest to large trucks and buses and for doing the most unexpected (read "against or across the flow of traffic") moves. The winner is probably the one who stays alive the longest. I'm not sure how they award silver or bronze medals. That ceremony must take place in the hospital emergency room. Truly a marvel to watch the bravado of these cyclists!


Well, I spoke too soon. In the few minutes that I've been sitting here, my brain has begun to freeze up and my body is acting like it's almost bedtime - which it would be if I were in Chicago. (For reference, we are thirteen hours ahead of Chicago time.)

I hope to be able to post again soon.